Part II -- Chapter Five Western Myth and the Precept of Simple Cause: Invisible structures... Myth arises in the confluence of certain structures of preference which are conjoined, in the workings of the collective imagination, with specific modes of being and acting. Human life is unimaginable in the absence of myth and its complex elaborations. The dramatic appearance of ships, off the shores of Hawaii, created certain correspondences with ancient belief which resonated 'mythically' with eighteenth century inhabitants of the island, causing them to receive English sea captain James Cook as their god 'Lono', returned to earth in keeping with a promise of seasonal regeneration(1). Myth guided the traditional Zuni (of the North-American southwest) toward the mysterious 'center' of their social and cultural existence(2). Closer to home, mythic structures underlie the peculiar Western devotion to 'progress', 'scientific objectivity', and the belief that complex phenomena have sources which are 'singular' and 'indivisible' (to anticipate a central theme in the pages which follow). However, a fact takes our attention which has become a prominent sub-theme of our overall thesis. Mythic precepts, like manifestations of tabu (to which myth sometimes gives rise), remain typically unchallenged in the discourse of a community, binding many of its members to fixed patterns of action in the excitement (and tedium) of their lives. Though they provide the framework for much public discussion (as well as lavish opportunities for communal entertainment and story-telling), the main constituents of the assemblage in the particular instance -- i.e., the elements which might reveal their structural purpose and 'true meaning' -- rarely become available to popular scrutiny. Human community seems to squander its resources in response to directives the sources of which are hidden. Such structures are explicitly ideological in meaning and social purpose, a fact which is generally ignored; even by historians and others whose business, it seems, should be to strip human conduct of some of its mystery, to examine what really goes on beneath the surface of the collective intent. It seems that the meaning of one's behavior, its rationale and ideological support-structure in the particular instance, is the last thing one cares to think about in a systematic fashion. |
| Myth -- good and bad... It is the case, unfortunately, that the lack, at such a fundamental level of awareness, of a capacity for introspection renders the organism vulnerable to mechanisms which kick in by default, and which prove often to be most destructive: myth, in the long haul, may work against the interests of a population. It is prone to create a certain bizarreness in the manner in which the energies of a community are organized and developed. We seem determined to create structures which place our communities at risk, which endanger our very survival. History records a chronic leaning toward behaviors evolutionary biologists would normally term maladaptive, though (like much else) this aspect of human conduct receives little or no attention from scholars and others.(3) Structures of mythic, if unknown, origin (and ideological content) caused hungry Tasmanians to ignore the nutritional resources of the sea, which surrounded them in abundance, though they ate the rare (and dwindling) land animals of their island habitat with relish.(4) Myth caused pre-contact Easter Islanders to remove, down to the last tree, the forest canopy of their earthly paradise, bringing the economy of their small Polynesian community to ruin. This led them, in an apparent frenzy of mis-directed vengeance,(5) to topple the stone monuments on which their devastated culture seemed to rest.(6) With the emergence of modern farming (we shall argue in the following) myth, not hunger, has been the principal causative factor in the conversion of vast forests of the earth to fields for the production of 'mono-crops'. It is the curse of evolutionary process that bad myth often performs well, or appears to perform well, in the short run! Hence its power to defeat potentially beneficial process. However, despite often abundant evidence of internal failure, the inclination of science is to blame the collapse of a population on outside influences, on uncongenial features of the attendant geology, or on abrupt changes in the weather; or on invasion by organisms which prey on its members, or which compete with them for the same resources; though such may be factors of secondary relevance at most in a population's decline and eventual extinction. |
| The myth of the violent male... Myth tends to monopolize the spiritual imagination of a people, presenting itself often as religious dogma (to cite the most obvious example), as moral instruction from which the community is supposed to derive comfort; these teachings it struggles to heed despite considerable cost and inconvenience to the collective well-being. Myth may strive to undermine one's sense of belonging, or social connection, which includes, in the wide sense in which these terms ought to be understood, the organism's feeling for 'place', an attachment which is also deeply 'mythic' in origin (and normally beneficial in its long-term effects). As functional substitutes for these positive affinities and affiliations, myth is often seen to erect surface edifices, the ultimate consequence of which may be a kind of usurpation of genuine political function and allegiance: 'flag', 'country', 'school', to select familiar examples from the collective experience of most moderns. Such structures tend to 'puff up' the imagination (Carl Jung called them 'inflating'); but they tend also to weaken and divide, which is their socially crippling effect. Such perversions of traditional myth can make a wreckage of tested relationship. Richard Wrangham and Dale Peterson report an alarming incident, a fight which broke out between two young persons whose sense of personal loyalty (and collective identity) was expropriated and grotesquely transformed in the interest of school rivalry. In 1960 three close friends from New York went to college in North Carolina on basketball scholarships. All three were first-rate players. They would be separated because two of them had chosen one college and the third another, but they were best buddies. They would still be in the same state. So the three knew they would keep up their old strong ties. What these young men didn't realize at the time, however, was that their two colleges, Duke and the University of North Carolina, maintained a bitter rivalry. Art Heyman went to Duke; Larry Brown and Doug Moe went to North Carolina. And the resulting competition broke up their friendship. By the time they played each other in a freshman game, they were not merely former friends, they were serious enemies. Moe spat at his erstwhile friend Heyman. And by next season, after Brown and Heyman bounced off each other during a game, they squared off in a fight so earnest it took ten police officers to pull them apart.(7) In their discussion of the sources of the particular 'personal malfunction', Wrangham and Peterson make scant mention of the incendiary social context in which the violence took place, the crucial role played by the 'educational institutions' in whose interests the spirits of the three players were subverted and destroyed. As revealed in the title of their book (and in strict accord with the principles of neo-Darwinian analysis), Wrangham & Peterson see the problem of human violence in the 'innate propensities' of male individuals. But their proposal is based on a serious misrepresentation. Despite the sly suggestion (revealed in the book's title) that human 'violence' is akin to and somehow explained by the nasty behavior of living 'apes', i.e., a group of animals presumed to be close to the human ancestral lineage, when the authors get down to the business at hand, we find that they limit their attention to only two species of that particular biological family: the chimps and gorillas whose supposedly brutish conduct they depend upon for the development and validation of their main thesis. To that end they ignore, or treat as a side-issue, the peaceful social behavior of the bonobos, or pygmy chimpanzees, a species of 'ape' which is found in at least as close proximity to the human evolutionary line as their allegedly 'violent' cousins, an omission which surely has something to say about the mythic agenda of the authors themselves. (The fact that few people have even heard the word 'bonobo', a species known to science for seventy years [and studied in depth], says something about the effectiveness of a cultural tabu which proscribes the very mention of these closest of human kin.(8)) By contrast, the view developed in the pages you have before you sees the behaviors of Brown and Heyman as the inevitable outcome of bad myth; though such behavior (which I shall consider maladaptive whether exhibited by chimps or their human relatives, by human males or by females, by institutions or individuals) has its roots, as does all mythic structure, in animal biology. (Let us not forget in the meantime: most myth -- good or bad, recognized or ignored -- exists to provide advantage to the sponsoring entities, whether these be individuals in some socially divided context or the community as a whole.) |
| An annex to neural processing... Nonetheless, it may be more difficult with humans than perhaps with any other species on earth to say that we are the captives of specific mythic 'programs', the slaves to commands which are somehow 'hard-wired' in the consciousness of our species. The functions of memory and association, on which myth depends, have extended themselves, in the case of the modern human being, far beyond the physical limits of the brain itself and become linked to, and heavily dependent upon, that impressive annex to neural processing we call 'culture'. Merlin Donald, in his book The Origins of the Modern Mind (1991), cites this curious adjunct to human cognition as the defining characteristic for the last of three evolutionary phases in the emergence of 'mind'. A consequence of the unusual arrangement which Donald calls our attention to is that myth, and the cognitive function it serves, can be significantly altered for good or bad; sometimes with bewildering speed, as humanity has experienced since the beginnings of industrialization in the eighteenth century -- indeed, since the beginnings of agriculture at the end of the last Ice Age. Culture must be viewed as a functional component of human cognitive process, yet one which permits rapid modification and change (wherein lies its special danger to the social well-being). The ancestral state as present experience... Mythic precepts provide an enduring framework in the organization of the collective disposition and will. They integrate and provide rationale for the 'why' and 'what' of shared routine. 'Myth' and 'will' emerge as closely related life functions. 'Myth' is revealed in the preference itself, while the presence of 'will' can be regarded as the desire and capacity of the organism to act upon that preference. Meanwhile, mythic preferences have their complementary 'opposites' in the things (ideas/feelings/objects/situations) we shun or regard as 'abominable'. The structures which appear to urge us positively in a particular direction of thought, action, etc., seem to have their negative counterparts in the same or neighboring region of the cultural imagination. If these elements, too, are the building blocks of myth, then myth must be said to inform all action, negative as well as positive. And if the given example relates plausibly to what goes on in the 'real world', then the primitive clusters of meaning, which drive action in living organisms, are to be considered 'cross-structured' with respect to value. That is, they may be said to constitute a complex mix of diverse and sometimes contradictory preferences (as discussed more extensively in foregoing pages). Thus it is no longer a simple question of doing what we prefer. Action now involves doing what we want to do despite the fact that the action entails a secondary negative value. I would suggest that severe incongruities in such juxtapositions of value have a tendency to present themselves with great frequency, and/or intensity, in moments of social or environmental crisis. They may provide an adaptive resource for a population of organisms threatened by collapse or severe disjuncture. |
| A world lost... Myth provides the sole insight into the way a community of organisms 'thinks', into the quirks and idiosyncrasies which shape its construction of the world. Good or bad, maladaptive or ultimately beneficial, myth is the cumulative reflection of our evolutionary experience in its entirety: the summary of our collective interactions with the world. Myth gives rise to 'mythology' (among other extensive structures) which is the metaphoric elaboration of its constituent elements on the material of the collective experience. The 'mythology' of a people often acquires a linear-narrative form, presenting itself typically as a kind of 'history', a chronology of events believed to constitute the collective 'past'. Though of great interest, and potentially of great value to science, such elaborated material is not the main focus of the present essay. Archaeologists and anthropologists, who place relatively greater value on fossils and the material record, do occasionally find surface mythology useful, but usually in desperation; or for confirmation of some position established on the basis of other evidence. Meanwhile, the 'ideology' of a population of organisms, i.e. the primitive elements of preference which underlie all culture-formation, all mythology, all expression of feeling by the sentient organism tends to be ignored by science altogether. This substratum of 'feeling' may be what Steven Mithen, in his book The Prehistory of the Mind: the Cognitive Origins of Art, Religion and Science, London; Thames and Hudson (1996), calls the 'inside' meanings of individual and collective action, a world which is often presumed 'lost' to science because of its remoteness from the locus of inquiry. (Discussing the visual images of the art of the Upper Paleolithic, Steven Mithen says "Archaeologists are more likely to have success at reconstructing the 'outside' meanings of this art, rather than the 'inside' meanings which require access to the lost mythological world of the pre-historic mind..." [The Prehistory of the Mind: The Cognitive Origins of Art, Religion, and Science, London: Thames and Hudson (1996), p. 159.] Mithen's use of the opposition 'outside/inside' presumes a distinction, in the primitive construction of metaphor, between its 'literal', or everyday, meaning and the layered structure which encompasses a community's complex relation to the past. The matter is most intriguing. For a discussion of my own distinction between the 'external and internal perspective', an opposition which is similar to Mithen's though rather differently contextualized [and certainly different in its presumed social outcomes], see Part Two -- Chapter Six of the present writing.) |
| An evolutionary perspective... It occurs to me that the essential elements of myth may derive their meaning from some period of dramatic adjustment in the developing history of a population; or, alternatively framed, from some moment of crisis in its collective biology. It seems to persist, moreover, in an interactive relation to these periods of biological intensity, or uncertainty, if that is what these were/are. This should be of some interest to those who investigate our prior biological states of mind. It would appear to offer us, scientist and poet alike, an opportunity to capture evolutionary process as present experience! For myth is extensively manifest. It reaches into the hidden domain of the obscure past and seeks to explain its own origins. There it may alter the physical being of the organism in which it assumes residence, the very anatomy which is peculiar to its own experience, life functions, etc. It works change in the very structures which were/are its creator. Seen in this diffuse light, myth and the living organism appear co-evolved. Nor does evolution emerge as the mindless process Western science typically envisions. The present essay seeks to build, in fact, on the contrary supposition: 'myth', arguably the most distinctive property of natural cognition, presides over both selection and maintenance of the particular evolutionary trajectory. Although the language may be my own, the philosophical territory should certainly be familiar to everyone. In the affirmed relation of 'mind' to the evolutionary 'history', and 'being', of the living organism we detect the abiding presence (and counsel) of Jean Babtiste de Monet, Chevalier de Lamarck! The stressed world of the simple cell... Indeed, to the consternation of many in the scientific community the specter of this early 19th century French biologist was evoked a mere decade (or so) ago in work done at the Harvard School of Public Health. Microbiologist John Cairns reported that the simplest of bacterial cells have ways (1) of evaluating the effects of stressful conditions on survival and Cairns' findings, and challenges to the interpretation he and his group have given them, have been reviewed by Tim Beardsley in "Evolution Evolving", Scientific American (September 1997), pp. 15, 18. Beardsley has pointed out that Darwin and certain aspects of Lamarckian thought are not necessarily in conflict. In line with this drift of thought, I should like to emphasize that the position taken in the present essay in no way opposes 'natural selection'. This powerful principle of evolutionary process can as usefully be seen operating on a 'mindful' as on a 'mindless' nature. |
| Mind and consciousness... To be sure, the position adopted here seems complicated by the presumed existence of something which appears forever to resist definition and even verification -- i.e., the property of consciousness. A recent publication by Nobel laureate Francis Crick has addressed this question. Crick is among those troubled by the fact that researchers have devoted little attention to this elusive characteristic of living systems.(10) His book is an introduction to an "astonishing hypothesis" -- namely, that the sum total of human consciousness, our ...joys, ...sorrows, ...memories, ...ambitions, ...sense of personal identity and free will, [is] in fact no more than the behavior of a vast assembly of nerve cells and their associated molecules [emphasis added](p. 3). But we soon discover that Crick's Astonishing Hypothesis is itself 'little more' than a review of experimental findings in the area of visual perception. He regards the study of vision as preliminary to an examination of 'consciousness' (an idea which, though it has the appearance, on the surface, of being simple-minded, is nonetheless provocative in ways I shall consider in a moment). Crick remains equivocal on the crucial question of whether animals other than humans possess conscious awareness. Empirical science has been bedeviled by this issue since the days of Descartes who, however, managed to avoid the problem altogether by considering non-human nature to be mindless and mechanical in its operation (and therefore wanting in real indications of conscious awareness). The more generous tendency, in the science of today, is to accept consciousness as a property peculiar to biologically advanced systems. In discussing the reptilian brain (ostensibly the old part of the human nervous system), Antonio Damasio asserts that one may ...conceptualize the response selections as an elementary form of decision-making, provided it is clear that it is not an aware self but a set of neural circuits that is doing the deciding. Descartes' Error: Emotion, Reason, and the Human Brain (New York; 1994), p. 127. Yet, there are many who do not share Damasio's apparent belief that the property of consciousness is exhibited by mammals as a group, as reasonable as it may seem on the surface. There are some who would believe Damasio goes too far. These would insist that consciousness, along with its companion feature 'intelligence', makes its debut appearance with modern humans; that conscious awareness is the "quirky invention" (in the inevitably up-beat and re-assuring language of biologist S.J. Gould) of mankind alone(11). (Gould's words have found a grateful audience. They are quoted approvingly by Christopher Stringer and Robin McKie (in African Exodus [1996], p. 19) who use his claim to promote their own notion of a singular origin for modern humanity. I would like to remind readers that the folk wisdom of a much earlier age had no difficulty with the mysterious property of 'consciousness', attributing it (and, indeed, 'mind' itself) quite simply to nature in general. In this view -- some would call it 'primitive' -- conscious awareness was believed to run across the board. In my opinion this position -- the 'traditional' position if you will -- is the far better one philosophically, even (and especially) for the investigator of the present day. It enables us, scientists and poets alike, to view the totality of living nature beneath a single lens. Such a perspective tends to bring better consistency (and better conscience I would maintain) to our understanding of natural process. Something about 'mind'... Antonio Damasio sees the responses of brainless organisms as 'undeliberated', providing thus no evidence for the existence of 'mind': Organisms with a body and no brain, but capable of movement..., preceded and then coexisted with organisms that have both body and brain... Not all actions commanded by a brain are caused by deliberation. On the contrary, it is a fair assumption that most so- called brain-caused actions being taken at this very moment in the world are not deliberated at all. They are simple responses of which a reflex is an example: a stimulus conveyed by one neuron leading another neuron to act... Some organisms have both behavior and cognition. Some have intelligent actions but no mind. No organism seems to have mind but no action. Descartes' Error: Emotion, Reason, and the Human Brain (New York; 1994), pp. 89-90. The only value, in my estimation, of specifically limited views of 'mind' is to set biologically 'advanced' organisms apart, mammals from reptiles, for example (as in the earlier quote from Damasio); or (in the thinking of socio-biologists, assorted evolutionary psychologists, and others) humans from everybody else. One must inquire, of course, as one must in connection with any assertion of scientific theory or doctrine, whether this distinction serves structures other than myth and ideology. As much as I would like to accept Damasio's eminently reasonable presentation, the notion of 'mind', as a late development in neural biology, merely complicates our understanding of the being and behavior of the living organism, while providing very little in the way of explanatory benefit. Damasio's idea makes a distinction 'for the sake of a distinction'. Myth -- 'mindless' or 'mindful'... Be this as it may. If, in the evolutionary perspective, intelligent action can be presumed to precede the emergence of 'mind', then it should be no great theoretical hurdle to see this intelligent (if 'mindless') action as inspired by myth. The impression of paradox may simply underscore a thought which instantly presents itself for consideration: in human biology, as in the formation of culture, myth does appear, at times, to be 'mindless' in the utter obliviousness with which it is typically employed; and in the relentless manner in which it pursues its own purpose. Myth appears to depend, in the typical manifestation, precisely on that lack of 'deliberation' which characterizes reflexive actions of the most primitive kind! It is precisely the 'mindless' character of myth-inspired action which, in the evolutionary perspective, makes this phenomenon so beneficial (and, potentially, so deadly). Myth in transition... To bring the discussion to bear on the human evolutionary line and the emergence of human culture specifically: in some early phase in our progress as 'lower' primates -- i.e. as a special class of nocturnal creatures who appear to have inhabited the dark forests of the Eocene -- we seem to have chosen, progressively and collectively, to conduct certain of our affairs during that part of the day in which radiant energy from the sun illuminated the exposed surfaces of the earth(12). Why this choice was made -- or why the daytime niche was suddenly opened to newcomers -- is a matter for further research or conjecture. Be that as it may, the daylight hours acquired value in association with specific actions. These actions, now newly motivated, acquired a particular mythic dimension. Functions performed during this favored period of the cycle grew, for us, in number and importance, taking in significant actions in addition to the gathering of food: courtship, mating, play, perhaps, activities which entered into complex positive relation, mytho-conceptually, with that time of day. Meanwhile the dark hours of the night became increasingly restricted, relatively speaking, to passive functions, in particular sleep and rest. The passive and the active, as important aspects of the collective disposition, became, in some diurnal mammals, thus functionally (and metaphorically) related to the experience of night and day, an association which persists in life process today and has various expressive modes and guises, all interesting. The ascendancy of vision... The selection of daylight hours, as the preferred setting for the performance of a growing assortment of functions, had major implications for the particular class of hominids, whom evolutionary process would select as our biological forebears, as for other descendants of these arboreal innovators. Through the use of new structures of the eye and brain, the so-called 'higher' primate learned to conceptualize(13) an array of colors which our animal cousins, in the evolutionary isolation of the Island of Madagascar (to take an interesting example from the living record), continue to perceive as shades of grey and black. More fundamentally, however, the transition to diurnal food gathering amounted to an early stage in the ascendancy of vision itself to a position of dominance in the mammalian imagination (a topic I shall discuss again in Part II -- Chapter VI). Those ancient representations of sensed relationships, whose perceptual intersections (or what presents itself to the choosy visual imagination as distinct 'objects') achieved identity through a combination of sensory inputs (taste, touch, sounds, smells, primarily), yielded by degrees to a reality which was largely visual in its delineation and imaginal reconstruction(14). In the 'mind' of the experiencing and conceptualizing animal, images of diurnal clarity, but relative remoteness from the surface boundary of the perceiving individual's own body, began to suppress the complex (and somehow proximal) sensations of the night. Meanwhile, the greater dependence on vision in the performance of ordinary functions led, one may assume, to growing discomfort in the performance of those same tasks at times when vision was obstructed or reduced. While still prized as the structural companion of rest and recovery (and limited discursive interaction perhaps), the dark night, in association with other communal undertakings, was increasingly approached with a touch of apprehension(15). Deeply engraved in the region of our brain which knows nothing of the experiential world of a population of animals still to emerge on the evolutionary horizon (our hominid forebears), such primitive structures of attraction and fear, in complex assemblage, and cross-assemblage, with other experience, remain somehow imbedded in the consciousness of humans, still recoverable to the modern human imagination. Assemblages of this general type comprise the very foundations of myth. And the fact that they persist in the collective awareness of our species and kindred species (and this over immense stretches of time) gives us the valuable opportunity to examine evolutionary process, not as a set of inferences about the organism's 'past', but as existing phenomena. A serial construction of reality... For reasons having a strong basis in the cultural predispositions of the developing hominid, vision tends to concentrate on the particular object entering its field and to separate this sensed object from its background which, in the moment of the typical visual experience, is degraded. Vision is isolating. The favored object is grasped as existing independently of association. Vision strives to sever peripheral circumstances from the finished construction of the image. It does this through the exercise of focus (which, in late evolutionary process would acquire a strong cultural association with the human male, an important matter we shall reserve for later discussion), i.e. by moving the perceiving organism's attention away from objects which it regards, in the moment of experience, as somehow less important, in order to concentrate his/her attention on others. In other words, vision promotes the examination of the world in serial fashion -- i.e., one thing at a time. It seems likely that vision forms the basis for what many (if not most) humans, through the combined operation of innate structure and what sociologists call acculturation, come to experience as their 'objective reality'. It is not surprising that Francis Crick sees vision as the basis of consciousness. But what does inquiry gain through this revelation? The consciousness Crick speaks of is merely his consciousness, the vision-dominated consciousness of modern humans. Simplifying, definitive, isolating... To widen the perspective somewhat, consider briefly how the mind deals with certain pedestrian combinations of non-visual sensation. The smell and sound of the air, its movement on the face as one explores the surface of the ground beneath one's bare feet, to take a cluster of sensory inputs familiar to nearly everyone. Language has difficulty dealing with such complex information for reasons, I would submit, which have mostly to do with the 'cultural needs' the language capacity has evolved to meet(16). (I shall attempt to address this difficult topic more fully in a later context.) The problem appears to be the following: these elements of disparate experience are not easily disengaged, individually, from the larger picture in which they present themselves. They appear to be inherently connected. Their primary meaning exists in their relationships to other objects, and to other events (motivated or not) in that important 'moment of experience'. The smell of an approaching animal, to take a further example, is not easily separated from the multitude of ambient sensations which tend to accompany it. Nor does it share an identity with the animal itself, which the imagination regards as something distinct from its smell (however importantly it may be connected to its smell). To illustrate further the thing on my mind: the smell of an object can linger for a time after the object is no longer present. (We enter an empty room. Gus must have been here, we say to ourselves. Or we eat an orange and discover that the taste outlasts the tasted.) Not so with a visual image which is somehow bound, in normal human perception at least, to the object itself. (We leave a room. No trace, certainly no visual 'outline' of our presence, is left for the curious to contemplate, though the visual image of something once experienced may continue, for a time, to haunt our memories of events.) Vision strives to close the relation between the object and its representation. Seemingly external to the organism in the way it is projected on the screen of the imagination (though not, of course, in the scientific understanding which places the image somewhere inside the brain), the image of the visually constructed object merges with its presumed referent in space. They appear as somehow inseparable. The visual image aspires thus to achieve the impossible. Its goal is to inhabit the same cognitive space as the object itself. In seeking to place its construction of the object 'out there', vision may provide the conceptual basis for the human objectification of experience. Vision turns complex metaphor, i.e., a perceived correspondence (or perceived identity of features) between disparate objects or events, into a simpler and decisively symbolic representation. The visual image, as symbol, is simplifying, definitive, alienating. Smell, by contrast, is no usurper of place and identity. Though it stands apart from the rest of the world, it retains its power to connect. (For Proust, taste and smell were the senses which most powerfully evoked connection.) The smell of an object may be a clue to its location (and character), a basis for informed deduction in our assessment of its position (and standing) in the world, but olfactory input is by no means decisive in the sense in which the word was used above. We detect an odor in the air... and then look around. This is the sequence of physical maneuvers which, in the judgment of the brain (in its supervisory capacity), is proper to the workings of the human sensory apparatus. For humans, the behavior lacks 'marking'. By immense contrast, dogs and other animals, for whom vision fails to dominate the sensory imagination, succeed in turning this anticipated sequence around. A dog is inclined to validate a visual finding with her nose! She catches sight of you, an action which is tentative for her species in that it merely raises a certain contingent possibility (which she finds attractive); but she rushes forward to smell your hands or face! Smell is where it's at! Smell creates relationship, whereas vision (in human perception at least) tends to isolate. For humans, the action of seeing tends to be conclusive in itself. To say 'the sight of a deer does not represent the animal itself but is merely an indicator of its presence' (as one might intelligibly say about an animal's smell) might be construed, if grasped at all, as an obscure joke. In accordance with the rules we rely on to construct our preferred version of 'reality', the mere sighting of an object, or event, constitutes an adequate demonstration of its existence. 'Seeing is believing', we say with a conviction which arises from millions of years of evolutionary experience. With the visual confirmation of the object's existence the human senses normally rest their case. The smell of an object, by contrast, is extensive and accommodating. The associative meaning it develops welcomes new sensory input (we 'look around'), its complex relation to the world being the primary content of its message. Smell is a good measure (in its intensity and purity) of the object's nearness to the perceiver; and, borne by the moving air, it is a rough indicator of the object's whereabouts. It may be the provider of much additional information besides -- an animal's sex, for example -- which is lost to modern humans who are trained by some mix of culture and biology to ignore inputs which vision tells us are peripheral. But the odor signifies the 'deer itself' only by reason of an extended association: i.e., through metaphor. Vision and the denial of peripheral relation... The visual symbol is, of course, the denial of metaphor. Though itself physiologically complex (relative to the vastly simpler physical structures associated with other modes of perception), vision tends to suppress the complex relationships which enter its field. 'Normal vision' breaks the world up into constituent elements which it then subjects individually to focused attention. Helen Neville's research shows that when deaf persons 'sign' -- I am astonished by the implications of her finding -- the part of the brain normally associated with hearing takes over some of the function of the visual cortex! Signing makes extensive demands on peripheral awareness, in that signers focus 'exclusively' on the eyes of the other, not the hands. This suggests, remarkably, that the part of the brain which has been considered to have a mainly auditory 'purpose' may, in the evolutionary reality of the situation, have had a more general function: that is, to make sense of background structure which, as in the case of signing paradoxically, conveys the part of the message considered to be the most significant! In other words, in the case of the hearing individual this part of the brain may be merely adapted to audition, not specific to it. Neville is careful not to draw these conclusions herself, yet they seem implicit in her results. Researcher William Calvin has suggested that the so-called 'language cortex' served likewise, at some early evolutionary stage, a more generalized function. He suggests that the part of the brain we associate with language may be concerned, more fundamentally, with the planning of novel sequences of various kinds, be these the anticipation of complex syntax and sentences or the type of complex (and instant) sequential planning which is involved in the hurling of projectiles! See Calvin's article "The Emergence of Intelligence" in Scientific American (October 1994). It may be that language was a crucial accompanying factor in the ascendancy -- finally -- of vision to total dominance over other modes of perception. The simplification of experience, and the dissecting of experiential relationship, which language strives toward in its seemingly obsessive naming of objects in the physical universe (i.e. their linguistic isolation and symbolization(17)), appears, first and foremost, to be visually inspired. Frank Banta has observed (personal communication) that the vocabulary of smell and taste is relatively impoverished in Indoeuropean (and probably Pre-Indoeuropean) when we consider the astonishing richness of these languages in their representation of visual detail and in their capacity to make visually based lexical discriminations.(18) A conceptual interlude... Yesterday I started a fire in the bathhouse stove (a locus of 'spirit' in arctic cultures), access to which, in our particular instance, is from outside. The kindling was beginning, at long last, to burn with no assistance from me. Nevertheless, I chose not to abandon the emerging structure in this still fragile state. I was thus positioned beneath the extensive eaves of the small log building which, with its dovetail corner notches, constitutes the physical structure of our Finnish sauna (see Plate III).(19) Kneeling, like some priest, before the cast iron framing of the open door, I stared for a while into the cold infinity of the firebox... ![]() Plate III But eventually I began to notice, in the foreground, the erratic behavior of a small flame: momentary hesitations followed by small bursts of confidence. I was attracted, as animals are wont to be, by the ceaseless variation of shape and color which perform for the senses, if we are attentive. Some of this new fire approached a piece of cedar, timidly at first. Now radiating a little heat (which found its way, unexpectedly, to my arms, folded in front of me, and my face), the weak flame tested lightly the surface of the unfamiliar piece of wood, but found it still too cold. It shuddered and drew back. But then suddenly, though only for the briefest moment, it flared out on all sides, as new fire is wont to do... but then withdrew again, this time rather decisively. Or so it seemed. For almost as quickly as it had vanished from sight the flame rose again to its former modest stature. Now encouraged, it began to grope its way across a surface which was more uneven, at once more stimulating and more congenial. Still hesitating, it managed to twist and wrap itself around knots and certain other irregularities, trying first this way, then that, venturing forward a bit, then receding -- seemingly unsure of its direction and physical agenda. For though capable of visual displays which instruct (and enormously entertain), it is the case, alas, that fire is blind. Wood, for its part, has secluded enclaves which hold moisture and pitch, volatile substances of various kinds which comprise the distilled residue of its long experience on earth. This lies dormant in the cellular structure of the material, filling it with tension. Fire, in its blind groping, discovers these hidden deposits, awakens their 'spiritual essence', long forgotten by the world. The surface fiber of the material comes apart with sharp emissions, with no small amount of cracking and popping. For fire provides much more than visual display. It summons the full resources of nature and mind. Fire is a Gesamtkunstwerk which, at moments of climax, manages to engage all the senses. And in the particular case, though the scale was modest, the percussive effects were as only cedar can conjure them. Far more boisterous, with its coarse grain and brittle temper, than the dense hardwoods (which were my steady companions during many decades in the woods), this ancient material brings blind fire to life, but with a certain fury. Meanwhile, there is the fragrance which never fails to overwhelm. Vaporous pitch floods the olfactory chambers of the head; mixing (in this case) its chemical magic with bursts of smoke from an apparent backdraft. A bad wind, maybe, or a still cold flu, which now belches the particulate matter (which it failed to suck through the roof) into my face. This was a trip, a processing of images which, in the fashion typical of lateral transference, was new but continuously familiar. (In the cross-structuring of metaphor which appears to have characterized the workings of the early human 'mind' the vaporization of a substance invariably produced its essence or spirit. Here etymology, chemistry, poetry all came together. Spirit was the companion of consciousness. It was, indeed, its progenitor. It informed conscious understanding, or mental awareness.(20)) A further compounding of images... While the above perceptions were being assembled and recorded (without my particular 'awareness'), another part of my mind was focused on something quite different, something quite unrelated to the sensory experience described above (and my parallel ruminations). In point of fact, my ability to reconstruct the above, with a completeness which surprises even me, as I consider the whole thing from a position once again removed -- I sit now at my word-processor -- is due, remarkably, to this third sequence of events the details of which are not here recorded... the reader can fabricate a structure proper to his or her own experience (and may, in fact, have been doing precisely that while making his or her way through my text)... Viewed side-by-side, the images are remarkably at variance, yet we judge them to be somehow the same... the consequence, it appears, of some set of 'connections' established in that all-important 'moment of experience', that lonely place in space/time where the 'node-link' structures of the brain are activated. Dr. Crick may have found agreement with the 'romantics' on one crucial point! It is the nervous system which creates poetry on earth, not the 'mind'. It is the body, not the intellect, which shapes primal metaphor. The details of the unrecorded sequence of parallel images -- the recent events which took my attention while the visual drama was unfolding -- are not especially relevant... the narrative, with its abundance of lateral adjacency, gets more than a little oblique, a bit too much for verbal recall. Present experience revisits the content of old structure... New meanings push themselves into existence. These take us by surprise and bring mental wanderings to a halt.
The expansion of the neocortex... The capacity to assimilate diverse meaning -- i.e. to conceive superficially disparate moments of experience as the same in some salient respect (or salient combination of respects) -- is immense in humans, greater probabbly than in other species. Moreover, it constitutes the aspect of cognition most distinctly correlated with the phenomenal expansion of the human brain. There is evidence for a relation between the expansion and subspecialization of the neocortex, and the complexity and unpredictability of environments with which such expansion permits individuals to cope. Antonio Damasio (1994), p. 127. The developing hominid 'needed', it seems, the large chambers of the brain to hold the stupendous record of its assimilations; it needed adequate 'housing' for the complex structures we employ to compare, evaluate, and re-process a continuously expanding store of information. All this in the direct interest of coherence, to find connection between objects and events and establish, in this simple way, identity with a diverse world. It goes without saying that long-term memory, which Lumsden, Wilson, and others insist is the primary function of the neocortex,(21) is a big deal with humans. But it is merely the vehicle by which all of the above is accomplished. Like other organisms, we use sensed features of the environment as mnemonic cues which facilitate orientation, which help us to pursue the varied interests of our personal and collective agenda, which enable us to visit (and revisit) locations and geographies we favor for a variety of reasons (and to avoid others). Such systems allow us to hide and retrieve our young; find, store, recover food (and other items); establish sexual (and other discursive) contacts. |
| Assimilation is the method we employ to make sense of a multi-faceted reality, a means we share with other forms of life. But to an extent unknown in other animals, who tend, relatively speaking, to be locked in fixed relations to given environments (and who often languish if placed in unfamiliar settings), the human being has an astonishing ability to create new identity in the face of new experience and new surroundings; to incorporate, into its conception and awareness of the 'self', the environment in which it newly finds itself. For it is not just a figure of speech to say that the material world, for the human being, is an 'extension of the mind'. External reality functions, for us, as the principal modeling factor in the 'way we think', in the way we construct and evaluate experience. This in addition to its obvious usefulness for the storage of important cultural information. And if that world changes -- by our own effort or through the intervention of some external agency -- so naturally do we, or at least we attempt to do so. Thus is explained the rapidity of evolutionary process in the developing sapiens whose brain grew (in little more than a million years we are told), from six-hundred cubic centimeters to well over a thousand. The human preference is to affirm the broad features of new surroundings (however these are manifest), to establish mythic connections with these new opportunities for interaction, an array of predispositions other animals share with us moreover. It is in the nature, after all, of 'adaptation'. That is, the organism draws affirmed features of experience into assimilated relation to prior experience and proceeds to utilize these new composite images, with their clear implications of 'greater value', as the material for still further 'clustering' of experiential information which it then seeks to reproduce, successfully and unsuccessfully, in various external and internal ways. But the power to assimilate and to affirm (and to reproduce) is immense, in humans in particular, and remarkably extensive; we possess an astonishing ability to find connection in the ever changing conditions of our earthly existence, even when circumstances come upon us which are not of our own choosing, which are unfamiliar and take us by surprise. So the human being, through its propensity to form new culture (and thus hasten the acquisition of new biological structure), must be seen as intervening directly in evolutionary process, but in a way which is special in its vast reach (as the neocortex itself is in its physical extent) and does really seem to set us apart from other living organisms, words which we nearly choke on for their presumption, but which may, in fact, have merit. The 'cause' of it all... From this rough appraisal of the adaptive scope (and potential) of the cognitive capacity of the emerging species follows a number of issues which need to be addressed. If the phenomenal expansion of the cortical structures of the hominid brain reflects a rapidly increasing capacity for assimilation of new experience (and its mythic 'alignment', or integration, with value) -- and is to be viewed thus as continuous adaptation and not simply 'run-away growth' -- then certain obvious questions arise: what unusual circumstances provided the opportunity for such an astonishing adaptation? And why do these appear to have been encountered by the human evolutionary line alone? Clearly no single natural event -- no single change in climate, for example (or geology) -- could have driven such an extraordinary adaptation forward through hundreds of thousands of years, though such might have provided an initial impetus. To be sure, natural forces, which drastically alter weather patterns and the topography of a region, have potential evolutionary effects of great magnitude and consequence. The very emergence of the hominid line has been attributed, indirectly at least, to the geological forces which split equatorial Africa into a humid and densely forested center and western region, on the one hand, and a somewhat drier mixture of woodlands and limited 'savanna' in a much smaller eastern section on the other, setting the stage for a major division of higher primates into those who remained 'knuckle-walking', for the most part (as their descendants, the modern apes, continue to be still today), and those who began to exploit the relatively more open spaces between individual trees, and between mosaically distributed stands of forest vegetation, and to move about (some if not much of the time) on two legs. This structural adaptation, seen in causal relation to (and against) the background of the geological events associated with the creation of the Great Rift Valley (which separates much of Ethiopia, Kenya, Tanzania, and Mozambique from the rest of equatorial Africa), constitutes the initial episode in a development which some specialists have called the 'East Side Story': the evolutionary backdrop for our first appearance as bipedal 'hominids'(22). At first consideration it might seem that these natural upheavals, and the resultant alteration of landscape (caused, essentially, by the movement apart of two major 'plates' in the earth's crust), were a direct factor not just in the isolation of the new hominids from their tree-dwelling primate cousins (and in their fuller adaptation to bi-pedal locomotion) but in the subsequent expansion of the brain. The latter adaptation, which would appear to have entailed the incremental acquisition of a stupendous assimilative capacity by the individual, certainly required exposure to a spectrum of sensory experience which was itself continuously shifting and expanding. Thus, the geological and meteorological perturbations (in this period of natural foment) might seem, at first glance, to have provided the necessary external impetus and driving energy for such a far-reaching physiological development in humans. It is obvious, however, that the time-scale of geological change and the requisite conditions for selective adaptation (of an ongoing and incremental nature) were not well matched in this case. The former process was surely too slow, and significant events too widely spaced, for its effects on the developing consciousness of humans to have amounted to much. The climatic and topographical changes involved were imperceptible, as Lyle convinced us already in the first half of the nineteenth century, because they were spread out over many thousands and hundreds of thousands of years. The diversity of the natural landscape, which would have been necessary to stimulate the cortical expansion of our ancestral brain, could scarcely have been a palpable reality in the experience of our forebears as individuals, or even in the active memories of our communities (though these were, no doubt, becoming prodigious by any previous measure or standard). It is far more likely that the pressures, which eventually placed our ancestors upon the evolutionary path in question, were largely internal to the organism. Driven by a new affirmation of mobility (supported by the complex physical equipment necessary to act upon such a preference) it seems likely that the human organism itself set the events in motion which would accomplish the physiological change which here concerns us. This it did, I postulate, by managing to widen the effective range of its experience. Making use of its 'newly developed' capacity for bi-pedal locomotion (and inspired anew by the mythic affirmation of mobility), the developing species sought to explore attractive openings in the mosaic landscape with their better prospects for unimpeded ground travel. The expanded geography, within which the emerging human came to move and function on a daily (and eventually seasonal) basis, provided the necessary external input for an expanding brain and consciousness. The melding of genetic change with cultural history... drove the growth of the brain and the human intellect forward at a rate perhaps unprecedented for any organ in the history of life (Charles Lumsden and Edward O. Wilson, Promethean Fire: Reflections on the Origins of Mind). Researchers have claimed, moreover, that the higher latitudes encountered by the rapidly diffusing population (in especially its northern penetrations) would have disclosed a much greater diversity of animals and plants plus a wider range of geological structure. Larger patterns in the distribution and movement of water, always a central issue in animal community, were detected and made productive, in the developing capacity for recognition of detail which included the location of caves and rock shelters. It is likely, moreover, that a wider diversity of plants -- some edible, some not -- would have been encountered and dealt with, in one way or another, in accordance with human needs. Following others, whose work he cites, archaeologist Steven Mithen has suggested that, in Europe, the faunal remains from Pleistocene ...caves and open sites indicate very diverse animal communities. Among the herbivores were mammoth and woolly rhino, bison, deer and horse, reindeer, ibex and chamois. The carnivore element included species that today are only found in very different environments, such as cave bear, hyena, lion and wolf. In general the animal communities appear to have been substantially more diverse than any in the modern world.(23) I suspect, moreover, that an enhanced awareness of the properties of certain natural materials would have enabled our human forbears to invent the means to negotiate, in some efficient if uncomplicated fashion, the streams and rivers to which it was drawn for seasonal or semi-permanent settlement (all without tools essentially); and that the culture these individuals evolved would be significantly littoral in its conceptual inspiration and scope. This would have greatly enriched and compounded the store of images available to the individual sensibility. It must be remembered that homo erectus (in the form of Java Man) in whom the presumed cortical expansion was still in progress, one must assume(24), had found his and her way to the southeastern-most reaches of Eurasia by a million years ago at least! It is hard to believe that much (if not most) of the extensive diffusion of this genus out of northeastern Africa into the Far East (and Europe itself) did not occur at the water's edge(25). My own suggestion is that homo erectus (and physical variants of the type) was far more inclined (and better equipped) to travel by water than the archaeological record unfortunately reveals. And, indeed, can be expected to reveal, given the perishable nature of the fibrous materials from which 'water craft' would, of necessity, have been assembled -- through 'manipulation', most likely, i.e., through tying and weaving and/or other methods of joinder which, though sophisticated and technically demanding no doubt, remain invisible in the archaeological record; given the fact, besides, that the shorelines which witnessed these early maritime-related activities became fully submerged at the end of the Pleistocene, along with any explanatory clues to their social context. The additional fact that a significant portion of the 'old world' was colonized by the time 'modern humans' made their initial appearance, makes it necessary, I believe, to posit a respectable level of technical accomplishment on the part of their evolutionary predecessors (though tools per se, whether of stone or less durable materials, may not have been a big deal in the cultural imagination, a question I will return to in another context). Where maritime technology is concerned, we may assume two chronologically sequential levels of achievement; the first likely provided the means to colonize the extensive shoreline area of the old world (as a springboard, let us assume further, into the interior of Europe and Asia, accomplished likewise through use of water craft); whereas the second, as the archaeological record implies, was clearly sufficient to encourage extensive penetrations of the open sea. It is inconceivable to me that the level of technical sophistication needed to accomplish the latter could have been attained without the foundational experience of the former: the one being, in fact, prima facie evidence for the existence of the other. We may assume further that this two-stage progression, in the evolving technical capabilities of humans, signifies the presence of two profoundly contrasting cultures, each with its own set of mythic affinities:(26) the first being essentially ripuarian and/or littoral in style and having a strong conceptual bonding to the closed environment of forest and woodland -- it should not be difficult to imagine the foregoing, because remnants of this culture have survived into modern times; the second of the two cultures being composed of individuals, anatomically modern specimens to a large (but probably not exclusive) extent, who were tempted by the infinite so to speak: willing to risk crossing the fifty miles, or so, of rolling sea which separated Mojokerto and Sangiran from the continent of Australia. The latter was the maritime equivalent (and precursor) of the Eurasian Culture of the Open which would explore, in the closing millennia of the Pleistocene, the widening corridor at glacier's edge. (These steppe- or plains-based communities would pursue their mythic purpose with the same level of fervor and commitment which led their cultural forebears out to sea. We shall discover that these two cultural formations are different only in the surface disparity of their preferred milieus. They issue from the same mytho-conceptual well-spring, the output of which has been prodigious in the experience of moderns.) |
| However, all this is not to say that the earlier ancestors of modern humans -- homo habilis > homo erectus > archaic homo sapiens (our rough approximation of the evolutionary sequence in question) -- were continuously 'on the move', and that the expansion of their brains was somehow the consequence of a newly adopted nomadic life-style -- that would come much, much later and would prove to have the interesting contrary effect, I believe, of greatly simplifying human experience (thus laying down additional foundational elements in the building of the Culture of the Open, alluded to at the end of the foregoing paragraph). I mean merely that 'settled existence', for increasing numbers of the emerging genus, would begin to take place within a frame of reference which was appreciably expanded geographically and very much enriched conceptually. Still an animal of the forest fundamentally, still possessed of the capacity to interact with reciprocal benefit in the forest ecology, the emerging human found a context for relationship and community which embraced much more than the restricted environs of its origin; and would include, in time, the water's edge (and eventually the sea).(27) In this proposed scenario the increased diversity of landscape, and widened social and environmental exposures (which came about as the natural consequence of this greater abundance of stimuli), would have provided the necessary physical circumstances for the evolution of the complex mental process we begin to associate with modern human predecessors and the parallel expansion of their brains. In short, a widening range (and increasing complexity) of experience was the driving mechanism in the progressive enlargement of the animal's brain. Variations on this explanation have appeared ubiquitously (if imperfectly) in the scientific literature, though typical versions tend to emphasize the social effect. In perusing this material we find ourselves, typically, in the exclusive universe of socio-biologists, evolutionary psychologists, and others who see our cognitive 'origins' in the narrow context of interpersonal relations. Nicholas Humphrey of the New School for Social Research has maintained ...that the main reason why humans have so much brainpower is to provide for social intelligence (See 'The New Brain: Nicholas Humphrey on the Neocortex,' www.feedmag.com.) Humphrey's insight approaches, I believe, the accepted wisdom on this matter. He means, of course, discursive interactions with other members of the particular hominid group; to the exclusion of influences which enhanced interspecific discourse, and interactions with the environment proper, might have exerted on cognitive process in members of the human evolutionary line. Therefore, I would broaden the scope of this acknowledged 'truism' of contemporary evolutionary biology and include, as probable foundational structure in the formation of 'social intelligence', all discourse in which the developing human may have found him or herself engaged. These would have encompassed discursive contacts with strangers (which evolutionary biologists invariably view as objective and hostile(28)) as well as with kin. But they would include all interactions with nature, not just exchanges of humans with (and about) other humans. For in the perception of those whose brains were undergoing the extraordinary expansion we speak of, the entire world was suffused with 'soul', i.e., an innate capacity to know and to feel (see Part One -- Chapter One). But evolutionary psychologists seem to be the last ones to recognize this astonishing capacity of human intelligence and 'mind'. So it is hardly surprising that these same specialists have difficulty with the cortical expansion in question, since an understanding of the latter depends entirely on an appreciation of the former, i.e., on a recognition of the fact that, in human cognition generally, the world is constructed on a social (or animist) model(29). |
| Psychology makes its contribution... It may be useful, at this point, to explore work in progress on the nature and evolution of cognition in humans. Steven Mithen, whose Prehistory of the Mind was cited earlier, has revealed a detailed proposal which certainly deserves our attention. (It is, indeed, the main thesis of the interesting book in question.) Though not strictly a psychologist by training and previous academic experience, Mithen begins by summarizing current thinking on the architecture of the 'mind', with a view, notably, to establishing a theoretical base for the discussion of our 'origins' as a species. And, to that end, he draws on his own extensive background as a professional archaeologist. Mithen has recognized, of course, that these two areas of research must be engaged in tandem. The archaeologist naturally holds the key to the material evidence and its interpretation; whereas the task falls to the professional psychologist, academic convention would appear to dictate (now that philosophy has become a scientific irrelevancy), to propose a general framework within which mind and cognition, these most intangible (if most distinctive) properties of human biology, can be thought to have evolved. Seven in all... Mithen reviews the early theories of Gerry Fodor, who proposed a division of mental process into (1) independently functioning 'input systems', the receivers and conveyers of sensory information (including language), and (2) what Fodor calls the 'central systems', the locus of cognition proper: i.e., 'reasoning', 'problem solving', the planning and execution of motor strategies, plus other outcomes of the human capacity to experience and to imagine. Noteworthy is the fact that Fodor sees the 'input systems' as 'incapsulated', i.e., they are supposed to lack access, individually, to information gathered by other 'input systems'. Some theorists see the insularity of Fodor's 'input systems', an eminently reasonable premise within the province of its own designated boundaries, as the key to all cognitive functions. Howard Gardner has developed the concept of 'multiple intelligences' (seven in all), each based in a different region of the brain and each devoted to a distinct category of cognitive activity. Gardner reasons (correctly) that injury, or illness, is often selective in its impairment of brain function. Besides, individuals often show outstanding aptitudes in certain specific areas of thought -- music or math, for example -- and not in others(30). Researchers, who have arrived more recently on the scene, bring this concept to bear on the question of human evolution. Leda Cosmides and John Tooby reason, metaphorically, that the mind is a 'Swiss army knife' consisting of a great number of highly specialized blades, or mental 'modules', each of which is 'content rich' and adapted to a particular human need. They argue that the human brain evolved under the selective pressures of Pleistocene environments and has remained adapted to the way of life these conditions decreed (which is probably incontestable). However, implicit in this view is the 'encapsulation' of the particular cognitive domain: that is, for the time during which the particular module is ostensibly engaged the mind is essentially unaware of the content of other modules. (In this arrangement the most distinctive characteristic in the workings of the mammalian 'imagination', the cognitive process referred to again and again in these pages as the 'cross-structuring of experience', has no place of residence.) The modularity of mental process... The 'content richness' of the innate capacity stands in theoretically pertinent contrast to what Noam Chomsky called the 'poverty of the stimulus'. And, indeed, the modular approach, which Cosmides and Tooby would eventually elaborate, owes nearly everything to Chomsky's original line of thought. It was his argument, we may recall, that children can not possibly learn the complex rules of grammar from the limited vocalizations of their parents and others. One must thus posit, for humans, the existence of a 'language acquisition device', or what Cosmides and Tooby would call a 'grammar acquisition module', a universal set of rules which is genetically fixed in the human brain. But there is much, much more to the matter as Cosmides and Tooby view it. In the words of Steven Mithen: [They] generalize the 'poverty of stimulus' argument to all domains of life. How can a child learn the meaning of facial expressions, or the behavior of physical objects, or how to attribute beliefs and intentions to other people, unless that child was helped by content-rich mental modules dedicated to these tasks (Mithen, p. 44). However, in assembling the platform from which their theory is launched, Cosmides and Tooby commit an error which Mithen wastes no time calling to our attention. As applied to modern human thought in particular, Mithen believes, their fundamental argument that specific types of problems need specific cognitive solutions is probably mistaken. Cosmides and Tooby hold that the reasoning needed to manage social relationships, to take the example which seems to bring the issue to a head, is qualitatively distinct from the modes of cognition required for manipulating nature and her products. For the extensive range of problems, which the natural environment introduces, something like a 'natural history module' appears to be needed. As summarized by Mithen, ... a girl choosing fruit using the same reasoning devices she uses for choosing a mate is likely to end up with severe stomach ache because she will choose unripe fruit -- fruit which seems to have good muscle tone (Mithen, p. 47). Fixed alignment with value... I should like to precede Steven Mithen's critical analysis with some observations of my own. We encounter thought at its humble worst when a girl, looking for something good to eat, must shift gears to avoid the confusion of conceptually overlapping categories. Something is wrong, at bottom, with a theory which assumes, mechanically, that the mundane reality of the situation the girl confronts is too much for her 'general intelligence' (which is incapable, apparently, of accessing directly the visual input of the cones which nature thoughtfully equipped her with to recognize fruit at its tastiest). There are no two ways about it: the mental process, by which such an assessment and understanding of the biological reality is arrived at, is as simple-minded as the thinking it is at pains to describe. Besides, the approach is counter-intuitive in the extreme. It goes so against the grain of what we know and feel is the case. For it is an intuitively acknowledged characteristic of human perception (and cognition), that the world presents itself as a mixed bag. In its optimal functioning, the human imagination tends to avoid fixed alignments with value. Meaning is eminently cross-structured, a lucky circumstance, we have discovered, in millions of years of evolutionary adaptation. [[Firmness] = [good]] in certain favored combinations of features and [less good]] in others. And, because rooted in the foundations of one's biology and culture, the human has no problem with experience in its disparate likenesses, though the precise constellation of mytho-conceptual elements is never exactly duplicated as the organism moves from one concrete situation to another. We seek common ground in our interaction with a supposedly 'divided' reality. We reach an accommodation with nature within the enabling framework of metaphor and the necessary confusion of categories which the latter brings to the resources of the human imagination (and which, in the last analysis, may be the functional 'purpose' of the neocortex). Human experience is/was rarely structured in low-grade observance of the systems of category (and exclusion) for which evolutionary psychologists evince partiality. Additional evidence to the contrary... The little which is known of modern hunter-gatherers (if the latter can be considered to offer clues to the thought processes of Pleistocene humanity -- and I believe they can) bears out abundantly the 'animist' hypothesis alluded to in the foregoing pages. In general (in the language, once again, of Steven Mithen) ...all modern hunter-gatherers appear to do precisely what [Cosmides and Tooby] say they should not do: they think of their natural world as if it were a social being. They do not use a different 'blade' for thinking about such different entities. (Mithen, p. 48.) Mithen cites the findings of scientists who have lived with people ...[who follow] a traditional hunting and gathering lifestyle in tropical forests, such as the Mbuti of Zaire... all these groups share a common view of their environment: they conceive of the 'forest as parent', it is a 'giving environment, in the same way as one's close kin are giving'. Similarly the Inuit of the Canadian Arctic 'typically view their world as imbued with human qualities of will and purpose'. Modern hunter-gatherers do not live in landscapes composed merely of animals, plants, rocks and caves. Their landscapes are socially constructed. (Mithen, p. 47.) And later in the same context: The overwhelming impression from the descriptions of modern hunter-gatherers is that all domains of their lives are so intimately connected that the notion that they think about these with separate reasoning devices seems implausible (p. 49). To make essentially the same point, Mithen appeals to the spontaneous reaction of children to forms of popular entertainment: Now sit with children and watch cartoons on the television. Immediately one enters a world in which > every single rule which could have been imposed on their minds by evolution appears to be violated. You will see talking animals, objects that can change shape and come to life, people that can fly. This surreal world is understood effortlessly by young minds. How could this be if the evolutionary psychologists are correct and the child's mind is composed of content- rich mental modules, reflecting the structure of the real world? Surely, if that is the case, they should be confused, bewildered, terrified by their cartoons? (Mithen, p. 50) Finally, Mithen draws our attention to what he feels is the strongest argument against the approach of the evolutionary psychologists: ... [they] make a very powerful argument that the mind should be like a Swiss army knife. It should be constituted by multiple, content-rich mental modules, each adapted to solve a specific problem faced by Pleistocene hunter-gatherers. One cannot fault the logic of their argument. I find it compelling. But as soon as we think about Cambridge dons, Australian Aborigines, or young children this idea seems almost absurd. For me it is the human passion for analogy and metaphor [emphasis added] which provides the greatest challenge to Cosmides and Tooby's view of the mind. Simply by being able to invoke the analogy that the mind is like a Swiss army knife, Leda Cosmides appears to be falsifying the claim that is being made (Mithen, p. 50). A modest proposal... Before continuing with Mithen's own specific proposals (which return, curiously, to the Swiss jack knife, though Mithen restricts application of the metaphor to pre-modern modes of cognition), allow me to wander a bit further on the evolutionary terrain from which all of this springs. An event as mysterious, to my way of thinking, as the cortical expansion itself is the fact that it ceased at the approximate time when it did. The archaeological record appears to indicate that increasing human encephalization came to an end in the late Pleistocene, as recently as fifty-thousand years ago, the time of the vaunted 'cultural explosion' and, some say, shortly following the appearance of modern language. To be sure, a continuing selecting factor in the cessation of cortical expansion (and, indeed, its possible reversal) was likely the continuing difficulty bi-pedal females had giving birth to infants with large heads. (This had the evolutionary ramification, with us still today, that our brains are small at birth, in relation to the rest of our body, but continue to grow for a time thereafter at the same rate they did in their foetal state.(31)) But I want to make an additional suggestion which may seem initially perverse: the same cluster of inchoate variables which induced (or, at least, worked in consort with) the cortical expansion originally(32), may have been the principal factors which brought it to a halt. These were, tentatively postulated, the emergence of modern language with its trenchant simplification of human experience; and, second, the growing importance of a material culture in human relationship and discourse. It should be obvious that with the adduction of these two possible causal factors we move the dialogue onto a plane which is most uncongenial to traditional inquiry, even hostile to certain of its primary assumptions. Let us explore some of the reasons for this extreme incompatibility. The sciences which study these questions assume, without debate of any kind(33), that language and material culture are positive adaptations in human evolution; and the growth of the brain is taken -- likewise without particular argument -- to require an up-beat explanation in the overall evolutionary account. In a set of meta-theoretical constraints, which science does not bother to articulate and defend yet nevertheless accepts, hook, line, and sinker, the features which account for our supposed 'success' as a species are the same as those responsible for our 'success' as individuals: our gift for gab and deception, our impressive ability to assemble material affirmation of our personal existence, our unsurpassed intelligence, our 'big brains'! These are the qualities of the human physiology and character which we employ when we pat ourselves on the collective back. But an obvious problem lurks in these depictions of evolutionary 'progress'. If such features are truly adaptive, if they are to be considered evidence of 'success' in more than the short-term, then one surely has reason to anticipate that a wider area of the earth will receive benefit from their presence than that described by the mere surface boundary of the individual organism. The simple justification for so assuming is that the continued existence of the latter depends entirely on the state of things outside these surface boundaries. One must posit, in fact, an area of interest which is yet more encompassing than any simple set of specific social relationships. Material nature itself, the discursive milieu within which life ebbs and flows, would appear to be the entity principally affected: community in its largest sense. This raises an issue which should greatly agitate the conscience of science. Are we willing to attribute our 'success' as a species to the very features responsible for the severing of our natural dependencies and the simultaneous destruction of the human habitat? The blatancy of the contradiction should provide sufficient cause to re-think the whole question of evolutionary 'adaptation'. What science is really about... But if the expansion of the neocortex (and all the rest) turns out, as a simple matter of scientific fact, to be irrelevant as an indicator of evolutionary success, then why do we bother about its causes. More pertinently, why do we ask why it ceased? The reason these questions are so important is that good answers may help us to identify, and to expose to the wider perception of the public, the business science is really about in the pursuance of what must be considered a 'quasi-religious' purpose and function. Good answers to these questions will point, I believe, to the path Western culture in general is pursuing, Western science (the only science, it seems, which is worth talking about in this day and age) being indentured to the latter. Thus the objective, which human reason would place at the top of a short list of objectives, is to re-visualize the evolutionary sciences themselves and their mytho-cultural objectives. As a first step in this heuristic endeavor let us continue on the perverse path our narrative struck in the above. Let us turn, just for this one time, some of our most cherished assumptions upside-down. Let us cast language and material culture in a socially mal-adaptive role! Big brains, fragile culture... Starting our brief review of these 'reactionary influences' with the latter, noteworthy is the fact that the expansion of the human capacity for memory and association, which had been necessary for the development and maintenance of myth (and a complex mythology eventually), began increasingly to depend upon structures located outside the brain; and as the material culture -- this external adjunct to cognitive process in the human being -- assumed forms which were increasingly permanent, the pressures on the brain itself were lessened accordingly. Put differently, with the emergence of a durable and highly elaborated expression of the collective mythology, the neocortex became functionally less active, and tended, perhaps, even to become diminished in its physical compass.(34) An inverse proportion does seem to exist, in this case, between the brain size of the population and the extent of its 'hard' dependencies, its devotion to tools, weapons, crafts, architecture, etc., items which seem to have served important mnemonic needs in the evolution of human cognition; and may, by reason of their emerging prominence in the cultures in question, have relieved the brain of some of its functional burden: namely, that pertaining to the need to assimilate, to store, and to summon to consciousness the complex detail of possibly distant events and relationships (and to re-assemble these from the vantage point of the collective).(35) (At this early moment in the evolution of language, reconstruction of the latter was, perhaps, tenseless, revealed moreover within a discursive framework which may have not yet known the 'objective reality' of the third person.) It is perhaps significant that Neanderthal individuals of Ice Age Eurasia, who are believed, as a group, to have possessed the least elaborated (and/or least permanent) material culture (and whose capacity for advanced linguistic expression has been considered minimal), seem to have won the brain race hands down!(36) The emergence of symbolic representation... The erosive effects of language (or enhanced vocalization), on the size of the cortex, may be envisioned in a similar straightforward fashion: that is, the more rigid ordering of the practical rules of perception, which language helped institute and articulate through the extraordinary expansion of its lexical capability(37), had the inevitable effect of 'stream-lining' the influx of stimuli to human perceptions, thus stripping experience of much of its lateral complexity. I have in mind the eagerness of language to give 'objective' form to mere points of contact, in a universe of intrinsic relationships, and to bestow upon these isolated intersections a symbolic status. The upshot of what I have interpreted as a gross conceptual simplification is that language was able to mitigate significantly the pressures converging on the associative function of the brain. So the first priority must be, at least, to consider the possibility that such occurred: that language and an elaborated material culture were the effective instruments by which this most recent phase of increasing encephalization in humans was brought to a close. Such may have been the productive factors in a comprehensive simplification of human experience. Together they may have presided over the transformation of human cognition from a complex system rooted largely in metaphor into one based on symbol. I believe many of the problems of the Upperpalaeolithic 'transition' -- the origins of art and religion among others -- may assume a quite different aspect when viewed in this light. The cultural-psychological process I referred to in an earlier chapter as the 'objectification of experience' might, in some instances, have been termed its 'symbolization'. However, though brought together in their pursuit of a common mytho-cultural objective, these two aspects of modern human experience (and analysis) remain dissimilar in function. The former denotes the process by which the capacity 'to know', and 'to feel', is denied an entity existing in the reality adjacent to the experiencing organism. Whereas the latter reveals the process (one among many) by which an entity is isolated conceptually, as through its linguistic identification and 'naming', or through the operation of some similar instrument of social and experiential exclusion. I would propose, as an addendum to the above, that the culture of Native Eurasians (among whom are to be counted the famous Neanderthals) was caught unawares; and would become, eventually, the casualty of the sweeping transformation described in the foregoing passages. Though probably integrated to a high degree (and secure in its own internal sense of relationship), the fragile culture of these supposedly 'besieged' individuals had not equipped them to deal with the adjustments the new mode of consciousness advocated and perhaps necessitated. (Nor were they likely prepared, linguistically [and thus cognitively], for the arrival of tense and the third person, two powerful additional instruments of social exclusion which now appeared, if not simultaneously, at least in tandem, at the horizon of human experience.) A much later cultural development, but one which hinges on the above transformation of consciousness, is the emergence of socio-political hierarchy, a process (continuing through historical times into the present era) by which the complexity of lateral social relations is progressively jettisoned in favor of a principle of centralized authority. It is surely one of the more puzzling dispensations of the modern social sciences that the first indications of hierarchy in human social relations are advertised, invariably, as the first signs of social 'complexity'. Science, in the service of ideology, accomplishes an ingenious 'sleight-of-hand' by which the complex is rendered simple and the simple becomes complex. This mode of deception is rooted deeply in Western myth and will be elaborated variously as our chapter progresses. The missing evidence... There are major gaps, at this point, in the story I wish to relate. To blame, in part, is my own poor grasp of the relevant literature (and research), in the fields principally of archaeology and related disciplines. (It does pay, however, to remind ourselves that the latter, due to the nature of their primary materials, can hardly constitute more than a bridge to the study of human cognition. To accomplish this task in a thorough-going fashion, we need neurologists, psychologists, and probably poets and philosophers to boot.) Moreover, the evidence which comprises the cultural and biological record of human existence in the older Paleolithic, the time-frame in question, is spotty at best. In Europe, the cultural landscape of the earliest period is nearly devoid of interesting evidence, while the scanty material culture of the Mousterian (or Middle Period) -- a few flaked hand-axes, scrapers, ettc. -- is skimpy, to say the least, and associated (to make matters worse) with the lowly Neanderthals, mentioned above, whose primitive technology science has deplored for a hundred years. The skeletal remains of these denigrated individuals are believed, by some, to be sufficiently distinctive in certain features of anatomy (as the artifacts associated with these remains are assumed to be sufficiently 'backward') to warrant their summary exclusion from the human evolutionary line. That Neanderthals might constitute one among several cultural-biological interfaces with 'modern humanity' is regarded as unacceptable by those who sing the praises of the human evolutionary experience to the popular media. Favored is a quite different reading of the situation which, though not exactly endorsed without reservation among the informed, continues to circulate widely in popular literature on the subject (and may, despite evidence to the contrary and the protests of many working scientists themselves, succeed in maintaining, and perhaps strengthening, its grip on the public imagination): the gist being that 'we' -- i.e., modern humans -- surpassed the Neanderthals with our 'superior technology'. In the usual presentation, the cultural-technical 'explosion', which is supposed to have occurred in the transition from Middle to Upper Palaeolithic, was the handy-work of modern humans exclusively who were already well established in Europe by... here there is a certain vagueness in the typical presentation due to the fact that the evidence, as it emerges, does not support the favored construction of the period with its sharp divisions... by forty thousand years before the present, to recite one version of what could be termed the 'mythically correct' chronology. At which point the Neanderthals -- the sole previous inhabitants of the region -- seem to have removed themselves altogether from the surface of the earth (in thoughtful anticipation of the picture the modern evolutionary sciences would form of their demise)... a 'co-incidence' which the myth of modern human origins embraces as evidence of a confrontation -- some kind of physical (or at least cultural) altercation from which 'we' emerged as 'victors'. The scenario is classic in its neo-Darwinian juxtaposition of irreconcilable interests and energies. But there were 'stragglers', a fact which has caused the evolutionary sciences some trouble. Taking refuge, so the mythic narrative continues, in the peripheral areas of its former habitat, a pitiful vestige of Neanderthal community managed to linger, for a time, at the fringes of meaningful culture, making do with the scanty resources a neglectful nature provided them with. Lacking the cognitive powers to evolve a sophisticated technology on their own, they fumbled around for a while in the backwater of human community, reduced, ignominiously, to 'imitating' the achievements of their intellectually superior cousins. But the crowning indignity was to follow. The opportunity was denied them to upgrade their meager genetic endowment by interbreeding with those who were anatomically more fortunate. Science was able to 'prove', by means of an impressive new method of DNA analysis, that a biological barrier existed between 'us' and 'them'. (The year in which these breath-taking revelations came to the attention of the news media was 1997.(38)) The new findings supported the position of those anthropologists who believed the unsurpassed cultural attainment of the modern human being was due to a strictly biological advantage. To these folks Neanderthals were an ill-fated side-branch in the evolutionary experience of hominids, by nature defective(39). The press trumpeted the good news to an anxious world: the Neanderthals were a species unto themselves, not yet fully human in their cognitive-behavioral capabilities! The world responded with a stupendous sigh of relief: it appeared the only connection between 'them' and 'us' was temporal-geographical! But even that tenuous bond was viewed with suspicion. Perhaps the Neanderthals did not live in proximity to humans at all. Due to their unusual physical stature and unique adaptive responses to heat and cold, aridity, ambient moisture, etc., it was suggested that the two populations moved back and forth, in rhythmic oscillation, across the same terrain: always a safe distance from each other, never really touching.(40) Perhaps the archaeological sites of the Near East, which seemed to imply an intermingling of physically different individuals, were mere 'palimpsests'!(41) Cohesion and continuity... But let us jump forward (if only for a moment) to examine the material which seems to throw every theory about the Upper Palaeolithic into confusion and doubt. Consider, by way of dramatic contrast with the primitive tool-making of 'native Eurasians',(42) the spectacular exhibition of cultural sophistication on the part of a people presumed, without hesitation, to be the 'newcomers'. I refer here to the cave paintings at Lascaux, Alta Mira, Chauvet and elsewhere. These demonstrations of graphic prowess appear to have spanned at least eighteen to twenty thousand years, if dates established for the age of the materials discovered a few years ago at Ardeche continue to be regarded as valid. It may be helpful to consider this remarkable continuity beside certain major developments in the human chronology. The culture responsible for the demonstration of intellectual competence we see here, appears to have endured five or six times longer than the time elapsed since the invention of writing (and the first busy indications of a civilized style in human social organization), three times as long as the total amount of time which has passed since the beginnings of agriculture. It is astonishing that these wall paintings and engravings, the consummate artistry of which is unequaled in human culture before the Italian Renaissance, have come down to us in such a high state of preservation. Not, apparently, through the intent of the artists themselves but because of the serendipitous circumstances of their chosen locations. The paintings, in the vein somewhat of 'performance art' (a topic I shall review in later portions of this chapter), appear to have had merely a temporary function. The sites appear not to have been much used, or re-visited, by members of the community upon completion of the work, although later generations seemed to have found their way, intentionally or by chance, into these unlighted interior spaces and seem to have inspected (and perhaps enjoyed) the graphic treasures they concealed. Yet few traces remain of the 'practical' (and no doubt complex) everyday lives of these Ice Age artists. Their domestic culture, in whatever that may have consisted, was apparently as fragile as the communities themselves were enduring. The stylistic homogeneity of this material, executed by many different artists over perhaps a hundred generations, demonstrates a degree of cultural continuity which defeats the imagination of moderns, living, as we do, at such a late stage in the experience of our species, a time when rapid change, dislocation, and social and environmental simplification (working in consort with deep alienation) have so distorted the collective perspective that these adverse effects are seen not as the pathological manifestations they surely are; but are accepted as biological 'givens', even attributed to our 'innate resourcefulness'. The 'biologically favored' organism has its unique 'adaptive ingenuity' to thank for all this. Illusions and delusions... In the second week of January 2001, paleoanatomist Leslie Aiello was interviewed by the British Broadcasting Corporation on the topic of brain size and human social organization: We know that in primates with complicated social organizations, they have large brain sizes. In humans you have a rapid increase in brain size about two million years ago. Then nothing happens for at least 1.5 million years. About a half million years ago the brain begins to increase very rapidly. We think that this recent increase in brain size has everything to do with the evolution of human language [emphasis added] (BBC ONLINE, Friday 12th of January 2001). I have provided emphasis in the above to language which, though informal in style (and perhaps not carefully deliberated), reveals the influence of the prevailing mythology on the science Professor Aiello practices and reports on. Though frequently (perhaps usually) inclusive in function, the use of the first person plural (we know... we think...) constitutes, in the special case of the above, an appeal to the authority of a priestly class from which the second person -- the interviewer-listener -- is excluded to all intents and purposes. Despite its casual surface mien the language is imperious and seeks to convey the idea that 'science', the first person of the immediate discourse, is not to be questioned. (However, the appeal to a higher authority may be disingenuous in this case in that the speaking entity has the edge of her own axe to polish: hers, it turns out, is the research these important conclusions are based on. The seminal material in question is Leslie C. Aiello and R. I. M. Dunbar: "Neocortex Size, Group Size, and the Evolution of Language," Current Anthropology, Volume 34, Number 2, April 1993, pp. 184-194.) One of the results alluded to in the quoted passage is the finding that the denser social groupings of developing humanity required, for reasons of time limitations mainly and 'efficiency' of communication, more elaborate mechanisms than the simple body contacts which characterized discursive interactions among the lower primates who were our ancestors. Thus, the emergence of gesture and enhanced vocalization (eventually language) as functional substitutes for physical grooming. We thank Professor Aiello and her colleague for bringing this possible coincidence of evolutionary factors to our attention. Their observations have merit. However, more is revealed in her words than may be immediately evident. Aiello says that the brainy ones in the world of primates are those with social organizations which are 'complicated'. Behind the surface aura of statistical rigor and method a subtle transference has been effected which has, in fact, little going for it in the way of evidentiary support and justification. (It is, we shall discover, only one among many slippery gambits in the extensive repertory of the evolutionary scientist.) Quietly, and hidden perhaps from the investigators themselves, the notion of 'complexity', as a characterization for a more or less elaborated set of social interactions, takes up a parallel residence alongside the concept of the 'density' of population in a given community and, in fact, tends to replace it in the uncritical imagination, as though the one were the philosophical equivalent of the other. (Aiello's use of the mild pejorative 'complicated' in place of the semantically neutral form 'complex' is, perhaps, a whimsical appeal to popular prejudice which has a kind of war going against the complex reality of natural organization.) In effect, the social group which is statistically 'numerous' becomes structurally 'complex'. According to this construction, the life of the 'farmer' (or rural 'forager') is simple and 'uncomplicated' while the social interactions of a large city (or prison) are, by contrast, 'rich' and 'varied'. Now the problem seems to be that the assumption of such an equivalency may be defensible to a certain point in the sequence of events which comprise the actual evolutionary trajectory... but only to that point. In a truly egalitarian social milieu, in which significant functions and relations are laterally extensive, larger numbers will inevitably entail a greater complexity of social texture; so that the quantitative indicator, in the absence of further complicating properties, will correctly imply the presence of the qualitative element in question. However, at some point all this appears to change. At that point -- the precise moment in which this occurs is a matter for further research and/or speculation -- larger numbers will require the simplification and extensive overhaul of the social apparatus; with the result that the actual 'size' of the group can no longer be considered a good indicator of its level of social complexity and integration. Evidently this state of social re-arrangement (and rectification) is what Aiello and Dunbar have in mind when they write that when groups exceed a particular size it ...becomes increasingly difficult to co-ordinate their members' behaviour through personal contacts alone. At this point they can no longer be egalitarian in their organization but must increasingly develop stratification involving specialized roles relating to social control (1993, p 185).(43) However, despite the apparent cogency of the insight, Aiello and colleague have difficulty relating it to the other elements in their tripartite claim regarding human cognitive development: that is, to the matter of increasing encephalization, on the one hand, and to the emergence of complex language on the other (which has a physiological dimension, science reminds us, which is unique to its specific mode of production). Aiello and company would much prefer to consider these matters -- increasing social 'complexity', the emergence of modern language (in association with the elaboration of a material culture), the physiological matter of human brain enlargement -- to be connected aspects of a single evolutionary thrust. (Indeed their theory would appear to require that these be viewed as chronologically integrated events.) However, the brain sizes which these investigators record appear not to jibe, chronologically, with what is otherwise revealed in the archaeological residue. Thus myth leads them to the age-old solution of the frustrated observer of nature: they alter the facts themselves. The 'two bursts'... Recall that Aiello (in the BBC interview) makes much of the alleged fact that a 'rapid expansion' of the brain took place at two widely spaced moments in human evolutionary history. Later theorists, who seem to follow Aiello and Dunbar themselves (though the first published reference to this idea seems hard to find), appear to have accepted the essentials of the observation, referring to these moments of 'rapid change' as 'two bursts' (or two major 'spurts'(44)) of brain enlargement separated by over a million years of 'stasis'. It is perhaps correct to say that the conventional 'take' on the issue of human encephalization (and the resultant increase in cognitive capacity) envisions a development in two stages. Its philosophical raison d'etre, or 'explanatory purpose', in the contemporary discourse of the evolutionary sciences, seems obvious enough. The first of these alleged 'moments of rapid expansion' is to be associated, of course, with the emergence of stone technology. (In the absence of much else in the way of archaeological evidence, it does not hurt, reason would seem to dictate, to include here certain strictly behavioral 'improvements': enhanced vocalization, perhaps, and increasingly complex systems of gesture.) Naturally one assumes, this time with no hesitation whatsoever, that the second 'burst' in human brain enlargement is connected to the appearance of 'symbolic language' and its numerous complex ramifications (among which may be nothing less than the extensive elaboration of a material culture). Meanwhile, the period of 'stasis', in the opinion of many of these same palaeontologists, would seem to be that boring time in hominid evolution when "nothing happens" with respect to brain development (Leslie Aiello), when "...toolkits tended to involve the same essential ingredients seemingly being shuffled in restless, minor, directionless changes," in the words of Glynn Isaac(45). It has been said that whatever it is that humans were doing during this prolonged period they were doing it over and over again. The data... But let us look more closely at the facts themselves (and the lack) on which this jumble of observations and allegations would be based. (The whole thing is chronologically incoherent, we shall discover.) The skulls for which Aiello and Dunbar (1993) have provided measurements are presumed to have belonged to individuals in (or rather close to) the human evolutionary line. They comprise, in all, five presumed genera or biological groupings: (1) the Australopithecines (including Australopithecus afarensis and africanus, and Australopithecus robustus and boisei); (2) Early Homo (including homo habilis and rudolfensis as well as homo erectus); (3) Archaic Homo Sapiens; (4) the famous Neanderthals of course; and finally (5) Early Modern Homo Sapiens, the group assumed to be most nearly antecedent to our own. In the table which follows I shall give estimated brain sizes and dates for the skulls presumed to belong to each of these categories. If the established dates approximately reflect their actual time on earth the Australopithecines were the contemporaries of homo habilis for nearly two-hundred-thousand (200,000) years, the latter sharing nearly all of its three-hundred-and-ninety-thousand (390,000) year existence in Africa with homo erectus who would eventually spread out, the record indicates, beyond his and her native continental borders, maintaining a presence in the archaeological record until two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand (250,00) years ago, one-hundred-and-fifty-thousand (150,000) of which were spent as an evolutionary contemporary of archaic homo sapiens. The latter shows extensive overlap with the Neanderthals likewise who, in turn, are assumed to have shared their evolutionary chronology in part with early modern homo sapiens, and so it goes. The skulls in question comprise a mere scattering of physical evidence, especially in the earlier periods where we discover an extensive period (from 2,500,000 to 1,890,000 years B.P.) which is entirely devoid of tokens and another period of nearly a million (1,000,000) years from which only four specimens emerge. (The latter lacuna in the record is the period from 1,700,000 to 800,000 years B.P.) These four specimens (three from homo erectus and one from homo habilis) would appear to comprise the sole basis for Aiello's claim that the period is uneventful. (Incredibly, one of these -- a homo erectus cranium from Africa -- shows a brain volume of 1,001,775, which is nearly within an acceptable range for modern human adults. See Aiello-Dunbar, 1993.) To place these findings in perspective I have reproduced, in somewhat altered form, certain of the statistical data upon which Aiello's assertions are based (Table I and accompanying Graphic Illustrations). I have followed Aiello and Dunbar in their 1993 grouping of the skulls ignoring, for homo erectus, the geographic divisions into Africa, Java, and China which seem not to be immediately germane. However, I have departed from (and, I believe, improved upon) their presentation of the data in two significant respects. I have computed average brain volumes for each of the eight groups of skulls and arranged them chronologically by mean estimated date, i.e., according to the mid-point between the lower and upper extremes in the estimated age of the individual skulls in each grouping. To facilitate comparison with modern humans I have averaged the mean values which Aiello-Dunbar give for males and females of the present and called this the Mean for Living Humans. As a reminder that the samples are small (and the results thus rather less than reliable in some, if not most, instances) I have included, for each group of skulls, the number of specimens on which the calculations were based. In the column at the far right I have given, in the form of an absolute value, the amount of increase in brain volume for each grouping of skulls over the preceding grouping. These quasi-specific groupings are chronologically arranged according to average estimated date. Thus, the skulls of australopithicus africanus, which have a mean estimated date of 2.875 million years before the present, show an increase of 17,516 cubic millimeters over those of australopithicus afarensis with its mean date of 3.1 million years before the present. Summary of Brain Volumes in Human Ancestral Skulls
![]() A graphic presentation of the data contained in column (3) in the above table. What about the two 'bursts' in brain enlargement which Aiello sees connected to certain major cultural watersheds (and which others, including Mithen himself, have uncritically accepted as implicit in her data)? As I have already indicated, the two 'bursts' in brain development are not evident to ordinary perception and were, in fact, not even mentioned by Aiello and Dunbar in the article in which the measurements of the individual skulls were originally presented. They seem to have come out of the blue. While there appears to have been a 'rapid' increase in encephalization shortly after two million years ago, which coincides with the effects of the glacial expansion at the poles (a probable causal irritant in the adaptive process we are considering), there is nothing to indicate that brain size became stable for a significant period of time... and that it began, at the end of this prolonged phase (in which 'nothing happens'), to increase once again at an extraordinary rate. In other words, the 'two bursts', which Aiello and others discern in the data, would seem to arise from the imagination of the scientists themselves. In the pages which follow I shall attempt a more complete exploratory examination of the mythic background against which issues of this kind must be approached. But let me first affirm one or two obvious points: there is, in fact, a 'burst' in brain enlargement -- not two but one. Almost anything of general significance one may say about our evolutionary experience in its entirety is linked, somehow, to the explosive increase in encephalization which characterized the emergence of our species in Ice-Age times. No-one, outside a motley contingent of Christian 'creationists' (who reject the facts of evolution out-of-hand), would question that this took place. The rate of the increase, on the anticipated time-scale of evolutionary process, was dramatic. Few would deny, moreover, that this 'burst' in brain size was the physical correlate of a prodigiously expanding cognitive capacity, whatever its exact nature and cultural effects. ![]() A graphic presentation of the data contained in column (4) in the above table. Column #4, which plots the increases from one grouping to the other, is instructive, if only for the fact that it highlights the probable cultural context within which the 'greatest increase' in encephalization appears to have occurred. This transpired not in association with some known technical innovation, or major 'advance' in the production of an enduring material culture, but at the time when the species undertook the most remarkable of all hominid ventures to that point: its expansion beyond the boundaries of the ancestral homeland (and subsequent colonization of much of Africa and half the continent of Eurasia)! This event was likely the historical mile-marker for an extraordinary expansion of social experience. It takes no bold leap of the imagination to see this immense period of human geographic exploration, with its inevitable widening of the discursive compass (in the generous sense in which such terms are employed in the pages of this document), as sufficient experiential grounding for a dramatic change in hominid encephalization. Yet it appears most distressing to interpretive paleontologists and evolutionary biologists (from Glynn Isaac on) that the widening of the geographic borders of human existence (which the brain increase appears to accompany) took place in association with no conspicuous signs of cultural-technical advance. Erectus seems to have accomplished its remarkable adaptation to the earth's diverse climates and topographies with no more than the simplest of stone tools, at best the primitive 'hand-axes' he/she inherited from his/her humble predecessor homo habilis. In the Far East, this extraordinary probing of new terrain and parallel internal exploration of new consciousness (inevitably a reflection of what transpires in the relation of the organism to the physical landscape) gives, in fact, the appearance of taking place in the total absence of a material culture, if the archaeological record is to be taken at face value (which, of course, it can not be). (We confront an apparent fact of human evolution: the concept of the enduring material object was slow to enter the mythic 'gallery of virtues'!) The human brain continued to exhibit a striking increase in size with the appearance of archaic homo sapiens, at which time we do note the first timid attempts to 'improve' the old stone technology (the so-called 'Levallois technique'). Brain volumes continued to increase (if at a somewhat reduced rate) with the appearance of the Neanderthals who are believed to have made the second strictly 'modern' contribution to the stone toolkit (hafting); but surely neither of these co-incidences is the singular confluence of events the evolutionary biologists dream of. They are too isolated, first of all. But, more importantly, they pre-date the emergence of language and the vaunted 'cultural explosion' which is supposed to have announced the arrival of the modern species.(46) To see these 'improvements', individually or in combination with each other (and possibly related but unknown events), as the cultural correlate of the biological process in question would be to see the second 'burst' in brain enlargement as 'theirs', not 'ours', an intolerable circumstance from the neo-orthogenetic position which the evolutionary sciences adopt without reservation. Such an assessment of the facts appears to challenge the first rule of this approach: which is that the species, in its present 'ideal' parameters, provides the appropriate 'baseline' for viewing and evaluating all past evolutionary achievement. (This issue will be discussed again in the present chapter). | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| To be sure, encephalization does reach a kind of climax, in absolute terms, in the brain volumes of the five persons Aiello and company have designated as Early Modern; but here the sample is so small and the rate of the increase so slack, relative to that which came before, that the case for a major cultural-biological confluence is weak, this time on the biological side. But if we go on to view these brain volumes against the living record of today, the increases appear to fall off rather dramatically, not just from the high-point of the Early Moderns but from the average values of the Neanderthals as well, a fact Aiello and Dunbar do not bother to account for, or even mention; though it holds a clue, I believe, to some of the most vexing problems of the Upper-paleolithic and the puzzling transition to modern cultural forms. No biological adaptation is without its mythic component and this is clearly evident in the case of human brain enlargement, both as a primary motivating factor in evolutionary process and as an object of scientific observation and inquiry. |
| Whose myth? It should be deeply apparent, especially to those whose business it is to scrutinize the complex nexus of physical and meta-physical events which comprise the totality of human evolution, that attempts to tie the former to specific occurrences of the latter is a tricky undertaking at best, especially when residue is sparse on both sides. But the universal recognition of the foregoing notwithstanding, inquiry fixes, often, on certain observed 'linkages' in the data and proceeds as though these were definitive points of correspondence -- when, in actual fact, the larger 'innference' (which is supposedly gained from the observed 'connection') may be the fabrication entirely of the researcher him or herself, the singular output of his or her own preferred version of the prevailing mythology.(47) To understand why Aiello-Dunbar's view of increasing human encephalization has become widely accepted (and why its apparently abrupt cessation, and possible reversal, has been suppressed in all final assessments of its meaning), we must recognize such claims as the expression of certain specific mytho-ideological precepts. These are, in partial summary (and in anticipation of much which will follow), the idea that the physical product of the human imagination is the exclusive bearer of cultural meaning; that process, or discourse, is irrelevant outside the regulatory context of a material culture with its capacity for the standardization of meanings and the arbitrary fixing of image and feeling. The myth which guides Western inquiry allows for the expression of the metaphysical but only to the experientially crippling extent that its content remains symbolically structured and securely aligned with modern social and cultural expectations. Thus the capacity for 'language' is permitted to emerge... but only within the framework provided by certain well-defined cultural constraints (unfortunately absent in the case at issue), i.e. in the clearly delineated presence of structures which impose symbolic meanings on cognition, discourse, endeavor, etc. These culturally affirmed structures, which effectively simplify the perception of the social reality (while creating distance between the experiencing entity and the world external to itself), give us 'modern' language, language 'as we have known it'.(48) Thus the estimated brain volumes of our hominid forebears place modern researchers in a bind. The phenomenal growth of this organ (hardly to be denied by those who value the 'objective evidence') appears to have been accompanied by no evidence of extraordinary cultural achievement. This is the unfortunate conclusion one must derive from the relevant facts. The immense change in cognitive capacity takes place in a setting one is forced to characterize, if one chooses to subscribe to the major tenets of the prevailing mythology, as a cultural 'wasteland'. The intrusion of the supernatural... It has been assumed, at the cultural periphery of this issue, that the developing brain size has somehow to do with the emergence of 'art and religion', two categories of human 'behavior' which science inevitably lumps together. The reasons for this conventional association are perplexing because the two phenomena spring from entirely different structures of the mind and exhibit strikingly different sets of social purposes. The latter inevitably raises the issue of the 'supernatural' in association with the all-too material exercise of political authority (its functional raison d'etre); while the former, for all its 'uniquely human' ramifications and complexities, remains a wholly natural phenomenon, revealed within a specialized domain of the metaphorical, the actual center of all evolutionary process. This is not to deny that 'art' can serve religious intent, or that religion, despite the social purpose which typically underlies its expression, has the capacity to produce extensive metaphysical meanings and effects, as do all human actions and undertakings. The truth of the matter seems to be that the widespread confusion of the metaphysical and the supernatural is politically motivated. In any case, phenomena believed to exhibit the first signs of a 'religious predisposition' in the developing consciousness of humanity -- increasingly elaborate burial precedures for the most part -- have the unfortunate drawback of seeming to take place after human encephalization has begun to stabilize (and possibly diminish). There remains, of course, the factor which invariably complicates this discussion: namely, the striking capacity of the genus for enhanced vocalization and social interaction (already discussed both at length and in passing). Here we agree wholeheartedly with Aiello and Dunbar that human brain expansion was likely connected to an expanded social awareness and the emergence of language. Not as an artifactual system of symbols(49), however, but as metaphor and direct representation of the organism's internal state (as reviewed in Part One -- Chapter II). So long as we refrain from investing our earliest human forebears with a capacity for 'symbolic communication' (for which compelling evidence is lacking), there is every reason to assume that significant linguistic development ran parallel, and in a distinct relation of reciprocity, with increasing encephalization. Certainly all discursive elements will have played a significant role in both social and biological evolution, though naturally the timing, and precise interpretation, of each raises issues of theory which are menacing, to say the least. The progressive fallacy... Much of what paleontology has to say about the human record proceeds from the assumption that the organism's final social-biological condition (i.e. its present form) constitutes some kind of 'goal' toward which adaptive pressures, in apparent obliviousness to all else, have pushed it these hundreds of thousands upon thousands of years. This is the perverse and unyielding framework within which everything of significance is seen to transpire. The human evolutionary experience is regarded as intrinsically progressive, always aiming toward the present, always affirming of present structures and expectations. What is believed to be true about the present becomes the invaluable 'baseline' for viewing the past. Our evaluation of the past proceeds in terms of present functions and needs. In the light of this refurbished 'orthogenesis' (which is, at the same time, neo-Darwinian in its mytho-political emphasis on the individual as the focus of natural process) the totality of the human past appears as a defective version of the present! Blind to nearly everything else, we rummage in the material residue of bye-gone millennia for anticipatory signs of the coming of 'you-know-who',(50) the apogee of all natural process. (The mere fact that we feel free to discuss the history of technology in terms of consecutive 'improvements' betrays this underlying bias.) Science is in a hurry, moreover, impatient with periods of apparent 'stasis' in our collective experience, cultural moments in our past when our understanding of 'what had to be done' was not exactly 'in focus'. Vast intervals of apparent stability are out-of place in the distracting presence of an ultimate state of 'perfection' (toward which the organism continuously strives). Thus the tendency, on the part of the investigator, to reshape the evidence itself in the disclosure of his or her particular version of the cherished mythology. The actual record is compromised, sometimes falsified beyond recognition, in an effort to bring the 'findings' of the investigative effort into better alignment with currently accepted belief. Or, when all else fails, as appears to have happened in the present instance, the high priests of evolutionary science, the principal apologists for the treasured articles of credo, are forced to dispense with the data altogether, meager as these are, and create the world anew. The deplorable reality... Let us consider a few especially troublesome areas of contemporary research, beginning with the difficult question of tools, their invention and use, and the making of a material culture, a tangle of closely related issues which, in my opinion, comprise the rocks on which much current interpretive paleontology founders. Nothing puts the mythic predicament of the neo-orthogeneticist in better focus. Inquiry is perplexed by the fact that homo habilis and homo erectus, the hominids believed to represent definitive stages in the reconstruction of our evolutionary line, failed to recognize the obvious limitations of their preferred toolkit (though they were in possession of a prodigiously expanding neo-cortex). The problem is the crude hand-axes and scrapers they seemed to produce without end. Why, science asks, does this meager assortment of tools consist solely of multi-purpose devices? Why is there virtually no evidence of specialization, the true indicator of modern human technical and intellectual achievement? (On this last point evolutionary scientists are in remarkable agreement.) Anthropologist Richard Klein (Stanford University), whose search for evidence of the inferiority of Neanderthal culture is tireless, appears to believe that an incapacity for specialization is the main reason this population of humans failed to adapt. Klein may be right. But the issue has a complicating aspect which should be noted here in passing. In the wider view, specialization may be the state which early human technical development left behind. And what we call 'specialization' in the modern frame of reference may be simply reactive. There appears, in any case, to be a marked disjuncture between the approach of homo habilis to tool-making (and use) and what one may assume, on the basis of our understanding of the actions of living related primates, was the practice of their immediate predecessors, the australopithecines. The tools of the latter were likely devoted to particular tasks (and produced as the need arose, not in anticipation of different, if similar, technical applications)... yet when homo habilis makes its first appearance in the fossil record he/she emerge as technical 'generalists'.(51) To be sure, the argument for such a presumption is conjectural. One must adduce, as the sole supportive evidence for such a claim, the observed behavior of other living primates. I have in mind the specialized toolkit of our cousins, the chimpanzees: the twigs they employ to fish termites from holes, or the rocks and anvils they have been observed to use to crack the hard shells of seeds or nuts, tools which are ad hoc in their manufacture and direct in their application. These creatures, who are assumed, in the absence of directly observable evidence, to provide the best information in the reconstruction of the human evolutionary line, appear to be 'specialists', as are other tool-users in the animal kingdom. Using the chimpanzee "as an analogy for our earliest human ancestor," Steven Mithen seems to say roughly the same thing: ...their tools are... used for a limited range of tasks, and chimpanzees appear to be rather poor at thinking about new ways to use tools (Mithen, p. 78). To my knowledge, science has done little with this apparent discontinuity -- this back-and-forth -- in the reconstruction of our evolutionary predispositions, though it proffers a clue, I believe, to a distinctive property of the early human mind. Humans may have had, from the 'beginning', a capacity to construct the world holistically, that is, to assemble a picture of reality through the application of 'filters' which capture the relatedness of the parts to the whole. This was, as suggested above, a gift for generalization (or metaphor) which recent humans seem to have lost in all but its crudest forms, or are, at least, in imminent danger of losing (as Stafford Beer has warned). ('Metaphor' may seem to be a strange word to describe this 'uniquely human' grasp of the potential efficacy of a tool. But what is the propensity to see the 'general' in the 'specific' [or what Jerry Fodor has termed the human 'passion for the analogic'] if not a gift for 'metaphor'?) The urge to see the general in the specific may be the most salient feature of early human cognition. Even today, when a tool is devised (and ultimately marketed) for a particular purpose, users will discover a range of practical applications which its inventor may not have anticipated. The general-purpose tool of my neighbors in Central America is the 'machete', an instrument developed originally for use in the cane fields. However, the 'machete' now serves a range of purposes which its manufacturers could not possibly have foreseen. It is used to mow lawns, to clear land for grass or grain production, to cut kindling and firewood for cooking, to cut meat and vegetables, to dig small holes in the ground, to plant and cultivate gardens, to trim the hooves of horses. There are other specific applications too numerous to list. I have seen skilled workers, with steady hand and eye, use the super-sharp blades of their 'machetes' to remove the broad leaves from stalks of plantain which are then folded and eventually used as a food packaging material. I have watched as 'machetes', in the steadiest of hands, cut narrow lengths of tough cord from the stalks of the same plantain, now stripped of their leaves. These they use to tie the latter, nicely folded in the meantime, into neat bundles for transportation to the kitchens of the community where they are used in the preparation and cooking of 'tamales', food items popular at Christmas and on other festive occasions. I have seen the flat side of the 'machete' used to slap the rear ends of children, affectionately as well as to correct behavior adults feel needs correcting. Needless to say, this tool has been often employed for personal protection (as well as in offensive assaults on humans and other animals). Early humans, unlike their forbears (and those who would immediately follow), possessed an astonishing ability to construct the world in terms of a finite set of properties, a limited inventory of 'conceptual primitives'. These comprised the key to their world of experience, a world which was evidently quite different from ours in its surface manifestations as in its cognitive substratum. Note that these meanings were not symbolic, or arbitrary in their construction, but directly and quasi-universally acknowledged. Culturally reinforced, they were, nevertheless, seemingly innate, experienced by all. They were the organism's special way of 'looking at' nature. (I am inclined to call these mythic elements 'innate' because they have maintained, many of them, a surprisingly consistent vestigial presence across cultures, surviving, even today, in a context which is hostile to their existence.) A victim of specialization... But at some (relatively recent) point human evolution took a turn which seems now extraordinary in retrospect. If any single factor is to account for the rapid transition to 'modern forms' (and the abrupt reversal of encephalization), it may well be the rather sudden failure (or accelerated disuse) of this 'unique' capacity of hominid intelligence. The gradual emergence of agriculture and, eventually, modern social dispensations were events which successfully opposed the trend of two million years. Experience became now gradually simplified for vast numbers of sentient beings. Extensive lateral connection gave way to a divided and vertically organized perception of the world (as I have already intimated and shall attempt to clarify further in the remaining pages of the chapter). The members of our species who somehow managed, physically, to survive this assault on the traditional consciousness became, nonetheless, effectively disconnected in their larger social relationships and life experience. Steven Mithen's notion, to be discussed more fully in a moment, that the mental architecture of homo erectus and company was modular, or compartmentalized, while the anatomically modern specimen, by contrast, exhibited a strikingly 'fluid' imaginative capability would appear, on first consideration, to be as reasonable as it is intriguing. That is, 'they' were the 'cognitive specialists' while 'we', always improving on the past, were the emerging 'generalists'. My opinion, however, is that Mithen, and others who pursue the same line of thought, have the evolutionary sequence turned around. Specialization was the innovating (if distinctly reactive) element, culturally and cognitively, while the capacity to see the general in the specific was (and remains) its victim. The body as a material resource... Another question which rises from the same vein (and which Mithen seeks to answer in the same way). Why were our human forebears, whose mental powers, after all, were gradually approaching 'modern standards', so limited in their choice of materials for the manufacture of the 'hardware' they obviously needed and depended upon? Although pre-moderns (including erectus) were likely natural historians par excellence, they seemed to have no glimmering of the potential utility of certain body parts of animals. Why does the pre-modern toolkit contain no items of bone, antler, and ivory -- materials which are easily worked, are clearly more flexible than stone and have thus a superior ability to resist fracture; these, after all, are important considerations when it comes to many routine technical applications, whether these be primitive or advanced in conception and style. |
| Why no handles? Or why, evolutionary science has wondered additionally, was the manufacture of multi-component tools delayed for such an interminable and frustrating period of time? (Until the appearance of the Neanderthals as a matter of infrequently noted fact.) Why were these ancestors of humans not cognitively equipped to recognize, at the very least, the fact that tools which are hafted can be used with great felicity? They can be wielded as hammers, with enhanced force and impact, or even hurtled with deadly accuracy as projectiles. How is one to explain this vast technical hesitancy on the part of a people who were nearly modern in their anatomical (and presumably neurological) endowment? There is surely something we overlook. These specimens should not have been terribly different from the people who would, one day, get together in conferences of scholars and scientists (and employ advanced systems of mathematics to investigate material reality)! A cultural stability of sorts... And finally, a question which inquiry appears to find the most irksome of all: why does the toolkit of early humans show so little variation across the huge geography of the Middle Pleistocene? An extremely limited and precisely similar inventory of tools is found in a wide range of latitudes and topographies of the old world; and in what science tells us comprised, originally, a great diversity of climates and environmental settings. In other words, the very stability of this primitive body of practical knowledge, considered by more than a few researchers to be evidence of an excruciating cultural monotony, would seem to require explanation. A 'barrier' to cognitive fluidity... As already indicated, Steven Mithen has sought to explain many of these outstanding issues of human origin with reference to a "...barrier between the technical and natural history intelligences within the Early Human mind" (1996, p. 130). In time this 'barrier' was eroded, Mithen believes, with the result that the fully modern human being exhibits a 'cognitive fluidity' which his and her forebears (and the Neanderthals notably) lacked. In one sense Mithen may be on to something. But, as indicated above, I believe the 'barrier' he speaks of will turn out to be wrongly placed. I shall attempt to demonstrate, in the remaining body of this text, that the 'cognitive flexibility' (or what I have called the capacity for 'metaphor' and the 'cross-structuring' of experience), which Mithen sees increasing from our earliest primate ancestors to the appearance of the australopithecines and then reversing itself until the appearance of modern humans (see Mithen, p. 211), will be discovered to have been continuously on the increase through all phases in the course of human evolutionary 'progress', to be halted (and possibly reversed) only with the appearance of the modern species. The view presented here (of hominid cultural and social evolution) is broadly compatible, I believe, with the fossil record such as it is. |
| A tentative proposal... Let us attempt to deal in our own way with the intriguing and multi-faceted problems enumerated and briefly discussed in the foregoing. Let us proceed from a point of view which ignores the usual assumptions of the evolutionary sciences. Let us consider, for a few moments, the 'technical conservatism' of early humans not as a cultural 'defect', waiting for the 'ultimate coming' of its evolutionary rationale and justification, but as the natural consequence (and probable affirmation) of a construction of the world which was complete in itself, a perception of 'reality' which modern specimens have lost, let us go on to assume (in the light of Stafford Beer's cogent insight), as a result of some fundamental change in our mythic vantage point (or mytho-psychological orientation). The elaboration of mythic primitives... In practical terms, the history of human technology and culture can be seen as the complex interplay (with its rich assortment of mytho-cultural surprises) of basic elements of meaning in the consciousness of the emerging species. There can be no question that many of the crucial strands in this narrative exposition are first detectable in the hominid transition to (1) upright posture which (2) freed the hands for a wide diversity of expressive (and explicitly discursive) functions while (3) greatly enhancing ground-surface mobility which exposed, in turn, the evolving organism to (4) greater heterogeneity and complexity of environmental and social interaction. All of these major developments in human cultural-biological evolution were part-and-parcel of social adaptation (as here broadly characterized) and each had the particular share of mythic support appropriate to its genesis, a fact few researchers seem to pay any attention to. Yet we can assume that the mythic structures underlying these developments were far-reaching in their neurological effects and would, as a group, have provided adequate cause, or sufficient conceptual 'stimulus', for the approximate doubling in brain size which took place in the period roughly of a million-and-a-half years (i.e. between the appearance of homo habilis, who possessed a brain volume, on average, of 597,411 mm3, and that of archaic homo sapiens with a brain volume of 1,193,525 mm3). To be sure, this rather remarkable difference is ignored by Aiello and her colleagues whose need, as I have already indicated, it is to see the physiological picture as uneventful. (My tentative expectation is that the further recovery of skulls from the Beginning and Middle Pleistocene will confirm their worst fears.) A 'digital' technology... Although the topic has been given little or no attention by science, it should be obvious that the elaboration of tool production and use, which is supposed to herald the appearance of the anatomically modern human being, had to be preceded by a very long period in which the material culture consisted mostly of items manufactured with the fingers and hands. But these 'hand-made' objects were also, unfortunately, the least likely to have left traces in the archaeological record. The completed artifact, the only material residue of such methods of production, was fragile and would itself have been an eventual casualty of the environment which produced it. (The material culture was a victim, in some if not most cases, of the rising oceans at the end of the Pleistocene. If these early humans were forest-dwellers, as seems likely, than the moist acidity of the sylvan soils would have provided an especially inhospitable environment for the preservation of their material culture.) And since no assemblage of associated objects survives, the culture of its ancient manufacturers and users presents a humdrum appearance to working specialists, who must satisfy their professional curiosity with a meager assortment of stone tools and human and animal bones. It is hardly a cultural short-coming of our human forebears that their 'direct use' of nature would leave few traces in the archaeological record! Indeed, the direct application of nature may have been the only application their catalogue of 'mythic virtues' allowed. Perhaps the cognitive framework did not yet exist in which mediated relationship, i.e. the erection of a 'technical bridge' between human action and the 'world out there', could be conceptualized, much less affirmed in an enduring manner. It should not surprise us to discover that emerging humanity eschewed the alienating production methods we associate with modern technology. To impinge upon the world, in some fashion short of direct engagement, may have been to risk a breach of mythic principle. Nevertheless, I have no doubt that hands and fingers were well occupied during this vast period of 'technical hesitancy'. Very much in progress was the building of the physical dexterity and mind-boggling mind-muscle coordination with which would, one day, transform the wall surfaces at Chauvet and Lascaux (and deal, in a later period still, with the complexities of Beethoven's Hammerklavier). Only the process was enduring... Though the circumstance may be inconvenient to researchers, it is scarcely a cultural defect that the material objects of the 'culture' and 'community' our ancestors were in the process continuously of reconstructing did not reflect the modern virtue of 'permanence'. Indeed, for erectus and his and her immediate forebears even the concept of home, as a unique place of refuge, had yet to emerge in the collective imagination. Certainly it did not yet have the specifically modern meaning of a physical enclosure of enduring character. Our biological antecedents did not yet know the physical structure we call 'home' because the forest, in and around which they pursued their particular form of subsistence living, was (tritely if truly speaking) their 'home'. Like the ancient Fenni, whom Tacitus encountered in Northern Europe, house and home (and limited community(52)) may have been established each night anew. This mode of domesticity, not yet precisely 'nomadic' but still not physically centered (in the way we envision it today), would have yielded scant residue for present-day archaeologists and others to ponder. Nevertheless, though the material output of such manifestations of social action may have been fragile and fleeting, the communal routine, the process itself (ritually enacted and imbued with mythic significance), had likely a form which endured. There may be an evolutionary precedent, among our primate ancestors, for such a sense of the 'permanent': not as an attribute of a material object but as a quality abiding in present action, the conceptual manifestation of an enduring process. The bonobos, our closest living kin, assemble community each night and build new 'nests' in the tops of trees, wherever convenient and whatever the nature of the highly variegated diurnal activities which bring them apart. This performance, at once individual and collective, is highly ritualistic in tenor and reveals a manipulation of metaphor which, though hidden, perhaps, beneath the surface actions of the group, is nevertheless straightforward in its articulation and 'permanently' etched, it appears, in the collective consciousness. Researchers have pointed out (to continue in the same vein) that, in the imagination of the bonobo, the construction of a 'nest' signifies the inviolability of one's personal 'space'.(53) However, as an act performed, at the end of the day, by all members of the community more or less simultaneously, the building of a 'nest' conveys a larger and more inclusive message: that is, the individual part, when all is said and done, has function and value primarily in relation to the whole. Myth-driven impulses rarely assert themselves independently but tend to be highly embedded, i.e. clustered, in their occurrence. We have no way of knowing and evaluating the material output of Homo erectus, except that it was fragile and, almost certainly, produced without tools; or with tools which were themselves fragile and probably ad hoc in their production, as tools are today in the routine of people whose work brings them significant distances from home and who do not have motorized vehicles to carry the technical wherewithal they need for their jobs. Invisible to archaeology... The 'peones', who do the hard work of the farms in mountainous Central America, carry with them at all times the all-purpose 'machete' (the diverse applications of which were discussed briefly above). One sees these men (occasionally women) at night and in the early morning walking, in high rubber boots, along the horse and mule trails which bisect the steamy rainforests in this elevated portion of Central America, connecting its few farm-sites and villages. However, their work, which comprises (among much else) the maintenance of fences and the clearing of brush which impedes movement along the fence-rows, requires the use of two additional tools which they do not carry with them, each with its specialized function. The one is an implement consisting of a straight handle, about two feet in length (the precise length depending upon the height of the worker and the length of his or her arms), the end of which has a prong, approximately seven inches in length, which protrudes at a right angle. This tool, called a 'garabato' (which means simply 'hook'), is held by right-handed users in the left hand, prong extending outward, and is used to rake back weeds and brush after cutting, while the right hand wields the 'machete'. The second tool is a 'stretcher' (made 'on the spot' from the forked branches of a tree), which is used to string wire, or tighten loose wire, in a fence line. Containing two handles, approximately eighteen inches apart at end, which converge in a single stem, around which an end of the barbed wire (to be stretched) is wrapped, the latter tool is a classic 'simple machine' which trades 'distance' for 'force'. Holding the butt end of the stem securely on the side of a post (opposite the wire which is to be stretched), the worker rotates the two handles through the number of degrees required to tighten the loose strand of barbed wire. This is a procedure which is elegant in its execution, always a pleasure to observe. Normally, the worker does not suspend the devices described above from his or her tool-belt but makes them up, as needed, from the forked branches of brush or small trees. It is perhaps unnecessary to note further that multi-purpose devices, i.e. the 'machete' in this case, comprise the more permanent part of the worker's toolkit, while specialized instruments tend to be transient in their conception, fragile in their material composition, and ad hoc in their manufacture and use. The fence stretcher and brush rake can be made anew as occasion requires and are often left, at day's end, where last used. There they rot into the tropical soil whence they sprang. To break or to bridge... Let us consider now the nexus between myth and technology. Tools embody basic levels of meaning. These meanings are fundamental to their creation and use and tend to override, in a mytho-cultural sense, any strictly utilitarian notions we may conjure of their value. Altogether these meanings comprise the mythic dimension of the particular technology and are discovered at three levels of apprehension: the first having a kind of universal relevance in that it sees a certain meaning as the common property of all tools, the second being related to the production of the particular instrument, which it can never quite get away from. The third level of understanding relates, of course, to the tool's application. (The famous hand-axe, the archetypal instrument of the male hominid's interaction with the world, evokes the familiar 'myth of separation' at all three levels of apprehension.) Beginning with the first of these. In the imagination of its user a tool underscores the perception that the world is a physically 'separate' reality; in much the way that the use of language, 'as we know it' (the seemingly necessary, if treacherous, caveat), underscores the speaker's sense of a distinct division of persons. This conceptual reinforcement -- now simple, now complexly manifest -- may be a foundational element in the 'meaning' the tool conveys, no matter what its physical character and ostensible 'purpose'. To use a tool, whatever its composition and specific application, is to break the continuity between our bodies, our primary instrument of experience and action, and the phenomenal reality of the milieu we seek to change. This sense of a 'separation' of 'actor' and 'acted upon' has become extensively manifest in modern human culture and is invariably construed as a value in itself. It springs from the same source as the 'distancing' mechanisms of language, i.e. the creation of formal grammatical structures for the separation of the 'other' (which myth likewise broadly affirms). Together these phenomena tend to bring about an attenuation of personal and social relationship, an effective severing of the individual from the experiential basis of existence. (Here we discern, in the pre-suppositions of early human culture, the first muted indications of a social pathology.) However, a tool, aside from the fact that it is itself a constituent element of this 'separated reality', appears also as a mytho-psychological 'extension' of the acting entity, something which lies, cognitively-imaginally, between the domain of the self and the world as an external object. This enormously complicates the sense of a tool as a simple 'distancing mechanism' (or instrument of 'alienation'). Here the tool, to bring the concept into closer analogy with human vocalization and discourse, becomes itself an expressive instrument in the reproduction (or enhancement) of the particular internal state of affairs. The tool itself reveals a discursive function. It goes without saying that the piano (or word-processor) constitutes, as the complex output of remote industrial production, a definite 'barrier' which the organism erects between the world (and the assortment of metaphysical possibilities mundane perceptions give rise to) and itself as a creating and experiencing entity. Nonetheless, this 'tool' is the principal enabling factor in the delivery, or emotive representation, of that hidden arrangement of images which comprise the pianist's (or writer's) 'feelings'. It is often said that the measure of the artist's communicative skill is his or her capacity to make the enabling mechanism disappear, to establish the illusion of a direct relation between creator and artifact (and creator and his or her public). This standard, revealed as metaphor, is likely the residue of a prior state of technology and mind. The discussion brings to my mind an acquaintance who is skilled in the use of the lariat. The image you may nourish of the roping of horses, as an act of coercive violence (associated, in many minds, with North American images of the 'wild west'), would be subject to immediate revision if you could watch this gifted person in interaction with the animals he works with on a daily basis. The loop of the lariat circles benignly in the air, a seemingly direct extension of the body of its owner, settling lightly on the shoulders of the unsuspecting animal... who then promptly responds to the light pressure of the line on the neck and withers, turns her head, seems to forget the open pasture which held her attention to that point, and approaches her human partner, now in an entirely receptive frame of mind. Little force has been applied, no tugging and cinching of the rope appears to have been needed. On the contrary: the animal seems eager to begin the day's work.(54) The world as artifact... But the use of a tool may reflect, as a consequence of its mere presence, the sense that the divisions perceived, in the reality external to the organism, exist to be bridged. This is the sense of a world which is, indeed, 'separate' (and itself extensively 'divided'), but a world which is likely to benefit, we imagine (as products ourselves of some principle of separation), from our intervention... even though the actions in question may result in the further compounding of division. (The latter is an element of meaning which was merely accommodated 'originally' but is now extravagantly affirmed.) In any case, out of some such constellation of images has emerged the strikingly modern sense of the world as potential artifact (a matter we shall explore at length in later portions of this chapter).(55) No 'piece of cake'... Where we end up mytho-conceptually seems to depend upon whether we engage the world directly or indirectly: whether our intent to 'reshape nature', in the particular case, is realized through the direct implementation of our own physical resources, or through the application of external mediating structures of some kind. It goes without saying that the former is the more ancient human propensity. And the transition to the new mode of production was no easy matter, as our overview of the immense period of apparent 'stasis' in human cultural evolution will attempt to illustrate. When that prolonged period of stability finally ended, and humanity found itself embarked on a new socio-cultural adventure, the new tools -- the mediating instruments themselves -- would carry important emblematic meanings for the new social and cultural organization (and enter, not exactly fortuitously, into an ever closer association with male action and endeavor). The difference between the 'old' and the 'new' would remain profound and palpable, however, and tends to surface even in the consciousness of humans living today. Much depends, mytho-conceptually, upon the choice of tool (and method) in the particular instance. Consider 'to cleave' and 'to join', two seemingly antithetical technical operations, each with its own history (and specific alignment with respect to gender, by the way, a topic I have touched on and will return to). Some tools carry an explicit surface meaning of separation -- axes, choppers, knives, wedges -- while others may serve to connect the disparate elements of a divided universe: welders, crochet hooks, and sewing needles, for example(56). However, the latter may be a mix of conceptual elements. The method implicit in the use of a tool may evoke structures which run parallel to its surface message and may, in fact, contradict its primary meaning. A particular method may evoke connection in its surface content while, on a radical level of perception, the same procedure may emerge as stridently dissociating. Nuts and bolts, and other mediating hardware, are undoubtedly connective in their primary function (and in what can be regarded as their mythic 'intent'). Nonetheless, as the output of distant industrial production themselves, and depending, at the least complicated level of application and analysis, upon an assortment of tools which are of similarly complex and remote industrial origin -- wrenches and augers to wit -- nuts and bolts may constitute an essentially disruptive element in the relation between the hands and mind of the producer and the primary materials of production, i.e. the objects of the external world the producer believes 'need connecting'. Such modes of manufacture, with their powerful implication of an intervening level of artifactual production, may be a hidden source of stress in the modern workplace despite their surface 'use-meaning'. There are plentiful indications that the human 'adaptation' to such forms of manufacture has not been without problems, even for moderns. Direct and integrating... Modes of fabrication in which intent and method appear at cross-purposes conceptually, may be drawn into useful contrast with weaving and tying, methods of production which, in their traditional applications, do away with secondary devices (and tools) altogether. Relying on materials which are immediately available and instantly responsive to the mere 'touch' of human hands and fingers, such modes of joinder have not lost their capacity to placate the ruffled sensory disposition. A direct relation is established between the producer and the primary materials of production. No alienating product (or process) intervenes. The 'mind' of the producer remains in a high state of assimilation and repose.(57) (Indeed, therapists who treat the emotionally troubled, have long recognized the efficacy of activities such as these in returning the disturbed patient to normal function.) Articles produced in this direct fashion -- containers and other woven items which, we may assume, served a wide range of ordinary and obscure purposes -- comprised, no doubt, the earliest examples of human material culture and were, no doubt, integrating in both their production and use. In some early cultures 'baskets', already evocative of 'connection' in their specific mode of production, acquired, in all likelihood, a strong mythic association with the human female due, first, to the division of labor by gender and, second, to the principal functional meaning of 'containment' which such items inevitably carried (and which became likewise a traditional marker of female 'identity'). (Systems of male privilege and dominance would generalize and tend to degrade these twin features of production and use, as well as the larger category -- the human female and 'nature herself' -- which they had come to represent.) An astonishing adaptation... Let us explore, for a few moments longer, the dynamic of 'direct process'. To 'touch' something was/is to establish, intentionally or inadvertently, 'physical contact' with an object in the environment external to ourselves. From a mytho-conceptual perspective such an act was/is a momentous event. All organisms, including plants we are told, have the capacity to experience tactile sensations -- but it seems that humans, through a remarkable evolutionary adaptation which allows their digital extremities to move independently, have brought the use of this faculty to a level of refinement and sophistication which may be unparalleled in the records of plant and animal achievement. Moreover, movements of the hands and fingers assist the organism in expressing the complexities of its feelings and aspirations and have been proven to be necessary communicative elements in traditional discourse. Sensory co-ordination... Fingers and hands enabled our hominid forebears to engage the adjacent environment more fully and for a greater range of discursive and utilitarian purposes. (The development of the tactile was secondary only to the evolution of prehension in primates, the foundational adaptation.) This they did in a direct fashion which was extensively co-ordinated with other modes of perception, movements of the eye in particular. The act of touching (and feeling) was/is, in fact, analogous to the operation of vision itself, its functional co-hort (if, at times, its evolutionary denouement). Like the eye, our fingers display, on occasions, a notably exploratory function. They roam the surface of the objective field in search of some irregularity... drawing our attention, often unexpectedly, to an area of particular interest, much as the eye notes a moving object on the distant horizon. A careful examination of the area in question typically continues, with acute 'attention' to detail and heightened deployment of mental discipline. Sweep and focus appears to have been the unmarked investigatory sequence for each of these closely affiliated modes of perception/response. Competing representations... But it is important not to lose sight of (touch with) the fact that the one form of cognizance brings the body of the experiencing organism into direct contact with the environment adjacent to itself, while the other, always the model for the 'objective consciousness' of the emerging species (as we have learned from the extensive ruminations of Nobel Laureate Francis Crick(58)), creates inevitably a distance between the two. The visual reality is always something removed, something alienated, from the physical boundary of the experiencing organism. From a primitive mytho-conceptual perspective, the visual construction must emerge as somehow antithetical to tactile representations of the world. Emotive reciprocity... And, indeed, there follows, largely as a consequence of the above incongruity, the interesting circumstance that the discursive potential of the two modes of perception is differently realized. Whereas the sighting of an object becomes the metaphoric basis for mere understanding(59)-- i.e. for the merely 'objective' evaluation of the character of an object and its relation to the world -- to touch an object means not only to run one's fingers over its surface boundary (and gain, perhaps, an inkling of its 'essence') but to affect it, i.e. to transfer an aspect of one's own inner state to the 'object itself', there to be replicated as feeling. That is, an 'object' can be touched by something we do or say. Thus we stroke the surface of familiar 'objects' in the non-living environment, as though they were themselves sentient beings. The sense of an 'animated nature' appears to survive in the consciousness of the modern organism! But it is possible, in the Early to Middle Pleistocene (the foundational period in human evolution), that everything of consequence in the experience of the evolving organism had a tactile dimension or profile. The other senses may have found, then as occasionally now, their bearings, and principal route to the production of emotion, through touch. This is hardly surprising: touch was, after all, the organism's sole direct contact with the world adjacent to its own body. For homo habilis and homo erectus the social behavior of 'grooming' was still largely a physical process, we may assume, not yet entirely replaced by language and its alienating strictures (and seemingly infinite capacity for deception), although it is a safe assumption that grooming took place increasingly in association with vocalizations of one kind or another. |
| The construction of an animated universe... Touch implied, first and foremost, a discursive interaction with the world and likely continued to carry that meaning for the evolutionary descendants of these early hominids. To touch an object was to imbue it with 'soul' (for want of a better word), to find a place for it in an animated universe. (German rühren, meaning to 'touch' or to 'move', produces the same message of empathetic contact in interaction with an explicitly emotive response on the part of the 'other'. Language seems not to have evolved similar dispensations for competing modes of stimulus and perception. In English, as in the formations of other languages which correspond to these, being seen, heard, smelled, tasted can be considered little more than passive variants of the active construction.) As I have stated, the distancing mechanisms of technology and its physical output found a parallel development at other levels of discourse, not the least of which was the area of linguistic communication where alienating structures came into being which undermined many of the old methods of direct social interaction. Altogether, the natural metaphors of human discourse were subverted and eventually replaced by arbitrary systems of symbolic communication which re-produced, at the level of the metaphysical, the alienating power and authority of the material culture. (Or, perhaps,`material culture began to reproduce, at the level of the tangible, the alienating power and authority of the spoken language. The precise sequence of the evolutionary events is hardly clear, although it should be obvious that the one worked either in tandem or in some kind of con-current social partnership with the other.) The centrality of touch... Meanwhile, the sense of touch appears to have acquired a special position in the consciousness of emerging homo sapiens sapiens. Indeed, the first traces of a durable material culture may well have presented themselves in partnership not with vision primarily, as one might initially suppose, but in striking association with the exploratory probing by human hands and fingers. (Even today the edge of a blade is honed to the exacting standard of the fingers, not the eye.) By the early Upper Paleolithic, small sculptures had begun to appear, the dimensions of which strongly suggest they were intended originally to be held in the hand, perhaps 'stroked'. (To derive solace or spiritual comfort, privately or publically, from the 'fondling' ['caressing', 'petting', 'rubbing'] of objects -- especially those believed to be 'inanimate' -- may raise the possibility of clinical (or even legal) remedy in the context of modern social expectations. This is a legacy of the extensive degradation the sense of touch has suffered in historical times. More on this interesting topic in a moment.)
My point, however, is that such objects, if they were indeed inspired by a 'need' of some sort for tactile gratification (individually or collectively, sensually or spiritually manifest), may be the late residue of a now vanished tradition, one involving wood sculpture, perhaps, which we discover, not surprisingly, is quite often a precursor to the working of stone; and that the sporadic recurrence, in the varied cultures of the Upper Paleolithic, of this particular mode of gratification likely points -- I believe it does so unambiguously -- to a time when 'direct contact' was still the principal means of 'connection' with the world, mythically endorsed and relatively unrestricted. The degradation of touch... But the experience of the world through direct touch would gradually lose status relative to other modes of 'knowing', especially vision of course, and would slip silently into a state of ignominy with the evolution of a highly elaborated inventory of specialized tools and the creation of new discursive arrangements by means of which all of nature would become a remote 'object' of human action and invention and, in the course of time, fundamentally degraded. Products of human 'vision' tended to challenge and eventually supplant most strictly tactile constructions of material reality. Touch, and direct reciprocal access to the essence (and feelings) of the 'other', would become now the special case, subject to severe limitations as to how and where the exercise of this ancient mode of discursive interaction was appropriate. The fear of return... It is evident that the manifold technical achievement of 'modern humans' reflects, in first order, not just the triumph of vision. It signifies a far-reaching transformation in human consciousness (which occurred at first independently of significant change in human physiology, though encephalization would eventually be retarded as a consequence). This visually inspired change in human perspective appears to provide the cognitive background for the 'cultural explosion' of the Upper Paleolithic (which is so on the minds of modern interpretive paleontologists). It does indeed encompass, in my estimation, the most intriguing sequence of transitional events in all human history and pre-history. The social conflict, aspects of which are sometimes termed (appropriately I believe) a 'culture war', now visible on a global scale to anyone who cares to look, has certain of its origins in this fundamental alteration of the landscape of the human mind, though the issues may not now be so clear, and precisely delineated, as they seem to have been in earlier times. Evidence from the historical period survives which provides a platform for viewing these distant events and capturing, through inference, some sense of their context. This difficult transitional moment in our cultural past -- the time-frame is approximately the millennia of the closing Pleistocene -- may be reviewed, by inference, in the content of certain documents of the historical period in which the struggle with this ancient conceptual material was still waged with intensity. Bronze Age paranoia clearly had its roots in a fear of 'reversion' to some previous state of mind. We used the Christian Bible earlier to illustrate this collective 'memory' of the past and shall do so again in the paragraphs which follow. The most dreaded among these elements of ancient (soon to be forbidden) meaning was the concept of direct contact with nature, in particular the 'nature' which lay outside the bounds of human community. The 'inappropriate touching' of something external to the domain of that which was deemed 'pure' and 'sacred' (or the 'touching' of something, sacred in itself, by the fingers of mortal humanity), appears to have been a crime punishable, in extreme circumstances, by exile, even death. ...the soul that shall touch any unclean thing, as the uncleaness of man, or any unclean beast, or any abominable unclean thing... even that soul shall be cut off from his people [emphasis added] (Leviticus 7:21). And thou shalt set bounds unto the people round about, saying, Take heed to yourselves, that ye go not up into the mount,(62) or touch the border of it: whosoever toucheth the mount shall be surely put to death... (Exodus 19:11-13) As a consequence of these and dozens of other petty (but similar) injunctions, direct contact, the principal means available to a pre-technological society to maintain 'discourse' with material nature, became so hobbled by rules of exclusion that little seemed to remain which could be 'touched' with impunity. In the Authorized Version of the Pentateuch the approximately fifty references to 'touching' consist nearly exclusively of strict prohibitions. The few which are positive and prescriptive are themselves probable reversions to Pagan practice: Seven days thou shalt make an atonement for the altar, and sanctify it; and it shall be an altar most holy: whatsoever toucheth the altar shall be holy (Exodus 29:36-38). Here, the individual is made 'holy' (or 'whole' in the Pagan sense of things) through touch. Christianity, to make its message more palatable to Pagans, would go out of its way to incorporate elements of pre-Judaic belief in the framing of its own revolutionary theology. In accordance with this practical objective, it would greatly emphasize the 'healing' effect of touch. ('To heal' is to make 'holy' or 'whole'. The three words are cognates, identical in their etymological origin in Common Germanic as in Indoeuropean [IE base *kailo-, meaning 'sound', 'uninjured'].) Thus, in the Authorized Version of the New Testament, references to 'touch' have mostly to do with its therapeutic effect. The word 'abominable', which occurs repeatedly in connection with Old Testament prohibitions, is particularly revealing in these translations from the Hebrew. Formed out of Medieval Latin ab homine, meaning 'unhuman' (or 'alienated from man'), the word came to designate the condition of nature outside the direct influence of the prophets. Feral nature posed a continuous threat to those 'chosen' by God. For 'to touch' that which was not specifically smiled on by the almighty was to indulge in the same kind of transgression which led to the 'fall'. Moreover, to 'touch' was to attempt 'joinder', to rouse an emotion in the other and to be roused to emotion in return! To 'touch' was to seek to expand the boundaries of the social 'self', an unpardonable infraction of Divine edict. In a remarkable collective demonstration of what neurologists call 'anasognosia', the boundaries of the collective consciousness were maximally retracted. Only the 'clean' and the 'sacred' were allowed entrance to the exclusive world of those chosen by God. All else was 'abominable', kept appropriately 'separate' from true human community and discourse. The sources of the Biblical obsession with three-dimensional images(63) may easily have been not so much the alleged inclination of Pagans to 'worship' objects in nature(64) but rather the ancient Pagan propensity to derive pleasure from their 'touch', a preference we ourselves surely relate to ambiguously, living, as we do, in a social environment which denigrates the senses but remains, on the other hand, saturated with sensory input (and implication). Patriarchal power continued, in all likelihood, to be agitated by the cultural memory of the 'Venus of Willendorf' and the function of such objects in a social milieu in which the concept of the 'female' seems to have been celebrated above other aspects of nature. In the society of the Old Testament direct experience was denied in favor of a quasi-symbolic representation of external reality. It is thus not surprising to discover that vision (and audition within strictly regulated bounds) was extolled while other senses, especially the tactile, were significantly demoted, the mytho-conceptual precondition for the emergence of the 'asceticism' we associate with Near Eastern (and ultimately medieval European) expressions of religiosity. In categorically enjoining the carving and engraving of images of 'nature', the prophets likely had in mind both the spiritual and sensual comfort Pagans derived from the digital probing of their irregular surfaces, the fingering of their explicit contours and interstices. Loose ends... Before we continue, a summary may be appropriate. The 'mind' of erectus (and its immediate forebears) sought to engage the world directly. Tools, to the limited extent they existed at all, were those hand-held instruments which posed the least threat to one's sense of experience as integrated, as a 'reality' undivided in space and time. There was little or no sense of the permanent because the past and future, as distinct categories, were only dimly recognized. The present moment was all-encompassing. To be sure, certain stone items managed to survive the passing of millennia. However, this was not the intent of their producers but merely the property of the material itself, selected for its hardness. In the beginning, at least, stone tools were ad hoc products, like the brush rakes and fence stretchers of my neighbors in Central America, not carried around much from place to place but used in situ (see plates Va and b below).
The world from within... The idea, additionally, that our hominid forebears moved through their natural milieu with a sense of the whole as illuminated, intact and somehow sacrosanct, helps to explain certain aspects of their culture which may appear otherwise defective (or puzzling). There is no reason to believe that homo erectus, our more immediate human forebear, had a sense at all of community as specifically constituted, as something existing apart from the 'rest of nature'. Cognitive mechanisms may not have existed for perceiving the environment as an objective reality. The internal perspective likely took in the social reality external to human interactions. Boundaries moderns accept as givens may have been substantially obscured for these great-grandparents of humankind. Their interaction with 'nature' may have taken place within a discursive framework which was all-encompassing. I have little doubt that a major constraint on technical development (or 'progress') was, for these culturally nearly invisible precursors of modern humanity, the sense of the whole as inviolate. Animist residue in languages and cultures of the historical period suggests that a sense of 'human community' as indivisible was once foundational in human experience. Such a perception, if deeply rooted, would have hampered the cultural output we associate with the 'analytic ingenuity' of modern humans. Nor was the collective expression of this principle yet compromised by the factionalism and enmity which would characterize social relations of a later period, that is, with the ascendance of tribalism, in particular, and other natural consequences of the 'myth of separation' which would receive elaborate cultural affirmation. The simple lack of 'hafting', in the manufacture of tools, can be seen as an inability to perform the division of the world which is necessarily preliminary to any conjunctive re-arrangement of its parts; especially if the procedure entailed (what may have been perceived as) a 'joinder' of unusual categories: stone and wood, for example, or stone and antler which, though eminently practical from a modern viewpoint, were unfamiliar combinations in 'nature'. The one category consisted (likely) of 'animated entities', while the other (possibly) did not. I do not know. Numerous vestiges of such a conceptual division exist in languages spoken today. |
| Animals in pieces... A view which placed specific limits on the ways in which nature allowed itself to be divided (and reassembled) may explain the inability of these human ancestors to see animal parts as potential materials for the making of tools. It does seem remarkable that portions of the bodies of animals served no utilitarian purpose until very late in the Upper Paleolithic. These were individuals who were well equipped, interpretive archaeology tells us, to dissect dead animals for human consumption. One must assume that they could have salvaged certain pieces of the same animals which, though not exactly suitable for human ingestion, should have been seen as potentially valuable for use in tool making (if 'tools' were indeed on their minds). The fact that artifacts of bone, ivory, and antler are nowhere in evidence in the archaeological residue leads one to assume, as a logical inference, that skins (and probably feathers as well) were avoided for practical or decorative uses; and that the reason for this rather sweeping resistance to a seemingly obvious set of potential 'benefits' lay in the special status which animated life-forms occupied in the collective imagination. (Here we return to the division alluded to in the foregoing.) It may not have been possible, given the scope and latitude of their special cognitive endowment, for these individuals to grasp the animated products of nature, living or dead, as 'collections of parts', as material to be dissected, disarticulated, and ultimately exploited for utilitarian purposes. Note that at this stage of cultural development it is still possible to account for such an egregious 'omission', and to shed light on its intriguing metaphysical origins, without appealing to religious sentiment and certitudes. The vestige of an ancient injunction... In point of fact, such a state of affairs should not be hard for the most practically minded of moderns to envision. Traces of an underlying tabu (a prohibition of the dissection of the bodies of organisms once animated) appear to have survived in the consciousness of modern humans. In ancient arctic belief the skeletal structure of the human being is the indispensable link to the afterlife and must, as such, be kept intact if the soul is to survive its earthly existence. Closer to home, we shrink in horror from images of dismembered human body parts: severed fingers, hands, heads, feet, tongues, and so forth. Yet many of us have no similar sense of the whole as 'inviolate' where non-human creatures are concerned. We fasten pieces of dead animals to the walls of our living rooms, while their teeth, or limb portions, dangle from key-chains and other accessories. Humans wear leather without giving it a second thought, yet the use of human hide, for any purpose at all, is almost universally considered to be deplorable. We use wool fabrics to clothe our bodies -- yet we have difficulty suppressing a shudder, many of us, when we witness (or even contemplate) the artifactual application of human hair. (On one or two occasions I have seen textiles and wall ornaments woven from human hair. We examine these objects and wince. An aura of the macabre attends such exhibitions. To be sure, natural appearing wigs, made of the same material, have been skillfully produced for centuries. The illusion appears to make the difference. What surface circumstances prevent us from 'knowing' seems not to hurt us.) I believe there is a lesson in these apparent contradictions, if we can get past the mere notion that the dismemberment of the body is horrifying, or horrifying merely when it affects our 'own kind'. Or -- this would be the felicitous (and far more productive) possibility -- if we can devise the subjective framework in which 'our own kind' is but a sub-category of a larger class of animated entities (and accorded, as such, no extraordinary mytho-conceptual dispensations). Such a way of viewing the world should not be terribly difficult for those living today to imagine. It has been implicit, after all, in the objective classifications of biology since the emergence of the romantic sciences in the eighteenth century. The human forebears in question likely shrank from the disjoinder and artifactual utilization of the bodies of adjacent organisms out of the same sources of dread and compunction which constrain the use of human cadavers by moderns. The practical difference between the two forms of experience lies, of course, not in the formulation of the constraint itself but in the reduced size of the field in which it is seen to apply. For 'moderns', simply, the discursive boundaries of experience have been greatly retracted. As a consequence of the simplification of social relationship, which characterized the emergence of the folks believed to be biologically 'modern' specimens (but who comprised, as we shall discover shortly, merely the vanguard of the new Culture of the Open), the course of a remarkable adaptive experiment appears to have been abruptly reversed... and the capacity of the evolving organism to interact with nature as a whole was substantially compromised. The world became suddenly smaller and much less complexly structured. Meat eating... Eating the flesh of an animal would not, I suggest, have necessarily subjected the 'user' to the same prohibition. Such an act arises, after all, from a rather different set of mythic assumptions. First, the ingestion of meat is about as direct a process of utilization as one can imagine and was typically accomplished, besides, with little or no intermediate assistance, thus surviving the first test of suitability in the use of nature. (Forks replaced fingers only in the eighteenth century.) But more to the point, to incorporate the living and animate world lying adjacent to one's own being, was to assimilate the very basis of the transfer of feeling from one organism to another,(65) to discover the material analogue of 'discourse in nature' (the adaptive secret of advanced primates). To ingest a portion of the external world was to rouse conceptual responses which were unique to the act, feelings which contrasted sharply with images produced in association with every other human (or pre-human) use of the natural environment. The eating of meat, the devouring of the tissue of a creature adjacent to oneself, has been traditionally imbued with powerful notions of transformation. It is thus not surprising to see eating collectively and often ritually performed. Eating and drinking are, of course, life-giving at a fundamental level of the organism's awareness; and their meaning, in the experience of mammals in particular, reveals a primitive discursive dimension which should not be overlooked. Meat and Professor Aiello... I would be neglectful, however, if I failed to mention that the eating of meat by our evolutionary forebears has been accorded a significance far beyond what the data appear to support. Despite the strong likelihood that the stone hand-axes and scrapers of homo erectus and its predecessors were multi-purpose instruments and that meat was a marginally important element in their diet (if even that)(66), the myth of meat-eating and its enabling technology dies hard. Christopher Stringer and Robin McKie, in strict observance (by the way) of the important precept of singular causation, go so far as to report that meat is where it all started. ...the use of tools to obtain meat opened up an entire new ecological niche for humans. For the first time, technology allowed humans to manipulate the environment [emphasis added](African Exodus, p. 34). So here we have it: meat, and the means to cut it into appropriate pieces for transport (or use on the spot), comprise the matrix from which everything of value in human experience is seen to emerge, including our larger brain it would seem. This is yet another illustration of what this chapter heading calls the 'myth of simple cause'. And, indeed, even Professor Aiello (who elsewhere has deplored the fact that 'nothing happens' of cultural and biological significance during this immense period in question) can not now seem to make enough of the idea that a direct relation exists between meat-eating (and the use of the hand-ax, you will note, which now appears to have evolved a distinctly specialized function despite all evidence to the contrary) and the astonishingly rapid increase in human encephalization: It was not just meat, but fat and bone-marrow that were being consumed, easy-to-digest foods that permitted the development of smaller stomachs which used up less internal energy... The surplus was used to feed our brains, which began to grow significantly at this time [emphasis added]. It was a loop. We started to eat meat, got smarter, and thought of cleverer ways to obtain more meat... (quoted in African Exodus, p. 35).(67) Aiello does add, as an awkward afterthought, that "...learning to obtain other rich, but easily digestible foods, such as nuts, was probably also involved [emphasis added]." However, this caveat is lost in the flourish of claims about the effects of meat-eating on the hominid anatomy; although, in fact, the substance of her weak disclaimer may hold a key to what actually transpired in the body (and mind) of the evolving organism. It seems difficult for evolutionary science to discuss the human record without reference to events which are supposedly singular and primal. Note in the above that the hand-axe is the 'single factor' responsible for transforming the food habits of our human forebears (and human anatomy itself). It allowed them to hack their way through the tissue of dead animals they found on the 'savanna'. (In the preferences of the Culture of the Open the 'savanna', not mentioned in the above quotes, provides the inspirational backdrop for all early human action.) |
| As a matter of fact, science provides no good evidence of the chain of causality indicated in the above. The best picture we can obtain of human food use during this formative period directly contradicts scenarios in which a hard-pressed humanity sought and discovered 'simple solutions' to basic needs. The available evidence points, on the contrary, to increasing nutritional diversity, the incorporation of foods of all types in the human diet, a development in which the flesh of other animals was one among many dietary innovations (and almost certainly not universally adopted). It is likely, in a very general sense, that a widening of the food base took place in the course of the period in question. This trend abated, it seems, only with the appearance of the anatomically modern human being -- more precisely, with the advent of farming and its trenchantly simplifying effects on human diet. Meanwhile, the dramatic increase in encephalization in homo erectus (which Aiello seems inclined both to deny and to accept) probably reflects a generally increasing complexity of experience in which food acquisition and use was hardly the exceptional factor. Even when human communities were becoming settled, and the stage was being set for the first exploratory ventures into agriculture, foragers continued to display an astonishing knowledge of plant materials and their potentially useful properties. Archaeologists have studied the charred remains of vegetable material from sites occupied by hunters-and-gatherers at the close of the Pleistocene and discovered a diversity of plant types which puts the offerings of the modern super-market to shame. In addressing the question of whether ancient hunter-gatherers put an extensive biological knowledge to use in their gathering and consumption of food, Jared Diamond nicely summarizes the affirmative findings of one group of scientists. He describes research conducted at a ...site at the edge of the Euphrates Valley in Syria, called Tell Abu Hureyra. Between 10,000 and 9000 B.C. the people living there may already have been residing year-round in villages, but they were still hunter- gatherers; crop cultivation began only in the succeeding millenium. The archaeologists Gordon Hillman, Susan Colledge, and David Harris retrieved large quantities of charred plant remains from the site, probably representing discarded garbage of wild plants gathered elsewhere and brought to the site by its residents. The scientists analyzed over 700 samples, each containing an average of over 500 identifiable seeds belonging to over 70 plant species. It turned out that the villagers were collecting a prodigious variety (157 species!) of plants identified by their charred seeds, not to mention other plants that cannot now be identified.(68) [Note that the investigators identified the foraged materials by their seeds. Necessarily excluded from their listing of the plant types used for food purposes were those the foragers utilized for their roots and/or their foliage. My guess is that the number of such plants would, at least, equal the number of plants used for their seeds. KM.] An obstacle, in the beginning, to food production was likely the tendency of foragers to mistrust the dietary restrictions which agriculture entailed necessarily. For farming to make significant inroads into the culture of hunters-and-gatherers a combination of ordinary and extraordinary circumstances had first to present itself: external conditions (probably the result of drastic environmental and/or demographic changes) had to be present which (1) no longer favored the lifestyle of the forager and (2) which afforded, at the same time, a sufficient number of wild plants which were suitable for cultivation (as Jared Diamond points out again and again); but there was (3) the 'mythic' factor in inevitable attendance (which Diamond does not mention): these folks had, first, to embrace a world-view in which the 'complex dispensation' was shunned in the routine management of life's exigencies. Before committing him/herself fully to farming as a means of livelihood, the forager had to give in to a construction of the world in which 'simplicity' in diet and all the other essentials of existence was the favored alternative. This virtue of the new Mythology of the Open was not easily assimilated, since the risks would have been obvious to the unconverted. We may assume that the transition was arduous in the typical instance. It sometimes happened that foraging was revived, having once been rejected. Jared Diamond writes that ...around 3000 B.C. the hunter-gatherers of southern Sweden adopted farming based on Southwest Asian crops, but abandoned it around 2700 B.C. and reverted to hunting-gathering for 400 years before resuming farming" (Ibid, p. 109). The 'mixed system'... There was obviously much back and forth as well as various long-term socio-economic accommodations in which the two modes of subsistence were not exactly in competition with each other but existed rather in a complementary relationship. Mixed systems of this kind, though probably commonplace in human history and cultural evolution, have been all but ignored by the traditional disciplines which tend to see the issue as either one thing or the other. Until very recently, few rural communities in the part of the world where I grew up were exclusively agricultural in the provisioning of basic staples. The economy of our own household was an old-fashioned foraging enterprise to an extent which continues to amaze me in retrospect. Though significantly dependent upon agricultural production for basic commodities, we were not farmers. We lived off the shores of Green Bay where members of our family fished year-round to provide the extra protein we could not afford to obtain from commercial suppliers of meat. (This was just before and after the middle of the last century, in the aftermath of the Great Depression from which our family was recovering slowly.) As a group (which included extended family and assorted others as well as my parents and siblings), we spent many of the long days of the northern summer roaming the unoccupied environs outside town in search of wild berries. This place was the scene of an environmental catastrophe which, though still much on our minds, had taken place seventy years earlier. I refer to a fire which tore through our area on a particular day in the fall of 1871, ravaging forests and many towns in Northeastern Wisconsin, isolating and destroying their defenseless populations.(69) The physical legacy of this terrible event, the details of which were familiar even to the children of the community, was a broad vista of nearly barren sand-dunes interspersed with an equal amount of brush and emerging second growth woodland. But the area was undivided in those days by fences, a forager's dream. The entire world at the outskirts of town was a berry patch, a place of 'recovery' (in multiple senses of the word) where every fruit producing ground cover had its season. Earliest were the tiny strawberries, which crept discreetly on the sandy ground (but which no present cultivated variety can hope to match in savor), followed, in June and July, by raspberries, then blueberries in early August and blackberries still later, which we put into jars and enjoyed at nearly every dinner and supper in the late fall and winter. If my reconstruction of these events is to be trusted, hundreds of quart and pint 'Mason' jars decorated the walls of our fruit cellar in Marinette. These distinctive containers, some clear, some green-tinted, were filled with the bright memories of summer and sparkled like precious jewels on shelves deeply bowed from the weight of the harvest. (Our fruit storage facility was not a separate building, as was common on rural homesteads elsewhere in the country, but located in the basement of our house.) I guess my point is that the cultural boundary between foraging and reliance on agriculture was typically cross-structured, rarely clear-cut. (Not, at least, until the emergence of the Culture of the Open in its most blatant presentations.) For those who resisted the gross 'simplification' of diet and lifestyle, which agriculture necessarily entailed if practiced exclusively, there was always marginal foraging -- i.e. some gathering of wild plants combined with hunting and fishing of a limited sort -- not necessarily the 'perfect solution' in itself but certainly a useful complementary option at times when agricultural production was in crisis. Mixed systems of this kind, weighted to the one end or the other in the range of practical possibilities, were feasible, it goes without saying, only if 'wild nature' was accessible and not already damaged beyond hope of human utilization. (The relative 'accessibility' of the wider environment is a key factor in explaining gross regional discrepancies in the progress of agriculture as an exclusive life-style. Where forests were deemed off-limits to large segments of the population, foraging disappeared altogether as a practical option.) The Culture of Closure... I have jumped forward to review a certain inevitable outcome of events which were set in motion in the Middle to Upper Paleolithic. In the picture I have put together of the earliest period, one branch (at least) of developing humanity continued on the course of the geographic expansion initiated by homo habilis and homo erectus, remaining close to sea-shores and wooded river valleys, which appears to have been their ancestral home of preference. This, I would propose, is the cultural matrix of modern humanity, the place in the heart and mind where we grew to maturity. It derived its principal mytho-conceptual substance from the closed environment of the forest in, let us assume further, some kind of ambiguous relation to a sporadically occurring savanna and, eventually, the sea (which our forebears soon learned to negotiate in some practical fashion, if only in its proximal relation to a forested shoreline). (The deliberate cultivation of plants, which would ensue much later, was clearly not the result of a single insight by a single individual. It took place so gradually, probably by chance, at first [as an incidental byproduct of the gathering of plant materials], that the individuals and communities actually involved in the process would have been as much at a loss to pinpoint its 'beginnings' as those who study this major transitional phase in human cultural evolution.) The world was complexly if still rather darkly assembled, a mytho-conceptual vestige of an ancient biological preference which the developing organism continued (conditionally) to affirm. The forest continued to be the stable 'mother' and 'matter' of human existence (English cognates from the common IE root *matér), a locus of protective vantage from which all of nature was constructed and validated. The forest was the physical setting for the 'interior perspective', now largely lost to human awareness. Animal husbandry was not yet practiced, though human community had likely entered, by this early date, into close domestic relationship with many animals of the forest: certainly pigs, dogs, and probably snakes, all despised by the culture which followed, a matter of immense relevance when it comes to reconstructing the mind-set of those on the far side of this mythic divide.(70) The rising levels of the oceans, at the close of the Pleistocene, has obliterated most traces of their domestic lives. Lost forever is the mundane routine of these accomplished foragers who lived out their existence on the boundary of land and water; who managed the complexities of life against two extensively overlapping physical backdrops which, though conceptually distinct, were ambiguously interconnected through the penetration of the former by the latter (and the latter by the former) -- through the sharing, moreover, of significant additional elements of associated meaning which tended to erase strict divisions of the kind these categories may bring to the altered perception of moderns: the environment of the forest and the inlet, both closed and ultimately protecting (features which were probably immensely affirmed in the mythic perspective of that bygone age), in contrast to the reaches of the savannah and the sea, both open and exposing (and conditionally threatening one might reasonably suppose). This 'cross-structuring' of meaning, i.e. the capacity to capture the universe through some mix of conditional preferences, was precisely the factor which blocked the formation of rigid category in human awareness, preventing the fixed alignment with value which would eventually subvert both mind and culture (as I hope to demonstrate in later portions of this chapter). One surmises, on the basis of modern linguistic distributions, that the sky was not yet the focus of natural experience but its peripheral limit, physically defined. (Spanish alto designates 'height' as well as 'ultimate limit'. Spanish cielo is cognate with English ceiling as English sky is cognate with both hide and cutis, a borrowing from Latin. Germanic-English heaven appears similarly derived, from the Indoeuropean base kem, meaning 'to cover' [cf. Spanish cognate noun camiso]. The earth was something like a container [viewed from within], the sky a physical 'cover' [viewed from below]. See the concluding pages of Part Two: Chapter Six of this writing which reviews, on the basis of additional comparative linguistic information and deduction, this early stage in the human conceptualization of the earth and its relation to the heavens above.) The rising Culture of the Open... But there was a second sequence of socio-cultural developments, harmless offshoots (initially) of the first, which seem to have run parallel to the parent structures for some length of time... But these would turn hostile, eventually, and seek to replace the older cultural formations altogether. The unforested sub-glacial interior of Eurasia would provide the landscape for a momentous change in consciousness, for a striking modification of the cognitive framework of human perception. The pursuit and killing of ungulates (and ultimately their herding and selective breeding) became the focus of a new system of values in which enclosure and the complexity of life in the 'abandoned forest' became extensively devalued and ultimately rejected. The context of this new 'construction of the world' was the phenomenon I have referred to in this writing as the Culture of the Open. The focus of the new mythology was the movement of the sun in the day-time sky which became now an opening to the infinite. (It is possible that the cultural cleavage of which I speak was gender-based in the 'beginning', a simple 'division of labor' carried to a physical extreme. Increased human mobility, together with the evolution of hunting as a male activity exclusively, may have created seasonal separations of the sexes over wide distances. These may, in turn, have fostered the formation of entirely separate [and ultimately competing] systems of value. The rising Culture of the Open has all the earmarks of such an 'alien social structure' and may represent the ultimate triumph of an exclusive male-centered mythology which evolved in adjacency to older, laterally organized forms of discourse. Indications that such was the case are numerous and various, the most salient of which is the fact that the new culture has been/is strictly patriarchal in significant aspects of its social organization. Moreover, the mythology of the Culture of the Open has consistently promoted virtues rooted in male functions exclusively and in doctrines of male-supremacy, structures which would not likely have evolved in an extensively integrated social environment. (Although it may seem bizarre that the sexes would evolve separately for a significant portion of the year, such a division of the reproducing population is, in fact, not unfamiliar in historical times. In the first millennium of the Christian era, the vikings, a culture composed exclusively of sea-roving males, evolved their own distinctive mythology in the virtual absence of contact with their core communities [which remained female centered into the era of the Christianization of Northern Europe]. In the rural Finland of bygone centuries, many males found themselves away from home six months of the year [!], fishing, hunting, trapping, etc. The famous myth of the 'Arctic Bear', which the Finnish Kalevala records with great relish, may have had its practical origin in a social milieu composed of men and older boys.) In the Culture of the Open we witness a dramatic simplification of human awareness. In the imagination of virtue the 'individual' began to displace the 'collective'. Systems of social hierarchy commenced to erode the complex lateral relations of human community. Diet underwent significant modification with animal flesh emerging as a central component. And, to be sure, language 'as we know it' made its appearance in conjunction with the symbolic representation of human experience. For it happens that the discourse, of which we can now confidently begin to speak, was extensively symbol-dependent. 'Symbol' and metaphor... This may be as good a place as any to reflect on the meaning of 'symbol', a concept which, though indispensable to clarification of the collective action in which these early folks were engaged, remains illusive to inquiry. In fact, the confusion of 'symbol' and 'metaphor' is among the humbugs which most hamper our understanding of natural process, which tend most to obscure the nature and cognitive 'origins' of modern human culture. The fogging of the borders of these two discursive domains seems almost deliberately brought about, symbol being, in the historical period at least, so much the scourge of metaphor and seemingly so brazen in the pursuit of its own (often nefarious) objective. Symbol is arbitrary and simplistic in the articulation of its assigned meaning, the shape of which appears to be instantly alterable according to human will and expediency. Additionally, political (and later commercial) propaganda would see practical advantage in the symbolic ordering of social relations. The use of symbols was uniquely suited to the manipulative program of the culture we call 'modern'. Symbol was artifact, entirely the product of human invention. But before symbol there was metaphor which sprang from the natural associative process of animal mentation and the organism's collective understanding of the 'real world'. Metaphor -- i.e. the process of connecting disparate objects and actions through the re-cognition of shared features -- appears to form the basis of learning in the mammalian mind. Arising from the deepest recesses of the organism's biology -- i.e., from the 'meaning' of its evolutionary experience in toto -- metaphor would attain extraordinary functional power and breadth in human reasoning and creative endeavors.
The worst and the best... Yet, regardless of the perspective it adopts in the particular moment of inquiry, science persists in seeing all evidence of advanced human cognition -- the emergence of 'art' (and 'science') in particular -- in strict association with the creation of 'symbols', as though the emergence of the former had its sole explanation against the cognitive background provided by the latter. Indeed, in a sense too important to overlook, the one does appear to give rise to the other... But we immediately discover that appearances are misleading, that the inferred relation is far from simple. To be sure, we discover that symbols are regularly employed as special isolating elements in the organization of advanced mental process, creative expression especially. But the association is typically obligatory, either because the subject of the venture comes heavily freighted with symbolic content (as in advertizing and much 'religious art' which seems notably burdened with 'symbolically' transmitted elements of meaning); or because the medium itself, e.g. poetry and the other language-based instruments (by which the organism seeks to reveal, to others, what may be called its 'inner state'), is symbolically constituted in large part. |
| A broken horizon... Nonetheless, we discover that a discursive authenticity sometimes results despite the worst intentions of the system. 'Metaphor' appears to be established in the very midst of 'symbols' and their alienating pressures. To help explain this seemingly paradoxical state of affairs, I offer the following observations. Poetry makes use of 'words'. And words, though 'originally' the output of complex sets of emotive impulses, have come, through the erosive effects of selection and conceptual simplification, to establish 'one-to-one relations' between objects (or events) and their meanings; or they strive, at least, to bring such relations about. (We remind the reader that conceptual confusion is a pejorative in the values of the prevailing discourse.) If poetry is to accomplish anything at all, it must attempt, with the uneven assistance of these 'words', these defective fragments of signification (which Faust wisely rejected as the prime material of Creation), to reach back to an 'earlier time', a time 'when language was new', as Gertrude Stein used to say. The task of the poet seems obvious enough: to question the symbolic properties of language, to challenge the simple relation which these properties set forth (and affirm) between object and referent. At his and her best, the artist-poet is at war with symbols and the collective discourse in which symbols appear imbedded. This is the only sense, I believe, in which the act of 'creation' is 'destructive'. (Music, by the way, has not confronted, traditionally, the same problem. In itself, music appears deficient in its meager capacity to represent the world symbolically. Music appears to take up residence in the realm of the 'universal sign', where it prefers either a solitary existence or, more usually, an association with dance, a form of expression which succeeds in avoiding, in its unadulterated state, the most blatant forms of symbolic reduction. The language of music -- i.e. rhythm in association with 'rising' and 'falling' intonation -- is 'pure metaphor', an acoustic reprresentation of essential animal responses. (Nonetheless, music faces obstacles which are extrinsic to the medium. Dramatic applications, opera and traditional music for the dance, have sought to break down its natural resistance to 'symbolization'. In line with this historic objective, nineteenth century composer Richard Wagner introduced a symbolic marking device, the so-called 'leitmotif', which had an explicitly 'narrative' purpose. Wagner intended this device to 'lead' the audience to establish connection with a specific character or dramatic situation.(71) Late nineteenth century 'program music', and music for the ballet and later the film, would attempt [with uneven success] to achieve the same effect by similar means.) The healing of division... Metaphor draws on some aspect of the universal re-cognition, whereas symbols are arbitrary by definition. Metaphor transcends the boundaries of convention and is, in an important sense, 'timeless'. This fact helps to explain why the 'art' of the Upper Paleolithic continues to awe the human sensibility, though the details of its social context may remain obscure. (The images we perceive at Chauvet and Lascaux are not dead echoes of isolated, now forgotten fragments of meaning. On the contrary, the walls and roofs of these famous caves reverberate with living metaphor, with memories we continue to share with our Paleolithic antecedents. Metaphor is invariably assimilative, while symbols are conceptually and socially exclusive.) Metaphor seeks to heal (i.e. 'make whole') the social divisions which myth and its 'symbolic' representations have created. It attempts to re-animate areas of lost meaning in the communicative fabric of human existence. Metaphor seeks connection among parts, while symbol separates the 'part' from the 'whole'. 'Metaphor' discovers the general in the particular, whereas 'symbol' extracts the particular from the general occurrence. In their socio-cultural meaning, the two approaches to the construction of the world could hardly be less alike. One is analytic, the other unabashedly synthetic. An expression of alarm... In some sense the historical objectives of 'art' and 'metaphor' are commensurate. The very need for poetry and the visual arts may be a sign of deprivation in the discursive vocabulary of a culture. The wide-spread use of symbols for narrow communicative purposes -- as in commercial hype, for example, and in the cheap promotion of the virtues of the prevailing socio-political system (and in harangues against its much advertised 'evils') -- has had the singular effect of thwarting any serious alternative discursive impulse. Specifically, it has discouraged any mode of expression which is broadly integrating. Thus, in a discursive sense, the worst appears implicit in the best. 'Art' -- as we know it -- may be an expression of alarm at the fracturing of experience in the collective domain. Symbol and its literalization... However, this is not to ignore (or diminish) the fact that symbols often have their beginnings in metaphor. Pictographs, which are believed to precede the austere and lonely 'symbols' of the alphabet, are visual metaphors first and foremost. We may assume that red wine enjoyed 'originally' a complex metaphoric relation to animal body fluids becoming, only much later, a specific 'symbol-metaphor' for blood (much later still an exclusively symbolic representation of the blood of the sacrificial lamb(72) with the specific meanings this entails in Christian doctrine). In the emergence of symbol there is, typically, a progressive narrowing of the conceptual domain... followed often, at a much later cultural-evolutionary stage, by its literalization, i.e. by the apparent collapse of residual 'distinctions' between the two categories, the only basis for rudimentary metaphor, and the subsequent creation of a formal identity, or 'one-to-one relationship', in which the web of natural affiliation is torn away entirely. For practical purposes the sculptured image of the animal of prey becomes that animal -- the eucharist becomes the flesh and blood of Christ. To be sure, accompanying such a process of symbolic reduction is a prodigious (if increasingly restricted) assortment of abstract images or values. For Nazi propagandists, the 'Hakenkreuz', or 'hooked cross', was an exclusive (and eminently simplifying) symbol of Aryan superiority. With the emergence to power of National Socialism (on the shambles of the Weimar Republic) the very surface on which the symbol was emblazoned became sacrosanct and inviolable. People were jailed and even killed for the abuse of the 'flag'. However, for the ancients the 'swastika'(73) was a quaternary representation (significant in itself(74)) of articulated movement, a kind of 'archetype' in the collective consciousness of bi-pedal humans, probably intelligible to all.(75)
Red ocher: Symbol or metaphor? The adverse consequences of the confusion of 'symbol' and 'metaphor' are inevitably apparent in attempts by science to locate the 'first signs' of the cognitive behavior patterns considered to be 'truly human', i.e. those exhibited by humans alone among species of animals. Investigators examine the material record of developing humanity, hoping to find the beginnings of 'symbolic thought'. Science reaches into the remote experience of homo erectus, for example, and detects, in the physical residue of human burial practice, what it takes to be a 'symbolic' use of red ocher. This substance, we remind the reader, is a type of clay which is naturally pigmented with iron oxide which gives it a striking red appearance. Found at human sites dated, by reason of their geological associations, to around a quarter-of-a-million years before the present, not much can be said to predate this strictly cultural application of objects of nature. Red ocher, we are informed, was the tangible representation of a special quality or condition, a symbol of 'life', one supposes (in the typical scholarly reconstruction of the behavior), in the context of 'death'. There is a kernel of truth in explicit claims such as these. But the confusion of 'symbol' and 'metaphor' (1) obscures the nature of the adaptive-discursive process in which the evolving organism was engaged and (2) prevents the proper identification of the social pathogen which would one day weaken and ultimately reverse the effects of this notably successful adaptive strategy in human evolution. I would argue that red ocher was not, in early human perceptions, a 'symbol' of any single thing. The use of this intriguing substance, whatever its precise social context (and the numerous psycho-neurological implications thereof), evoked a cluster of imaginal connections in which 'life' was but a single, if undeniably important (perhaps even central) conceptual element. I would argue that the presence of red ocher in the archaeological residue of human activity reveals an awareness, in the 'mind' of the prodigiously developing organism, of a certain crucial set of relationships -- conceptual affiliations which were fundamental to its collective sense of being. Experience was embodied for these people (as it continues to be for us today) in an array of interrelated associations which spanned the spectrum of individual perception and feeling. These elements of meaning must have had to do (1) with the clay material itself and its behavioral properties and (2) its origin in the earth's mantel, areas of immense relevance with respect to the developing capacity of the species to see the general in the specific occurrence. I have in mind the plastic character of the substance when combined with water, the other natural category (along with fire and air eventually) which did most to animate the early human imagination. Clay (i.e. the solid earth beneath one's feet) and water (nature's 'cleansing agent' and primary solvent) produced, in appropriate mixtures, not only the paste which could be used for body painting (and likely other decorative purposes), but the malleable substance believed, by more than one group of modern humans (and probably homo erectus as well), to represent the very material from which life was fashioned. Red ocher mixed with water was among the most mysterious of the earth's compounds and appears to have captured the early human imagination like no other naturally occurring material. Finally, its remarkable color -- the color red -- believed to be the most prominent color in human perception and probably associated intimately, in the minds of early humans (if not in our own), with biological process. (Investigation has demonstrated that, in the normal individual, red is the first [and possibly the last] color of the spectrum to present itself.) The pigmented clay was, in certain important respects, analogous to life-process in animals in particular, mimicking both the color of the fluid, which energized the body of the mobile creature, as well as the fire which appears to have warmed its spirit. The secondary association, i.e. the analogy of blood to physical combustion, tends to be overlooked by modern investigators. The 'symbols', which inquiry places at the center of advanced thought process in humans, seek their referent typically in abstractions (and advanced cognition, we are asked to believe, is nothing if not the capacity to manipulate abstractions). Metaphor, by contrast, is rooted in the senses and the physical universe. It is, first and foremost, an acknowledged system of perceived material relationships. Metaphor sees physical objects as points of connection in an open-ended system of lateral correspondence. (To be sure, these trigger, individually and together, a broad array of associated feelings. The 'physical' and the 'metaphysical' -- typically denied in the conventional view of the 'objective sciences' -- are hereby joined.) In other words, Blood, clay, fire, dawns and sunsets,(76) the tiny center of the fertilized egg(77), etc., became mytho-conceptually fused (in the consciousness of early humans): first to each other, by reason of their shared membership in the inclusive category red, here imperfectly delineated (as such categories inevitably are), and then to their affective associations and imaginal configurations, in whatever form these complex structures were 'originally' manifest... But whatever its precise mytho-conceptual reach, there can be no doubt that red was a powerful organizational feature in early human cognition, though it was only one of the features which are distinctive to the cluster of images in question. The utilitarian fallacy... But it happens that the use of red ocher reveals, as well, an important early stage in human technical development. Here we see myth and technology in fluid interaction. Experimentation with clay and water, in various effective proportions and with various unknown objectives in view, would continue for several hundred thousand years before the time when the actual firing of ceramic objects becomes evident in the archaeological record, an event conventional wisdom tends to associate (incorrectly as it turns out) with the so-called Neolithic and the emergence of clay vessels. (In metaphoric reconstruction the specific often recalls the general. The 'micro-level' of the discursive enterprise reflects the 'macro-level' of the collective awareness. In this case the earth and the sea, the physical context of human community itself, are recaptured metaphorically in the mixing of clay and water.) In fact, the first ceramic items (in which the afore-named elements were brought into seemingly permanent material association) had no 'practical value', if by this we mean their relative contribution to the maintenance of the organism's 'physical state'. The first kiln-fired objects appear to have been the human and animal images we discussed previously, small figurines, the main purpose of which may have been to provide a tactile prompt to the imagination. (The development of metallurgy would proceed along a similar mytho-conceptual trajectory, the first metal objects being small pieces of sculpture -- images from nature for the most part -- not 'practical items' such as weapons or tools.) However, in the narrow view of the modern ethnologist the long period of experimentation with clay and water -- from the first uses of red ocher to the sophisticated ceramics of the Upper Paleolithic -- was but preliminary to the cultural-evolutionary event which seems to be uppermost on the agenda of the human sciences. What really matters, in the final assessment of these disciplines, is the invention of pottery with its diverse 'practical' uses and functions. In other words, the outlook of the modern sciences is utilitarian in the same sense in which the human culture we see emerging at the end of the Paleolithic is presumed to have been utilitarian. It is interesting that the values of these two groups of biologically similar individuals -- the investigators and those investigated -- may indeed be identical in this case. That is, they may spring from a shared set of mythic assumptions. According to the constraints which inform both the modern perception and its ancient precursor the organism's 'needs' are reduced to a functional minimum. They consist, namely, of those cultural-biological conditions which serve the immediate maintenance of the 'physical system' as an objectively intelligible mechanical operation. The notion of a 'practical technology' pushes all other needs and use-functions to the periphery of the scientific evaluation. The experiential event, formerly integrated and laterally extensive in its meaning, is redefined in accordance with the conceptually overriding (and notably simple-minded) notion of its 'practical benefit' to the functioning organism. Soffer et al... Owing to the mythic bias alluded to in the above paragraphs, the ceramic production of the Upper Paleolithic has received little study. A striking exception is the path-breaking research of anthropologists Olga Soffer and associates who, over many years, have devoted their attention to kiln-fired clay objects unearthed at sites in Czechoslovakia (Dolni Vestonice and elsewhere) which were occupied between 28,000 and 24,000 years B.P., at least 14,000 years before the appearance of the earliest pottery vessels.(78) Out of more than ...10,000 Moravian ceramic fragments, only some small pellets and one figurine, a wolverine from Predmosti measuring 3.4 mm long, are unbroken. Of 887 fragments from the domed kiln area of Dolni Vestonice I, 461 (52%) were observed to have rough, branching, and stepped surfaces when studied with optical light microscopy... These rough, branching fractures are not the result of local heterogeneities in composition or particle size. Many internal cracks in the rough fracture surfaces end at right angles to the surfaces, and many have opened such that the parts no longer fit together, indicative of drying or firing cracks. Soffer and her colleagues have sought, with the aid of microscopic analysis, radiography, and other sophisticated investigative techniques, to replicate the molding and firing procedures used originally at Dolni Vestonice. They have concluded that these early ceramists were either "awfully bad potters" by modern standards (a possibility the authors go on persuasively to reject) or, amazingly (yet more plausibly), they may not actually have been trying to create objects of permanence: ...the earliest use of ceramics may been for their special and unique fire-related properties rather than for a function based on their visual appearances... The high fracture rate encountered... also strongly suggests that what was important was not the final durable product but rather the process of making and firing the objects. Because it was this relatively brief production and use process that may have been of prime importance, we also suspect that its behavioral context may not have been a utilitarian one. Soffer et al suggest that the exploding of the ceramic object was the principal reason for its manufacture, whereby we encounter a second possible use-function of the fired ceramic of the Upper Paleolithic. It was likely an acoustic, not primarily a visual 'performance' as in modern pyrotechnics. The walls of the kiln were designed, they conjecture, not just to "control the thermal shock process" but to "protect the people from flying fragments." A mytho-conceptual accounting... Wisely, the researchers do not hazard a detailed interpretation of the 'meaning' of the intriguing human behavior described above. I would have little to add except to enumerate, perhaps, the obvious: (1) the act, by reason of the extensive evidence which brings it to light, was probably collective in its inspiration and execution, neither the work of an individual nor unique to the sites studied; (2) on the issue of 'permanence' the inferred behavior comes down, rather unambiguously, on the negative side; and may, in fact, represent one position in a 'wordless debate' on the value of an enduring material culture; (3) the act appears to have served no 'utilitarian purpose' whatsoever; indeed, it raises, for scholarly consideration, the possibility that other major developments in human technology have been 'non-utilitarian' in origin and purpose; the 'practical application' of a procedure may, in the typical manifestation, be a 'late event', a cultural 'afterthought' involving a narrowing of the perceived domain of a process which was formerly vibrant with extensive meaning; (4) the mythic substratum of the collective behavior of these early ceramists -- i.e. the conceptual basis of the act as an expression of metaphor -- comprised nothing less than the primary elements of their material surroundings; that is, 'earth', 'water', 'fire', plus that mixture of gaseous and (potentially explosive) vaporous substances the ancients called 'air'; and (5), a final notation of the obvious, the primary 'subject matter' of this discursive behavior, as revealed in the hundreds of animal figurines and so-called 'Venuses' which were deliberately exploded at these (and no doubt other) sites, was 'nature' itself in its complex diversity and fecundity. Whatever its exact cognitive implications the performance was a manifestation of metaphor first and foremost, a 'microcosmic' reconstruction of the larger universe which was indeed coming apart. The time-depth was twenty-four-to-twenty-eight-thousand years before the present. The stable life of the forager, formerly at home in the complex border region of the land and the sea, was now inching toward its tragic denouement. The forest, the interior environment of the evolving human community, could no longer contain the pressures arising from without, where fire raged. The cultural out-pouring of that distant time was anticipatory in its essential features, antecedent to the real explosion of the Late Upper Paleolithic which was a social cataclysm primarily, the destruction of the culture (and ancestral habitat) of early humanity.
A cultural divider of populations... I have tried to sketch, tentatively (and, no doubt, inadequately), some of the problems we must consider in evaluating the material production of the Upper Paleolithic, that confusing time (paradoxically) in human cultural evolution when the material record begins, in straightforward fashion, to call attention to itself at long last. Let me say, first of all, that no amount of myth-inspired insinuation can hide the fact that the phenomenon we are discussing is principally a cultural matter, not at all related to observed 'physical differences' between populations of humans. I have no doubt that each of the two major cultural processes we speak of engaged the energies of individuals who exhibited the full spectrum of physiological characteristics and differences which the population of humans exhibited as a whole. (It has been known since the beginning of the twentieth century that a globe-circling Arctic Culture existed in post-Ice-age times which was remarkably homogeneous in its major mythic constraints despite the apparent fact that it embraced a great number of populations assumed to be 'physically distinct'.) As others have pointed out (see Part A [this chapter], Footnote #41), there is no shred of credible evidence to suggest that the cultural production of the so-called 'Neanderthals' differed from that of their contemporaries, the people considered to be 'anatomically modern'. (The human evolutionary sciences of our time appear to persist along this mistaken path for mythic reasons of their own.) It is erroneous or, at best, grossly misleading to regard the vast cultural landscape of the Upper Paleolithic as the exploratory probing of anatomically modern human beings alone, people who, long uncomfortable in the 'stagnant milieu' of the old cultural dispensation, were unaccountably seized, around 40,000 years B.P., by the desire to change. The conflict which is seen to emerge between different 'lifestyles', between competing modes of cognition and perception, is in no sense whatsoever to be regarded as a divider of human population along anatomical (much less so-called 'racial') lines. To designate the immense cultural out-pouring of the period as the sole achievement of the 'anatomically modern' specimen is to ignore the fact that the wider system, with which the surface evidence must have existed in a mutually interactive reproductive relation, appears to have been stable over tens of thousands of years, hardly the expected chronological framework for what one might call an 'explosive' cultural transformation. The 'cave art' of the European Upper Paleolithic, remarkably consistent in style and texture (if not exactly homogeneous in content as we shall discover in a moment), spanned twenty thousand years at least, a period six or seven times longer than the time which has elapsed to date since the invention of writing! Thus our problematic appears compounded. The cultural achievement of the Upper Paleolithic may have been neither 'revolutionary' in its style nor 'specifically modern' in its sources and inspiration. But how, then, is the production of this obviously important transitional moment in human cultural evolution to be evaluated? We may discover that metaphor (and the articulation of myth) sheds light where little else does much good. |
| The interior perspective... Due to the marked 'animist' propensity of early humans (which was, I have suggested elsewhere, the inevitable outcome of a greatly expanded social awareness) the earth, i.e. 'nature' in its entirety, had become a highly subjective assemblage, layered with empathetic meanings of rich and varied composition. Thus the cave interiors of the European Paleolithic, and the graphic depictions of animated life we find on these walls and ceilings, may be understood as the physical representation of a definite mytho-conceptual reality, as an explicit celebration of what had become, in the course of hundreds of thousands of years of evolutionary experience, a kind of inner connection to natural objects and events. The passage of the human population to this advanced level of assimilation and social integration was literally (and metaphorically) displayed in a remarkable journey which took their members (in the first of many exploratory thrusts) from their forested homeland, at the shores of the Western rivers and the sea, deep into the interior of the continent of Eurasia. But they were led, en route, into the depths of the earth itself, there to create a universe appropriate to their evolving existential purpose and social experience. In the darkened caves at Chauvet (and in other concealed sites in modern-day France and Spain) the metaphysical reality of a successful human adaptation -- what I have called the development oof the 'interior perspective' in human consciousness -- was materially exemplified and illuminated. The oldest (and most recent)... In 1994 three friends were exploring the cliffs above the gorges of the Ardêche (a branch of the Rhone) and made the Paleolithic discovery of the century. Led by speleologist Jean Marie-Chauvet (after whom the newly discovered grotto was immediately named), the three came upon a profusion of wall paintings, drawings, and engravings which had not been viewed by human beings for many thousands of years. Anthropologist Margaret Conkey, who has had the rare opportunity to view the material first-hand, writes that ...the images were often so vivid and fresh it was hard to remember that some of them have yielded dates at 32,000 years ago, nearly twice as old as Lascaux. Some of the engravings look so recent that the scrapings of the cave wall surface still cling to the lines once made by a firmly held stone tool. I was struck by the aesthetic impact of carefully rendered horses's muzzles and the dramatic look of the cave lions' faces(79) Conkey was quick to grasp the meaning of the images as tactile as well as visual recreation: A panel of red dots can be shown to have been made using the palm of a hand. When one looks at the computer generated imagery of those hands 'making' the dots, the act of image-making is suddenly very performative. We can readily imagine the hand and its pigment pressing up against the cave wall, not merely making red dots, but also, perhaps, somehow 'connecting' the hand and the pigment with the cave wall surface. The 'connection' Conkey speaks of was likely a mythic value in itself for these humans who appear to have arrived at the apex of an evolutionary development in which the 'self', as a social as well as biological entity, was maximally extended. I am not the first to note that the appearance of beads (in the European Upper Paleolithic and elsewhere), as articles of personal adornment and likely gift-giving, is an expression of the desire to give literal form to connection as an explicit social value.(80) We discussed previously, at some length, the understandable propensity of early humans to establish identity with the world through direct contact, i.e., through use of the digital extremities especially. The red dots of Chauvet (which were produced, Conkey says in the above quote, by pressing ocher into the cave wall with the palm of the hand) call special attention to this early human proclivity as do the familiar hand-prints of the Paleolithic. The latter were created, it appears, by spewing pigmented material from the mouth to the hand (and its outstretched fingers) which were pressed against the concave surfaces of the wall. Here we have a stunning example (hypothesized earlier) of the power of a fully 'unmediated technology', the body in action. We witness the capacity of early humans to fabricate a complex (if fragile) material culture with little or no reliance on tools. The animals at Chauvet... The discovery in the caves of Ardêche has turned the study of the Upper Paleolithic on end. It had been long assumed, without much debate, that the material culture of the period captured the life-style of people who were hunters, in the main, whose thoughts and preferences were taken up exclusively with certain animals of the 'open', ungulates (for the most part) which they killed for meat on an extended corridor which lay beneath the glacier's edge (see Plate VI for image from Lascaux). In the conventional wisdom the cave drawings of the Upper Paleolithic, with their abundant portrayal of life in motion, were the output of a culture in which prey and predation formed the uncomplicated nexus of a single social dynamic. In this view the focus of the collective energy was the beast of prey -- the grassland fauna of the Late Pleistocene -- with tension provided by an occasional lion, or other predator, who was seen competing with the human hunter for its food. Plate VI But we discover, alas, that in the caves at Chauvet animals of prey form a distinct minority. "From the start," Conkey says, ...the images have surprised us: so many cave bears; so many cave lions; all those rhinos, often with an unusual black band across the middle of the back and belly, and almost always with ears rendered so distinctively. In the known inventory of animal species depicted in Paleolithic cave art, these dangerous animals are relatively rare. Although she reserves judgment on the meaning of this unanticipated distribution of animal species, Conkey does call attention to a fact which other anthropologists will likely also make much of: namely, the power of the animals most frequently represented and the 'danger' they pose to human life. Whatever turns the debate will eventually take, the disproportionate representation of the rhinoceros (far more than any other species of animal in these earliest of Upper Paleolithic drawings, paintings, and engravings) should make at least one thing rather clear. The artists, at this early stage of modern human cultural development, probably existed on the same physical topography as the powerful and solitary animals they depicted. This was definitely not the extensive reaches of the closing Ice Age on which grazed the vast herds of horses, bison, elk, mammoths and the other megafauna associated, in scholarly convention, with the 'hunting ethos' of Upper Paleolithic culture and community. The home of this branch of developing humanity was likely similar to the preferred habitat of the rhinoceros of ancient and modern times: namely, wooded enclosures bordering rivers and large streams... these being situated in a certain irregular adjacency to open grassland. For like the rhinoceros itself, the human being was (and remains) a transitional being in relation to the landscape, pulled (mytho-conceptually) in opposite directions. A time of upheaval... For a wide segment of the Eurasian population, the physical determinants of life had changed dramatically in the closing millenia of the pleistocene. Myth, ideology, and human thought process itself were disassembled and fundamentally restructured. (The image of the "Titan" is almost certainly the mythic residue of a period of upheaval which took place, on the Eurasian continent, far in advance of history.) Formerly littoral in its settlement preferences (the idea proposed and tentatively developed earlier in this chapter) a significant segment of the human community began to explore the open grasslands of the Eurasian continent. In pursuit of herbivores, reindeer especially (but eventually the 'megafauna' of the late 'Ice Age') which sought unforested ground for grazing, humans began to adapt in greater numbers to the treeless sub-glacial corridor which circled much of the Northern Hemisphere, acquiring in the process a new orientation to space with its predictable effects on the collective imagination. A significant portion of humanity began now to celebrate the illuminated vistas of the high plains, while shunning and learning to fear the closed interiors of their former abode (as their biological forebears had once learned to fear darkness). Eurasian culture, and its relentless eastward extension (via the Arctic Circle and/or some other unknown route over water) into the expanses of the New World, reverberates with both the positive and negative effects of this unique transition in human awareness. Significant aspects of experience were soon pitted against each other. The high side in this comprehensive dualist paradigm was the grassland which opened at glacier's edge. At the negative pole was the forest itself and the dark images of forest existence. Meanwhile, declining cross-structural input brought elements of experience into increasingly fixed alignment with value. Derogated images at one polar extreme bolstered the imagination of 'virtue' at the other, producing an inevitably destructive relation of positive feedback. 'Virtue' became so constituted as to be structurally dependent upon the experience which opposed it. A framework was erected within which the acceptance (and celebration) of one aspect of assimilated reality, an outcome of the process by which an ordered structure loses its 'marking', entailed the wholesale degradation (and ultimate rejection) of the opposing category, the sets of features which are 'marked', i.e., those which stand out as structurally exceptional. To praise was simultaneously to blame. The new Culture of the Open was, first and foremost, a blaming culture. The new and progressively dominating element in this transformation of consciousness was the daytime sky. Mesmerized by the image of the rising sun, these early sub-glacial plains dwellers seemed bent on tracing this celestial entity back to its source, to the continent's eastern-most limits of traversable ground surface, and beyond. Meanwhile, the direction of the movement and the movement itself (building on ancient conceptual structure) entered into positive association with the male, whereas the human female became associated with a spectrum of strictly negatives values: settled existence and everything the footloose population left behind. Male equaled east equaled mobility equaled new life (remarkably), while the image of the female came to encompass the west and all signs of stasis or death. Eventually, certain of these new alignments with gender would make their way to the next continent, though in that new environment the orientation, or directional 'heading', was to change subtly. While the movement across Eurasia had varied from northeast to southeast, in the Americas the essential plunge of the human population across the continents was southeast to due south. So it is perhaps not surprising to discover that the alignment with gender and value changed accordingly. In native cultures of the Americas the affirmed aspect of experience would come to include (besides the east) the south, whereas the derogated category would come to encompass the north (as well as the west). The Navajo of the American Southwest, probable descendants of some of the last of these visitors from the West, would continue to divide their new world along lines of demarcation set down in post ice-age Eurasia. It has long been my suspicion that the culture of the Navajos (and their Athabascan cousins on the northwest coast of North America) reflect a transitional stage in the emergence of systems of social hegemony. First Man stood on the eastern side of the First World. He represented the Dawn, and was the Life Giver. First Woman stood opposite in the West. She represented Darkness and Death(81). [Emphasis added.] |
| A simpler universe... While affirming and elaborating old constellations of meaning, the open grasslands of ice age Eurasia engendered forms of mythic preference and rejection which were likely new to human experience. The perceived uniformity and (above all) simplicity of the flora and fauna of the Open Environment stood in striking (and soon favorable) contrast to the complexity of the forest ecology. Humans had emerged, it seems, from beneath the dense canopy of nature, from behind that tangled obstruction to male vision! In the new representation of the world the dark metaphors of complex derivation were replaced by the singular and unchallenged image of the sun: the source of life on earth. Meanwhile, the essential geometry of human perception underwent radical change. Up and down, straight and curved, horizontal, vertical. The imagination of shape and spatial orientation was transformed within the framework of a mytho-conceptual dualism which separated nature from the culture of humans (and humans from each other). To the modern descendants of this new Ice Age consciousness, uprightness of character continues to denote moral rectitude, while to be straightforward is to be 'honest'. Meanwhile, the 'circular' entered into close association with nature and the female of our species with a predictable accumulation of negative content.(82) Because of the extensive human diffusion of the Late Pleistocene (and its aftermath), certain of these effects are to be observed in cultures world-wide, though the intensity of the representation varies greatly. A roomful of people of diverse origins and backgrounds would produce remarkable (perhaps unanimous) agreement on several crucial points. Though not degraded in all contexts, the circular -- associated almost universally with the totality of nature -- verges on the devious and is, of course, assumed to be a natural characteristic of the female mind which is said to be incapable of strictly linear sequence (in argumentation for example). The unconscious, that cognitive domain associated, positively or negatively (but seemingly universally), with the female of our species, came to be considered an instrument of rank duplicity. The English word dream is derived, comparative grammarians tell us, from the Indoeuropean root dhreugh meaning 'to deceive'. It is not wide of the mark, metaphorically, to suggest that the Culture of the Open is the triumph of the conscious mind (male) over the dark forces of deception (female). This is the mythic-conceptual framework within which male virtue springs to life and engages treacherous nature in deadly conflict (as in Jewish and Christian myth). Elevation in particular was an indicator of value and remains such for us today. High continues to mean good; low is bad, as we all know and affirm routinely in behaviors which are seemingly automatic. Low evokes the earth (female nature plus dark instincts), while high has entered into assimilation with male creativity and the lofty reality of an artifactual universe, i.e. one created through male inspiration and action. High/low was over-arching in an emerging cosmology which situated nature, and the earth, in a region inferior to the sun and the heavens, which were the illuminated abode of superior personages, or gods, mostly male (or in service to male entities) who reigned above nature. Located in the middle-to-lower regions, life was often little more than a passage to death (a metaphor which was to achieve an especially grotesque representation among certain Christian sects of the Middle Ages). Earth, for the transformed sensibility, comprised a mere gateway to the deeper regions of Hades or Hell, presided over exclusively by female entities, and their hounds, who supervised the transit of human souls from the world of the living to the world of the dead. The association of the human female with the dog and other animals of the depraved forest (such as the pig(83)) is strong in Indoeuropean and pre-Indoeuropean myth. Many herding folk, who celebrated the open landscape, while rejecting, and fearing, the closed environment of the forest, despised both. Death, and its various traditional attributes, underwent a full conceptual transformation, as had natural life process itself which became progressively degraded, and polluted, made subservient to transcendent meanings. As natural process, and as conceptual companion to a despised female aspect, death was heavily derogated already in pre-Indoeuropean culture, as was pain, and has remained so to this day. Pain appears to have undergone a distinct conceptual change from a bodily signal that something is wrong (and needs attention) to the meaning of physical discomfort deliberately caused. The notion of pain, as hurt inflicted by the other, appears to have evolved in Indoeuropean and probably pre-Indoeuropean discourse with the growing importance of the twin concepts of enmity and blame. Cf. Latin poena, meaning 'penalty' or 'punishment', derived from the reconstructed Indoeurpean base kwei- meaning 'to avenge'. English smart (German Schmerz), by contrast, from Indoeuropean *mer-d meaning simply 'rubbing away' (or 'attrition') but with no clear intimation of hostile intent on the part of the other, may point to an earlier more cross-structured assemblage of meanings. |
| Where once, as at Chauvet and Lascaux in the European Upper Paleolithic, the bowels of the earth had witnessed remarkable interior journeys by inquiring humans (culminating in the ritual representation of life as a complex structure' [which included pain]), these hidden regions were now host to images which, as the expression of material deemed polluted, were conceptually counter-posed to images of 'high value' existing in the universe above ground. Once the site of human celebration(84), the interior of the earth became now the domain of a transmogrified female aspect, a dreadful place where prowled not only the alienated figure of death, as life-negating, separating, painful, exclusive; here roamed, in perpetual darkness and isolation, ghastly replicas of all the designated enemies of male virtue -- a kind of inverse pantheon over which loomed the structurally perverted likeness of despised nature herself. Experience gyrated... In this new Culture of the Open, which the 'nomadic male' embraced as appropriate to his own spirit (and anatomy), sky consciousness, and the inclination to view heavenly bodies as transcendent phenomena (and the earth as subordinate), were necessary stages in an evolving human awareness which turned the perceptual field through which the broad expanse of the material world was organized, viewed, and interpreted on its side. The frame within which nature was conceptualized appears to have been rotated through ninety degrees. The collective construction of the world was thus fundamentally altered. In this new vision of reality the horizontal yielded to the vertical (while lateral connectedness gave way to linear hierarchy).(85) The invention of new social forms.. This rotation of the perceptual framing of experience had profound consequences for all aspects of discursive interaction in human community. Structures were now in position to allow the replacement of traditional kinship relationships by a hierarchical structure over which the human male, the very representation on earth of the radiant sun in the sky, presided as benefactor and singular source of life -- a mythic assimilation which was no less important for its colossal arrogance and presumption. Kinship systems which spread out from the mother, were abandoned and replaced by the concept of fatherhood, newly discovered in association with the breeding of live-stock, and the patriarchal concept of the family in which biology, curiously, was nudged to the side to make greater room for a reality which was essentially political-cultural. For despite much surface concern with blood line, biological descent was not the central organizing principle and preoccupation in this new social construct. Myth introduced, of course, its own notion of descent -- a linear affair constructed along the male line exclusively -- but patriarchy brought, at the same time, a new and ultimately more practical meaning to the notion of human kinship, namely the concept of ownership, the notion of the family as property. In its derived meaning the word family came to designate the total aggregate of human beings attached to the household (i.e. owned by the patriarch), including its slaves. One can not escape the fact that the Latin word famulus meant/means 'servant' or 'slave'. That the ownership of servants was so common among these early pastoralists, leads one to assume that the herding (and ultimately the ownership) of animals was the structural predecessor of human slavery. In any case, these two ugly progeny of the new structure of male virtue, the one the diseased sibling (or parent) of the other, quickly adapted to each other's company and can be seen walking their crooked path through human history, hand in hand. Slavery and the domestication of animals would soon join the social system which despised nature and the human female becoming, in time, inseparable parts of the same moral-cultural package. The human male as villain... The opinion has wide-spread (and growing) support that social violence is a fact of human biology, that the destructive tendencies of individuals and institutions are 'hard-wired' in the behavior of the human male in particular (and have, from that bastion of biological support, become transmitted to human culture generally). The extreme position has been recently articulated that societies of the future may have to acquire new forms of control (and coercion) if this 'natural male behavior' is to be restrained. (These analysts rarely consider that the interpersonal violence may have a significant cultural component, that human institutions may be responsible for this 'bad behavior', that new strategies must be devised for curbing them instead. Their low opinion of the 'male character' notwithstanding, such critics appear themselves as apologists for the power-centered ideologies which gird the actions of individuals [and institutions].) The best evidence one can submit for considering patriarchy, and related structures of social privilege, as culturally 'reinforced' (and not solely the reflection of an 'enduring biological state') is the fact that these modes of organization continue, in the present day and age, to be unsatisfying to wide segments of the human population. Nor are these dissatisfied elements made up entirely of 'feminists'. Passive (if not overt) resistance to the institutions of control, which patriarchal institutions have spawned for their own purposes, is quite high in the general population, even (perhaps especially) among men. Them not us... The bleakest summation of the present human condition (and the part an alleged biological heritage of violence has played in bringing this terrible state about) was put together recently by Richard Wrangham and Dale Peterson in a grim compendium of abusive behaviors by Apes (and certain selected tribal 'primitives') toward others of their species (Demonic Males 1996, discussed earlier in this chapter). Yet these two authors appear to consider themselves and certain male members of their own families as exceptional (if I am reading the dedication correctly in which they single out two men with the same surnames as their own -- their fathers apparently -- for recognition as "two who found another way" [my emphasis]). I do not question, for a second, that these men, and perhaps others in the cited authors' families (and in our own), depart from the grotesque representations of the male character (which they nonetheless insist, in their writings, are somehow paradigmatic). Or even that these grotesque characterizations contain a large grain of truth, particularly if, for a moment, we look past the behaviors of individuals and small communities (which present pretty much a mixed bag to analysis), and examine instead the conduct of large organizations and institutions, as these can be found to operate cruelly (and routinely) within the framework of supposedly advanced 'civilized values', a direction of inquiry which Wrangham and Peterson seem not much inclined to pursue. Besides, if war and other physically and psychologically abusive structures were 'natural' (in the sense of 'inevitable'), as Wrangham and Peterson (and many others) wish to intimate, it does seem that there would be wider endorsement of public policies of violence than we find actually exists. The closest one comes to an 'apologetics' for human violence is not in the writings of Clausowitz and others but in the narrations of socio-biologists and anthropologists who manage, whether or not this is their acknowledged intent, to set this feature of the 'human character' up as paradigmatic. These academics succeed in giving theoretical substance and justification to the very behaviors they claim to abjure in their own lives. Why violence should be so routine in human conduct is indeed a troubling question. However, the 'default quotient' is high in the human response to initiative by others, so the tendency to 'go along' complicates serious analysis. It is easy to mistake mere acquiescense, in the implementation of a policy of violence by the few, for support by the many. The individual who 'goes along' (der mitmacht) often does so out of misplaced feelings of 'solidarity' with his/her community (which can scarcely be considered the moral equivalent of evil intent). The simple fact is that human evolution has tolerated, one must say even encouraged, such a wide range of contrastive behaviors, mythic dispositions (good and bad), collective preferences, weaknesses of various kinds (and 'strengths'), that it becomes quite impossible to say that such and such a 'behavior' is the inevitable consequence of our 'nature'; except perhaps to say that evolutionary process, with humans, has been particularly accommodating of diversity, both between and within populations. What happens in the actual case is almost anybody's guess, though even in the extreme instance the mythic patterns often assume familiar shapes, and these we must study and identify as matters of urgency. Another look at the Bible... There is a text, well-known by name to most Westerners (and to readers in the present pages), which reflects the curious culmination of much Late Ice-Age myth, though its written form dates from a much later period. Let us turn, once again, to the five Books of Moses: the so-called Pentateuch from which Jewish, Christian and Muslim religious cosmology has drawn inspiration. Let's consider these strange documents for what they might reflect of the period of upheaval outlined and briefly discussed thus far. The style of these texts is uneven. Moreover, they reveal gross contradictions. Their written form is likely a very late compilation of materials from diverse sources, probably oral traditions which have ancient roots, though the more immediate ideological inspiration was likely the same dualistic structures which inspired the religions of Persia, e.g. Zoroastrianism and similar cultural presentations. In conflict with a distant past... It is hard to imagine that the intent of this material was not to propagandize a stubborn population. It recalls the war against nature (and the human female) which had raged, on the continent of Eurasia, since the closing millenia of the ice age. The text deserves re-examination because the period it represents is poorly understood. Besides, the struggle against nature did not come to an end in biblical times. It got powerful new impetus in the Christianization of Europe and is waged, with an unrelenting fury, still today. Resistance to patriarchal hegemony must have been considerable, given the extraordinary measures which were taken to ensure compliance with its precepts and rules. These were extensive, if we are to take the Bronze Age sources at their face value. Two books in particular -- Leviticus and Deuteronomy -- are enlightening if depressing in the extreme. They comprise an interminable codification of patriarchal law and prescribed penalties. (One reasonably asks for what social purpose? To what extent does a healthy, self-regulated community need such declarations and written expressions of belief?) Because the Pentateuch is valued as 'holy scripture' by wide segments of contemporary Western society,(86) it is certainly not unfair to view such materials as philosophically formative in this culture which many of us cling to as our special heritage. The divine protagonist in these documents presents the picture of a crazed tyrant, petty in the extreme, unhinged by power (thus not exactly in control), reeling from one crisis to another, threatened by dissent both from within and without, competing apparently with other heavenly beings for the fealty of his earthly subjects. (So much for the 'monotheism' on which modern religions are supposedly based.) Believers of today would prefer, no doubt, to ignore these materials, ascribing them to a culturally primitive state which the modern religions of the West have since 'transcended'. But I believe the central messages of this material continue to be highly productive elements in the maintenance and stabilization of Western culture, however embarrassing they may seem to sophisticated believers and others (and however crude their expression). One is struck by the certainty, and arrogance, with which this ruling entity creates divisions:(87) the division between good and evil, between the righteous and the wicked, between his obedient followers and everybody else; the central distinction between male and female, of course, but also between rich and poor, left and right, creatures which leap (locusts, for example, which are deemed fit for consumption by humans) and those which creep (earthworms, for example, which are not), and dozens of other major and minor differences in culture and living nature which become visible through a lens-filter intended to separate the pure from the impure, the clean from the unclean. The latter distinction appears to be one of the main points of focus of the document. The narrative contains countless additional pairings of an abstract character: for example, sin and atonement, guilt and innocence, sickness and health and (curiously) the state of being clothed as opposed to the 'abominable' condition of being naked, to list just a few. (The Pentateuch and the 'sin' of natural discourse was discussed in Part I -- Chapter III of the present writing.) Nakedness is a matter of remarkable interest and concern in this text (as noted and discussed in the chapter referred to above), a fact which depth psychology might be inclined to interpret as a compensatory response to the extreme denial of the conceptual element closed. Suppressed as a consequence of the generalized degradation of nature, the concept asserts itself here obsessionally, an illustration of what Carl Jung called the 'shadow expression' of the archetype. Denied in the culture at large, closure surfaces here pathologically as the need to hide the human body (i.e. nature itself). By the way, a word for 'nature' seems not to occur in the Authorized Version of this ancient material, so thorough-going was the effort to eradicate the concept. Neither does the word forest -- not even in its account of the so-called origin of human life which it places in the artifactual context -- what else? -- of a 'garden'. The farmer had special reason to be troubled by closure. Closure threatened the agricultural fields, newly rescued from an invasive nature. In the farmer's imagination, as in actual practice, the natural forest existed for the sole purpose of being replaced by man-made fields. English translations of the original text refer to animals of the forest as 'beasts of the field'. Artifact must replace nature. A besieged power structure... One enters the paranoiac world of a threatened and besieged power structure. Opposites play the crucial role in the building of a discourse. The derogated image, which has the functional task of raising male virtue to lofty heights, is the principal means by which social order is maintained in the face of threats, real and rigged. Harold Bloom has suggested that large portions of the Pentateuch were written by a woman. In my estimation the character of the Lord is so bizarre, so much a caricature of the bronze age patriarch, that Bloom's idea could be given, if appropriately modified, a better political spin. It could be convincingly argued that a great portion (if not most) of this material was derived from an oral tradition kept alive by dissident matristic elements. It is at least plausible that a tradition, in which the sky gods of patriarchy were satirized and ridiculed, survived somehow in the midst of emerging male political dominance. This proposition, though arguably worthy of further investigation, can not be proven. But neither can Bloom's. These texts bring us face-to-face with the political blame game, the patriarch's modus operandi long before the time of Moses. It has been evident in the maneuvering against imaginary enemies which characterizes policy and public discourse under the diverse systems of social organization and government which patriarchal hegemony has spawned through the centuries. Scape-goating appears to have been the principal stabilizing factor in the maintenance of social cohesion, such as it was (and is) under such systems. At the level of the individual it is the classic mechanism, familiar to psycho-therapists, by which the sick patient seeks to shift the locus of (and responsibility for) presumed crimes, moral lapses, and defects to others. It is quite impossible to imagine that the Pentateuch, which is archetypal in the viciousness of its attack on women and natural process, did not come into being originally as a response to political resistance -- or even as a satirical expression of that resistance! The protagonist, known in English translations simply as 'The Lord', seemed to have chosen as his adversaries not just patriarchal 'sun-cults' but also adherents of female-centered religions. Consider his reference to worship of both the 'sun and the moon' in Deuteronomy 17.3-5. In pre-patriarchal cultures world-wide the moon had a strong positive association with the human female; it might be that certain of such cultures revered the sun as well, though most sun-cults were explicitly patriarchal. (This cultural-political ambiguity continues to be reflected in the fact that the various words for 'sun', in Indoeuropean languages, alternate between masculine and feminine gender [e.g. 'die Sonne', in German, but 'le Soleil' in French]. To the Sami of Scandinavian Lapland, who appear, like the Navajo, to have occupied a cultural mid-point in the transition from 'matristic' to 'patriarchal' social structures, the 'sun' was the all-powerful mother of creation.) In any case, the Pentateuch would deal with the two groups of pagans in the same manner: And if it is indeed true and certain that such an abomination has been committed..., then you shall bring out to your gates that man or woman who has committed that wicked thing, and shall stone to death that man or woman with stones. The sentiment expressed in this passage (with characteristic clumsiness but with the special clarity which seems to emerge with crude redundancy) is affirmed, we may presume, by Jew, Christian, and Muslim alike as the inerrant 'word of God'. It is hardly surprising that the killing of people for their so-called religious beliefs is usual practice in patriarchal community when overt ideological non-compliance is encountered. Murder and legally sanctioned genocide have been ubiquitous when and wherever these social and ideological aberrations have prevailed. It seems self-evident that this material could not have been produced by a culture at one with itself, unless it was, in actual fact, satire. An empty vessel... But there was another change in perception, which redounded to the benefit of the patriarch and his position at the center of the newly created 'family', namely the construal of its females members as empty, as objects without intrinsic content. The new system of privilege separated the human female from the richly variegated structures which comprised her natural conceptual milieu, and reduced her to the status of mere container, a solely artifactual representation of her procreative capability. The effects of this conceptual transformation continue to be pervasive in patriarchal culture. They are seen tritely in linguistic derogants such as English old bag and German alte Schachtel. Male counterparts in the lexicon of English (or German), which might otherwise correspond structurally to these examples, carry no derogated meaning: e.g. young blade. The element old has become likewise pejorated in the advanced cultures of hegemony, which is an extra complicating factor in these examples. To promote its aggrandizing objectives -- and maintain its increasingly shaky grip on the collective imagination -- patriarchy must seek, like cigarette manufacturers and other drug pushers working against a widening public awareness, to attract the unknowing young. It was not too long ago that young males tooled around town (looking for girls). Even though 'tool' can designate the 'male penis', the word is, to my knowledge, never pejorated when used in this sense. Artifacts associated with the male aspect are strikingly up-beat. An aura of carefree romance attends the despicable behavior of Brecht's Mackie Messer ('Mack the Knife'). When derogation of a specific male tool does occur, the referent is unsurprisingly often a woman: 'old battle-axe'. The notion of the female person herself as artifact is deeply imbedded in patriarchal myth and fundamental to an understanding of the so-called 'family'. In her mere association with the patriarch, the creator or maker of the 'family', and as the mere recipient of the valuable male 'seed', the female acquired the mark of her belonging to the structure put together by the male creator. But this status was also the sign of her qualified redemption, or rescue, from polluted nature -- the concessional offering to the potentially dissident female. The metaphor of metallurgy... It was appropriate that metal-making would emerge in this setting. In no conceptual representation is the mythic nexus between creator, nature, and artifact more clearly evident than in the ancient patriarchal art of metallurgy. Indeed, the technology was likely the off-spring of the metaphor. This was a technology which re-produced, in its essential phases (and outputs), much of the imaginal detail and dualities of the new construction of experience: pure and refined were the valued products of the new art whose polished surfaces shone as mirrors to the radiant sun. Dull and dark, by contrast, was the polluted residue of this process and its complex sources in the natural materials of the earth. The metallurgist separated -- here we have what must be considered, in the mythic perspective, to be the quintessential male function(88) -- useful matter (Latin mater meaning 'mother') from its polluted nature through the fire of purification (which is itself a metaphoric representation of explosive male energy and virtue) to create the valuable artifactual rendering of nature, i.e. the pure metal. The mythic elements of patriarchy, assembled on the framework of ancient biology, were imbued with new purpose. The cleansing power of fire... The use of fire to cleanse, in a mythic-metaphoric sense, is itself ancient and no doubt pre-patriarchal. The ancient 'bonfire', in which the community got rid of the rubbish (i.e. the bones) of the old year, is a ritual of collective purification, i.e. a freeing of the community from a useless and encumbering past, which has deep roots in pagan culture. (It may be a 'bone-fire' of this sort which human society, and the human psyche, now desperately needs.) However, emerging patriarchy would adopt the fire of purification for purposes peculiar to its own agenda. Having found direct application as a weapon-tool against the forest (in slash-and-burn), the fire of purification soon became the mythic center of the process which would produce tools for use against the earth in general. In patriarchal myth the fire of purification was assimilated by/to the godhead and became a powerful weapon against humankind itself (as well as the rest of nature). The relation of male to female, within the overarching context of the so-called family, is this technology and chemical process mythically transformed and socially reproduced. But who can endure the day of His coming? And who can stand when He appeareth? For He is like a refiner's fire... He will purify the sons of Levi, and purge them as gold and silver, that they may offer to the LORD an offering in righteousness (Malachi 3:23). The use of violence against nature is metaphorically sanctioned and made morally requisite. Note, by the way, that the act of creation bears an uncanny structural-conceptual resemblance to rape. Violence necessarily attends the transformation of polluted matter into a pure and thus valuable artifact. The LORD, as Creator, confronts a cowering and polluted nature, overwhelms it, ravishes it with fire, renders it fit. The pure and the impure... However, unlike her metaphoric antecedent, i.e. the metal ore which was allowed to achieve that ultimate transformed state of relatively lasting purity, the female person was never able to escape her polluted disposition -- it was her 'nature' after all. It was thus necessary and urgent that she undergo nearly continuous ritual cleansing. Much nonsense has been written about the supposedly regenerative effects of female purification ritual. Viewed against the practical aims of the prehistoric patriarch, who must have been engaged in perpetual struggle to maintain hegemony (in the household and in the world), the repressive function and value of such repeated degradation of women is self-evident. In the Late Middle Ages, as Christian patriarchy sought frantically to extend its imperialist claims -- an especially mad time in the progress of a mad social pathology -- the creative metaphors of Deuteronomy found literal application in the killing of women at the stake, i.e. in the 'purification' of 'polluted nature' through fire. Patriarchy based the concept of the female as unclean ostensibly on menstruation but extended this into many other areas and functions in human life, including the natural process of giving birth. The polluting effects from the birth of a boy child were not so long-lasting as from the birth of a girl, if the document we are examining is to be taken as a reliable indicator of the early patriarchal position on this issue (Leviticus 12.2,5). This was, in fact, the immediate textual basis for the insistence by many Christians, beginning in the Middle Ages, that Christ was a first-born child, though the Law of the Firstborn ("All that open the womb are Mine" in Exo 34:19) is almost certainly a late statement of a precept which is much older in patriarchal traditions. (To the patriarchal mind-set, it was no insignificant matter that Mary had not previously undergone the polluting ordeal of giving natural birth. The ancient notion that the natural channels, through which new life emerges, are polluted and polluting, as is death [being 'natural' -- Num 5:2 and passim], gave rise to, among other things, the concept of the 'caesarian section'. It lies also at the root of the strange belief, adhered to by at least one Middle Eastern sect, that the Messiah will be born of a man [as the natural source and giver of life], an idea one would consider farcical, were it not for the fact that the historical stage, upon which this odd notion emerged, is so covered with blood.) Nature rescued... For the female person the only hope of redemption from polluting and polluted nature lay in her artifactual transformation. Owing to its origin in male conception, the artifact was clean and uncontaminated, qualities the early patriarchal consciousness must have readily assimilated to the polished edge of a jade axe, for example, or the shiny bronze or steel of a new knife which did, on the other hand, require regular polishing, if used, as did the female person herself. In the context of early patriarchal agriculture -- the period which ensues with the fabrication of steel farm implements and the turning of the soil -- the human female had her primary artifactual reflex in the clean field, which male virtue had rescued, like the female person herself, from polluted nature. In the proto-mythology of patriarchal agriculture the clean field appears to have been the structural equivalent of the empty container. The clean field was, like the Garden of Eden, nature transformed, ready for use (but not yet contaminated by use). The clean field, virgin and un-entered, was the spiritual inspiration of the early patriarch as farmer. (In early patriarchal burial practice unused artifacts are seen gradually to replace natural objects as preferred grave goods.) In the agricultural community the field was the main basis for patriarchal claims of ownership and wealth and, like all rescued nature, it posed the threat it might return to type. Like the patriarchal fields, tilled and tended with devotion, the human female had also to be watched and cultivated, lest she 'revert to nature'. Here the need of the burgeoning agricultural enterprise for large families played no small role in the important task of holding 'nature' at bay. Big families augmented the significant labor force required to keep the patriarchal fields from 'going back' while, at the same time, they kept women continuously pregnant and happily in need of 'purification', that important ritual hedge against the dreaded reversion. Memories of old... Return to nature struck terror in the patriarchal heart. What this reversion may have comprised is not hard to guess. Forms of polyandry, as expressed in the freedom of the desirous female to initiate sexual interaction with an assortment of partners, had probably been occasional (if not common) practice among many early European societies, a tradition which may have survived as a disturbing memory in the consciousness of the nervous (and often aging) patriarch. Here again: is not the noise against it prima facie evidence of its erstwhile existence as the social 'norm' (or, at least, as a social alternative)? How else is the degraded image of the whore to be interpreted if not as castigation of a perceived tendency among the free women of a present (or older) time, a tendency to 'behave' in ways which were subversive of patriarchal claims to power? The condemnation of the polyandrous female is not surely to be explained by the possible fact that she expected payment in compensation for sexual favors. Material exchange, as the basis for a sexual relationship, was hardly frowned on by patriarchal institutions then or since. It provides, indeed, the necessary basis for the marriage contract in many traditional patriarchal societies. At issue was not the female's exploitation of her own body, and its sexual and procreative capability, for material gain but rather the alarming likelihood that she too, on occasion, might exhibit preference for a wider assortment of discursive partners and thus bring to ruin her exclusive relation to the patriarch. At issue was her possible licentiousness! There was the dark fear that females, especially those attached to the patriarchal household, might seek again to exercise the discursive freedom which was once theirs but which now only the patriarch himself enjoyed (and continues to enjoy, as special privilege, in many cultures of the world). The mythic origins of monoculture... When the Lord spoke to Moses (Leviticus 19.19), he intoned against the planting of 'mixed seeds' in a single field. One's immediate response is merely to pass this over as yet another instance of the xenophobia which is ubiquitous in this document. It is, of course, that. But there is a more direct meaning less obscured by crude abstraction. This passage may well constitute the earliest written formulation of the environmentally disastrous concept of 'monoculture' as a prescriptive principle. One is startled to find this pernicious modern practice laid out so explicitly, in an ancient Bronze Age text at that, and in language which is nearly disarming in its simplicity and straight-forward surface meaning (though the rule is stated inversely). Moreover, the ban on mixed seed and plant types in a single field is no mere recommendation to be treated lightly. Like other dictatorial pronouncements in this genre it is delivered with the expectation of full compliance. Israel Shahak describes in amusing detail the elaborate subterfuge (ordained and instituted by the Talmud), which fundamentalist Jews must resort to, to create the 'appearance' of compliance with this difficult injunction (while violating its intent), the Lord being apparently quite gullible and easy to bamboozle: Similar dispensations were issued by zionist rabbis in respect of the ban (based on Leviticus, 19:19) against sowing two different species of crop in the same field. Modern agronomy has however shown that in some cases (especially in growing fodder) mixed sowing is the most profitable. The rabbis invented a dispensation according to which one man sows the field lengthwise with one kind of seed, and later that day his comrade, who 'does not know' about the former, sows another kind of seed crosswise. However, this method was felt to be too wasteful of labor, and a better one was devised: one man makes a heap of one kind of seed in a public place and carefully covers it with a sack or piece of board. The second kind of seed is then put on top of the cover. Later, another man comes and exclaims, in front of witnesses, 'I need this sack (or board)' and removes it, so that the seeds mix 'naturally'. Finally, a third man comes along and is told, 'take this and sow the field,' which he proceeds to do.(89) Moreover, the instruction has extra force by reason of the fact that it occurs elsewhere in the Pentateuch.(90) Right-wing Christian purveyors of hate who have used these (and other) passages of so-called scripture to promote the exclusion of so-called Blacks and other people of so-called Color from so-called White community correctly understand the original xenophobic metaphors of this material, though they appear to ignore its more mundane surface meaning (a fact I find interesting, if somewhat puzzling). However, other levels of metaphor become immediately apparent, and these relate directly to the topic previously broached. The ignorant identification, in the consciousness of the would-be patriarch, of 'seed' with the male ejaculate and, by apparent extension, with the male individual himself, is sufficiently in evidence in surviving texts, oral traditions, and linguistic reconstructions (PIE and Nostratic) for us to conclude that this meaning, though perhaps subtle to moderns, was quite clear to the contemporary mind. English seed, and numerous cognate forms in Indoeuropean and related languages, has been derived from PIE *se[i]-, meaning to 'cast' or 'scatter'. The concept of dispersal, ubiquitously associated in Indoeuropean (and pre-Indoeuropean) consciousness with the male individual, who appears to have been more inclined to 'stray from the nest', thus lies at the root of these modern reflexes. In the Authorized Version of the Pentateuch the word seed means 'male offspring' or 'male descendant'. The core meaning of the word field(91), its implication of nature as artifact combined with its assimilated connection to the female procreative capacity, would have been likewise obvious to the contemporary sensibility. The Lord's injunction had thus an area of applicability which extended beyond what was falsely considered, at that time (and ever since), to be merely good agriculture. It is self-evident that the Lord sought here to establish certain specific rules regulating the social conduct of the human female, her proper relation to the patriarch, her proper position in the patriarchal family, etc. A lop-sided dispensation... The Lord's rule makes clear (if only indirectly and, in fact, through omission: the crafty way dispensations of privilege are frequently disclosed in patriarchal law) that while a single seed type (i.e. a single male individual) may be employed to 'inseminate' several fields (i.e., a male may engage in intercourse with a wide assortment of females), the individual field (i.e. human female) may receive seed from only a single source. Although the male -- this is the unmarked part of the message -- may engage in sexual contacts with a multiplicity of partners, this quite ordinary dispensation is not available to the female (the articulated or marked part of the transmission). The overt language of the Lord's injunction conceals a precept, hardly less important for the fact that it is tacitly stated, which affirms the lop-sided monogamy which has characterized the mythically correct patriarchal family through its long tenure in human history and prehistory. The myth of single cause... But this understanding of the text hardly begins to do justice to the complexity of the imaginal structures which have pushed themselves, in this instance, into surface recognition. The immediate pettiness of much of this early material -- one can usefully make the connection here with the simple metaphors and language of modern advertizing -- easily obscures, for us, their probable impact on the contemporary mind and their power to transform culture. Mixed seeding, as a proscribed method of planting (as in all derogation the appreciated element is unmarked) was merely the trigger which fired simultaneously a number of assimilated connections (in part, already addressed). These comprised, in their totality, an even more inclusive message of the text, a message in which racism, male supremacy, and numerous other pathological manifestations of patriarchal myth came together and were rationalized. This was the concept of singular causation (within, of course, traditional patriarchal dispensations of value). Though other surface phenomena may be discredited, and dismissed, as the superstitions of a primitive band of pastoralists, this notion remains as a central organizing precept in the Western imagination, though its existence and origins are unexplored (if even recognized) by science and philosophy. The main tenet (and error) of Western thought, that follows from the need to elevate the male to the position of the single giver of life (and the inspirational center of the 'family') is the notion that complex phenomena have simple causes, that worlds of variegated meaning arise from singular moments of creativity, that the human family and its various socio-cultural divisions and manifestations arise from biological sources which are somehow irreducible, that creation itself began in an extraordinary [[[burst] = [ejaculation]] of [male energy]]]. (The notion of the 'big bang', intended by astronomer Fred Hoyle originally as a joke, is only one of the more transparent expressions of this mythic proposition, for which astronomers seek evidence of its literal occurrence at the 'beginning of time'. The empirical outcome of this fantasy is by no means pre-ordained. It may turn out that 'bad myth', in this case too, makes 'bad science'.) The notion that the so-called religions of the West are distinctive in their monotheism should be immediately discarded, not just because it falsifies the literal mythology of these belief systems but because that aspect of the doctrinal emphasis eclipses their more fundamental message: that is, the notion of monogenesis, the idea of an 'original created reality'. This is a notion the Big Three share with the sky-god religions of antiquity (and with the male science of more enlightened times). What these systems turn out to have in common clearly overwhelms all arguable differences. The idea that nature and all matter came into existence at some singular moment in the past turns out to be the philosophical precept which overrides much else in Western thought and culture. We are mesmerized by a false analogy. We envision natural process as an improbable tree in which branches grow, at successive levels above the surface of the ground, into lofty and ever-increasing isolation from each other, an unlikely superstructure consisting of functionally independent elements which arise, to make an impossible metaphor even worse, from a 'root' which is the last word in simplicity and singularity: a trimmed affair which has no resemblance to the complex and encompassing lateral network which comprises the actual sub-surface structure of living plants. We see all history, art, politics, feeling, evolutionary process, disease, plus all other manifestations of human thought, action, feeling, experience as the continuous unfolding of complex structure from some primal cause, singular and remote! Clearly we do not wish to suggest that simple events do not have effects which are manifold, various, complex. But what is construed as linear complication and development from simple cause is, more often than not, a falsification of reality created under the selective lens of the prevailing ideology which seeks out past images of pristine simplicity (and singularity) in order to project them on the increasingly restricting screen of the collective imagination, where they function as a set of pruned-down imperatives, irreducible in their paradigmatic simple-mindedness, a sort of ultimate goal constituted in the mythic convergence of male virtues. It is evident that this precept involves us conceptually in a feedback which can be most destructive. The Christian concept of Paradise... The new system of privilege introduced, probably for the first time in human conceptualization, the twin notions of an original beginning and an ultimate end.(92) The astonishing result of this new construction of time is that the future is not envisioned as a state evolving out of (and dependent upon) the present, which is complex, but rather as movement toward a mythic end-state, one which seeks obsessively to duplicate an original condition of primal simplicity. The future, inspired by the past, thus shapes (and diminishes) experience of the present. It is likely that, in pre-patriarchal cultures of the forest, an encompassing present time provided the backdrop for all experience. So distinct was the experience of the present vis-a-vis what is, to the modern Western sensibility, the experience of the past, that events happening in the remote reaches of the latter were often visualized, by pre-patriarchal peoples, as occurring in some other time, in some temporal context wholly unrelated to (and non-continuous though sometimes running parallel with) the present, a present which was conceived, like the circle, as being self-contained, yet having the capacity for infinite accommodation of new and temporally remote experience. I have, at other points in the development of the present thesis, appealed to vestiges of this ancient conception in modern languages and cultures. The Spanish spoken in Central America retains explicit devices by which the present encompasses moments in time which the English-speaking sensibility may regard simply as the 'past' or the 'future'. The word 'horita' (truncated form of Standard Spanish 'ahorita') means both a 'short time ago' and a 'short time hence'. Thus it answers the question 'When did you arrive?' ('Horita' meaning 'Twenty minutes ago'); as well as the question 'When are you leaving?' ('Horita' meaning 'In twenty minutes'). The invention of the future... In marked expressions of the Western imagination, by contrast, the present becomes increasingly defined by factors external to itself. It enters into the service of something lying beyond its own conceptual reach. Formerly inclusive and fully encompassing, the present and all process becomes now dependent upon the 'future', a new creature of male virtue. The enduring and complex experience of present time, formerly vibrant with laterally extended meaning, becomes a mere means to re-create that primal male condition of simplicity, purity, and causal singularity as these were manifest in the original moment of creation. It is as though the visual-spatial skills associated with focus and an understanding of trajectory, to which patriarchy seems to have become fanatically devoted, found new application in a construction of time in which the spatially defined target was the future, with the future becoming, in turn, actualized as a representation of the mythic past. The simplification of nature (in the gross forms of environmental and human degradation) becomes thus the consequence of a continuous striving toward (and re-enactment of) the simplicity and, above all, the purity of a mythic beginning. And the degradation of the present... It is not surprising therefore that, in Indoeuropean (and pre-Indoeuropean) patriarchy, the concept of the now is progressively derogated. Devalued (and ultimately by-passed) in the cultural imagination, the now, formerly the only basis for the conceptualization of experience, became eroded and eventually overwhelmed by the mythic concept of the then, which embodies both past and future, both original cause and goal. Western consciousness construes the present as a merely theoretical intersection, or boundary, between past time and the future, a mere point on a continuum which divides itself into two segments. The present, formerly infinitely expansive and inclusive, is reduced in the language of politicians (who wish to underscore the limited and ephemeral nature of personal and collective responsibility for present action) to 'this point in time'. Unsurprisingly, the degradation of the enduring now has the consequence (this is its structural purpose so to speak) of appreciating and inflating further the worth and value of its mythic opposite. The artifactual Garden of Eden (of the mythic past) and the Moslem-Christian Paradise (of the mythic future) merge in that mysterious then: the conceptual-cultural repository of all value. Everything else -- all of earthly life including (especially) the complexities of present time and experience -- has diminished importance in late patriarchal myth, or so we are urged to believe. The behavior of the patriarch himself appears not to be constrained by these moral compunctions and considerations. On the contrary. While the rest of us are pondering the so-called future, and various then-states (which are inevitably out of reach), patriarchal acquisitiveness proceeds to exploit the resources of the earth as if the present were all that mattered. At its philosophical center, where one should expect to find concentrated its ethical meaning and moral purpose, patriarchy conceals a stupendous duplicity. It is sometimes said we offer our children no 'future'. The reality of this particular cultural tragedy is that our children, for whom we hypocritically profess 'concern' and 'feeling', have no present. Meanwhile, patriarchal hegemony doesn't confine itself to remote and philosophically primal events, such as the Garden of Eden (or the Big Bang for that matter), in its obsessional effort to manufacture singular cause out of the material of prior collective experience. It takes in all of the past through a selective lens which progressively and systematically strips away lateral connectedness, and complexity, as it adjusts its focus to ever greater depths in time. To support its mythic vision and conceit, Western science scans the past for any evidence of simple causation and singular origin. To be sure, in a purely empirical sense the search is fruitless. Try as it may, Western science seems never able to uncover that early stage (in biological evolution for example) which gives evidence of those simple beginnings from which all complex structure is supposed to have emerged. Where science expects to discover simple structure, it finds (more often than not) frustrating evidence of ever greater complexity. That simple beginning, so celebrated in patriarchal myth, seems forever to elude identification. Empirical reality fails to co-operate, it seems, with this central precept of the prevailing mythology. Moreover, the principle is kept alive by science writers, even when the practitioners of science themselves have become disaffected. (Time Magazine proclaims a philosophy of science so egregiously derived from the mythic precepts, upon which Western institutions rest, that the researchers themselves must cringe when reading its effusive and propagandistic accounts of their own research and progress.) A futile quest... While some astronomers appear still to cling to the mythic (read: ideological) precept of singular causation, high energy physics has long since laid to rest the Newtonian notion that matter is simple in its origins. The concept of the 'atom' as separate, original, irreducible, simple, singular in purpose and, like the male individual of Western Culture, only "...accidentally related to others whom it bumps into..." (in the charming summation of Evelyn Fox Keller), can probably be now immediately recognized, even by school children, for what it is: the obvious manipulation of scientific process and discourse by a self-serving political ideology. On the other hand, in places far removed from the studies and laboratories of academia, and industry, ordinary unscientifically inclined people derive solace from fantasies of a simple alternative to their own supposedly complex existence. For, in the typical pattern of conceptual derogation, complexity, that natural expression of present time, is deliberately con-fused with 'arduousness'. Complex is forced into increasingly fixed alignment with difficult and acquires a distinct pejorated value (which has the pernicious effect of blocking the assimilation and understanding of natural process). That the undeniable difficulty of modern life has little to do with its alleged 'complexity' is suggested by the fact that its primary symptoms are emptiness, dissociation, powerlessness, the sense of uselessness, the pervasive feeling of the individual that his/her energy is being drained away: all consequences surely not of complex social relation, in the organism's life, but its lack. In this false and distorted conceptualization complexity thus presents us with a seeming paradox. Perceived as 'bad', complexity is seen as arising from a condition of original simplicity and purity which is, in turn, perceived as 'good'... which brings us back to the hopeless conundrum posed by the biblical account of creation: despite His best effort (and alleged omnipotence), the Creator has managed to produce a world which is both 'complex' and burdened with 'sin'. The prevailing culture instills in us a false sense of natural process packaged in a derogated conception of the present. It inspires in us the need to re-create, again and again, the condition of original artifactual simplicity. The modern sentimental longing for a simpler time, which has become especially intense since the Industrial Revolution -- Biedermeier, William Morris, Arts and Crafts, back to the land, etc. -- stems in actual fact from a paucity of complexity (or 'connectedness') to nature and to other humans, not from too much, from deprivation not a surfeit of experience.
The urban fantasy of isolation... The need to escape a supposedly complex present reality (which is, in fact, a cruel simplification of experience, structurally analogous to incarceration in prisons) resurrects, intensifies, and distorts material adjacent to an earlier cultural event. Urban humanity, already deprived, in its present alienated circumstances, of complex relation, attempts to fill the conceptual-experiential void with fantasies of further isolation! Consider, for example, the typically American image of the isolated 'cabin in the wilderness', and similar symbolic structures derived from mythic simplifications of the literal past(93) which have soothed the imagination of a desperate urban population for who knows how long? Male 'bonding' mechanisms and institutions (the 'deer shack', for example, which is nearly obsessional among many American males of the Upper Great Lakes), even the image of the seasonal vacation 'retreat,' conjured and nourished by economically advancing yet sensually deprived city dwellers (engaged in an atavistic search for their own personal 'petit trianon'), or the isolated perfection embodied in the image of the nuclear family, ensconced in socially and environmentally disconnected (and disconnecting) suburbia: these all rise as tired manifestations of this same mythic distortion. Even the 'wilderness experience', much sought after by sophisticated and environmentally sensitive city-dwellers, tends often to be a fantasy constructed from this mythic falsification of experience. To meet their needs, the United States Department of Agriculture 'manages' wilderness, i.e., it turns 'wild nature' into human artifact. The complexity of a present painful time is exchanged for a future dream which is modeled on the simplicity and purity of an original condition. The dream arises from the diseased organism's genuine need to re-connect with nature, but the attempt to correct this defect, ubiquitously acknowledged as such, is nevertheless destined to fail. For it draws its inspiration from a false representation of the problem. Solutions to environmental disconnection, degradation, and social disorder would be freely forthcoming if their sources in the failed mythology of our culture could be recognized. To alleviate its symptoms of pain, and to bring order to an anomic present, an alienated humanity mines the past for reassuring images of simple causation and singular purpose. As in ancient metallurgy, this material is refined and purified, stripped of its polluted lateral connectedness, brought into an appropriately linear form which can serve as the inspiration for goal-oriented process and a patriarchal vision of the future. In the new conception of time, the past and the future (the former continuously re-processed to conform to the structural imperatives of the latter) manage eventually to squeeze out of existence the enduring present which was, and still is, the sole basis for the conceptualization of experience. In advanced patriarchy result obliterates process. The source of it all... A trivial news item recently caught my attention which nevertheless wonderfully captures the practical meaning, for wide segments of modern, disconnected America, of this 'mining' and 're-processing' of the past. We discover that a famed American astronaut is able to 'trace his ancestry back' to an individual who lived 375 plus years ago, to a male person who happens to have been one of the original signatories of the Mayflower Compact.(94) Given the ease and confidence, with which these words tumble from the tongues and lips of amateur genealogists, and from the media reporters who give their comments distribution (and sanction), one naturally takes for granted that there exists some hard evidence to back up such a remarkable claim as this one. A moment's reflection, however, reveals that the whole proposition is on quite shaky ground. Even if one assumes that the genealogical work was done 'correctly', and that a signatory of the Mayflower charter (i.e., a member of that small band of bigoted individuals who fled the growing liberalism -- and religious tolerance -- first of England, then of Holland) was indeed among the astronaut's biological antecedents, the claim that his (or anybody's) ancestry can be 'traced back' through twelve-to-eighteen-plus generations to a single individual is almost meaningless if not entirely nonsensical. It does, however, show the power of patriarchal myth to shape our imagination of the past and to distort our view of natural structure. As individuals we are, of course, the unique results of stupendously large numbers of discursive relationships (between other likewise unique individuals) which were entered into in the past, forming a massive cross-generational network which, from our individual vantage point, widens, and becomes laterally more complex (and resistant to study) as we move our attention back in time. So complex is the widening structure of our personal family diagram, as we direct our gaze back in time (and forward, from the vantage point of some early single antecedent), and so large the exponentially increasing numbers of its membership, that we quickly lose the ability to track the detail in this vast and unwieldy structure. At each generational remove from the present, our parentage doubles its numbers (two parents, four grandparents, eight great-grandparents, etc.), so that, at distances greater than a few generations into the past, structures begin to arise whose complexity frustrates the most determined record keeping, even when siblings are ignored and the examination confines itself to direct parental lineage. (In the actual and preferred construction, the genealogy is patrilineal [and thus simple],(95) but other social factors such as wealth, prominence, or political pre-eminence can force the recognition of female 'lines' which would be otherwise ignored, especially when these point forward [or back] to illustrious males. A case in point is the famous Wedgwood genealogy which, as often visualized, is understandably side-tracked to include the naturalist Charles Darwin whose mother was Susannah Wedgwood, daughter of Josiah. This family connection was reinforced by reason of Darwin's own marriage to Emma, his first cousin and granddaughter of the patriarch.
In general, however, side-branching involving females [and other socially degraded elements] is stripped away, the representation becoming thus streamlined in accordance with the mythic delineation of descent along an exclusively male line.) Certainly at a time depth of three-hundred-and-seventy-seven (377) years it is no longer meaningful to talk about being a direct descendant of anybody. If we assume that these three-and-three-quarters (3 3/4) centuries constitute fifteen (15) to eighteen (18) generations -- at twenty (20) years per generation we are rushing things a bit, but the reader probably gets our point -- then the American astronaut in question must count not only that original dauntless Mayflower voyager among his early seventeenth century antecedents but upwards of one-hundred-and-thirty-thousand (130,000) others as well (2 to the 17th power -- mostly English men and women who preferred to stay at home despite the inconvenience of the developing liberalism and perceived leniency of the political and intellectual climate), each of whom has precisely the same position, and should have the same importance, in the astronaut's family lineage as that early American 'puritan'. Now, if we move from this original complex parentage forward to the present time, the astronaut's biological connectedness to the rest of humanity challenges the imagination. It may well include much of the population of present-day England (and is likely expanding as you read this paragraph), while his laterally extended biology in the New World alone -- his blood relationship, so to speak, on the American continent -- is probably quite extensive too (even though it is traceable, supposedly, only to that single seventeenth [17th] century individual and [presumably] his wife, who was not mentioned in media accounts). One's actual genealogy is astounding in its rapidly encompassing nature operating, through succeeding generations, across the boundaries of variously differentiating cultural and economic categories and conventions, and so-called 'race', to assimilate and preserve, as biological structure at least, that mixture and complexity of constituency which the system of privilege denies at the level of social reality. Is not one's true genealogy -- conceptualized not as lineage but as lateral extension with all its propensity for multiplication of diversity and complex biological amalgamation -- the more suitable image and inspiration for a humanity victimized at the present time by cultural simplification, reduction, and personal isolation?(96) Let's stay with the topic a moment longer. One's biological lineage, as conventionally reconstructed, tends to throw all attention, focus, and value back on some individual in the distant past who, like the creator of patriarchal myth, was somehow the 'source of it all'. Although the desired effect of a genealogical research project is to strengthen appearance of an illustrious connection (where often little is apparent on the surface) and thus shore perhaps a shaky individual (or family) ego, the genealogizing descendant manages instead to create a formal structure for contemplating his-or-her own relative insignificance. The primary emphasis, after all, is not normally on the so-called descendant him-or-herself but (in a typical case) on a single noteworthy predecessor, if such can be discovered in the bewildering network which constitutes one's actual biological foreparentage. The very notion of descent attaches high value to the predecessor -- his status, accomplishments, intelligence, character, sometimes even his notoriety. Otherwise the genealogical undertaking (typically) fails its purpose, which is to exhibit the lowly 'descendant' as the reflected image -- as merely the reflected image, one should say -- of that high personage of the past. For we are dealing here with a central modeling principle of the system of privilege, the purpose of which is to create (and interminably re-create) the conceptual structures which allow us to see ourselves (and others) not as primary living and sentient beings, laterally connected to the real world of present experience, but as the mere reflection of some glorious moment in the so-called past. But is this the solitary effect of such a mode of conceptualization? to diminish the value of the present generation (in its own eyes) and thus inflate the image of the so-called forefather? Regretfully not. A selective process is at work, in most of these seemingly innocent exercises, which unfortunately reproduces metaphorically the social reality toward which the system strives in actual fact, thus giving sanction to these processes. As we have already suggested, genealogical reconstruction typically proceeds by (1) ignoring most of the so-called descendant's actual complex foreparentage and (2) choosing instead, when possible, some individual (usually male) antecedent, or assortment of antecedents, whom the descendant and/or family tradition have deemed worthy (by reason often of their success in the amassing of wealth, power, and/or worldly acclaim) of isolation and veneration, and (3) beginning the actual work of the genealogy with that (or those) individual(s) from the past and working forward toward the present. This is the curious reversal of vantage point which comes about in response to the mythic need to show 'simple' events as 'underlying' the emergence of complex surface phenomena (and as ennobling of these descendant structures). The very act of reversal trims away the worst of the lateral complication which otherwise clings to the genealogical material like encrusted debris, hampering the work of reconstruction, preventing a 'clean' tracing and view of the so-called descendant's so-called lineage. |
| It's in his genes... Naturally, when one begins to move forward from this early ancestor, all attention and focus is directed to the descendant him-or herself (though vantage remains fixed at that same point in the past). A massive pruning of horizontal appendage takes place once again, and the latter individual, and his/her immediate or extended family too, is eventually seen in grand isolation from the many thousands of other 'descendants' of that same progenitor. The practice of genealogy bears an extraordinary structural resemblance to the selective forces that are actually at work to raise certain individuals (and families) to prominence and continuity in the life of the community while shunting others to the side. To show that 'clean line' from glorious progenitor to reflected image requires a blindness to lateral structure in the proliferation of biological kinship relations. Our glance backwards, in search of that single noteworthy personage of the past, requires that we ignore many thousands of undistinguished foremothers (and forefathers); while, in tracing our lineage forward from that single chosen individual to the lonely isolation of ourselves (and our own 'families'), we must ignore our many thousands of cousins, so to speak, who live on earth as our remote, if unrecognized blood relatives, and have a claim of kinship to the afore-mentioned predecessor which is, clearly, at least as valid and 'direct' as our own. The news item about the astronaut and his Mayflower antecedent has the essential ingredients of a 'good story' in the sense that it faithfully re-creates the archetypal material of the myth of privilege, which introduces a second social function of the genealogizing effort. With this we conclude our discussion. The double lie, essential to its telling (and inherent in the concept of biological 'lineage'), establishes a raised causeway which leads from a noble beginning (the puritan of early American myth) to a noble end (i.e. the heroic American space traveler), endowing the latter with all the reflected virtues of the former. Here the rest of us poor mortals, with our drab and ordinary lives, are put in the place we belong. We are reduced to mere spectators in the unfolding of an epic narrative which seeks to restore material from our cultural past and collective 'heritage' and to employ it as stimulus to virtuous action of one type or another. The principal persona in this mythic re-enactment of male virtue is captured at a transitional moment which our culture holds in high esteem. We experience, with renewed awe, that instant in which the 'mother' -- the 'old world' in the former instannce, planet earth in the latter -- is abandoned, that moment just prior to the heroic 'piercing of the unknown', a mythic act which is ennobling of the subject (if sometimes painful to the object), the new continent of America, in the first instance, interplanetary space in the last. This renders palpable to moderns the ancient story of 'separation' from the old and the subsequent 'penetration' of the new, a mythic sequence which, though biologically rooted (as one among many primitive tendencies which echo as presumed 'distinctions' between the sexes), becomes now structurally paradigmatic, the principal inspiration not just for male action but for all human behavior and bearing. The alignments with value which patriarchy, and the pre-supposition of the superiority of male virtue, brings to conceptualization and culture lead us to inflate the meaning of certain pre-selected contemporary events (and personages) and to create a mythic tie-in with the past. The hardy 'puritan', in the primal instance, the heroic 'space traveler' in the most recent. The equation has a good 'feel'. We see the living astronaut as the natural heir to the 'right stuff'. (It must be in his genes!) |
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| Footnotes 1. Myth appears to have blinded Gananath Obeyesekere to the meaning of this historic encounter. See The Apotheosis of Captain Cook: European Mythmaking in the Pacific, Princeton University Press (1992), in which the Sri Lankan native (and American university professor of anthropology) takes sharp exception to Marshall Sahlins' construction of the event, the version I appeal to in the above paragraph. See Sahlins' summary of the famous dispute (and the restatement of his position) in How "Natives" Think... About Captain Cook, for Example, University of Chicago Press (1995), p. 6 and passim. 2. See discussion in Part II -- Chapter V. 3. A surface exception is Robert Edgerton's Sick Societies: Challenging the Myth of Primitive Harmony, New York and Toronto, The Free Press (1992). Note, however, that the book has its own mythic agenda. In observance of the acknowledged limits of his study (which accords with the mythic proscription discussed in the opening paragraphs of the present chapter), Edgerton stays scrupulously away from the 'sick' presentations of his own culture. 4. Jared Diamond has written interestingly on the cultural isolation of native Tasmanians. See "Why Did Human History Unfold Differently On Different Continents For The Last 13,000 Years?" A Talk By Jared Diamond, The Third Culture 5. 'Misdirected' in the sense that the islanders appear to have turned their rage against the material production of their mythic heritage rather than the myth itself (whatever this may have consisted in). 6. See Paul Bahn and John Flenley, Easter Island Earth Island, London: Thames and Hudson (1992), pp. 208-210. Island peoples seem prone to severe mal-adaptations, a probable consequence of diminished input to the selective process. 7. Richard Wrangham and Dale Peterson, Demonic Males: Apes and the Origins of Human Violence (New York; 1996), pp. 193-94. 8. See the book Bonobo (appropriately sub-titled): the Forgotten Ape, Berkeley, University of California Press (1997) by Frans de Waal and Frans Lanting. For the word 'forgotten' in the book's subtitle one might substitute 'suppressed'. Be that as it may, if not already acquainted with this provocative and splendidly illustrated book, the reader has a special treat in store. 9. Primary sources... Nature and other journals. 10. See The Astonishing Hypothesis: The Scientific Search for the Soul (Scribner, New York 1994). Some readers may be disappointed to discover that Crick's essay has little to do with matters of the 'soul', in the sense in which this concept is employed by New-Age philosophers and others. 11. "The Declining Empire of Apes," in Eight Little Piggies, Jonathon Cape: London (1993) pp. 284-95. 12. Tattersall, etc. See discussion in Part Two -- Chapter 6, pp. . 13. In these pages the word 'concept' is given a very wide berth. It encompasses all meanings, individual and 'clustered' -- that is, both 'isolated' (to the extent this is imaginable) and 'assimilated' -- which the human being (or other organism) derives from particular 'moments of experience'. The word 'concept' is lexically interchangeable with 'image', whatever its sensory derivation. Accordingly, 'conceptual' is the equivalent of 'imaginal' (a word which has gained currency in depth psychology but may be unfamiliar to some readers). In these pages 'feelings' and 'sensations' are 'concepts (as Damasio has reminded us). And 'to conceptualize' means 'to imagine' -- that is, to draw meanings derived from the particular moment of experience into clustered association with meanings derived from other moments of experience, meanings which are stored in the neural networks of the brain. To 'conceptualize' is to form the 'node-link structures' said to underlie all associative cognition. See Lumsden-Wilson (1983), pp. 79-83. 14. See the previous footnote. 15. We sometimes hear people say they are 'night persons'. Despite the obvious fact that such people, by preference, spend a certain significant portion of the hours in question awake and would thus seem (on the surface) to 'value' the night over the day, they tend, as a group, to reject its dark solitude which may be the essence of the nocturnal experience for transitional mammals. Such 'persons of the night' use these hours for intense conviviality (i.e. interaction with others which borders, sometimes, on frenzy), for actions which depend, in any case, upon an illuminated environment. They go out of the way to re-create conditions which may have been antithetical to the 'concept' for the evolving diurnal creature. The 'night life', which such persons seek, does not have, as its structural paradigm, the primal experience of the night (which, for the solitary transitional mammal, may have been touched with fear and apprehension) but constitutes, in fact, its ultimate degradation, the nearly total transformation of a despised 'night' into 'day'. The 'night person' (apologies to Woody Allen who amusingly cites this condition of mind as the primary reason New Yorkers live in New York 'and not Duluth') is the colonizer of the night not its mythic re-generator, the transformer of the 'night' into an artifactual replica of its 'nemesis'. Such a person becomes thus the annihilator, not the explorer, of the primitive nocturnal state. For other 'night persons', by contrast, this period does seem to remain a time for solitary functions, though these tend often to consist of activities (household and personal chores typically) performed in an illuminated setting. In their affection for quiet and solitude but, at the same time, giving nocturnal vent to the busy daylight strivings of our species, such persons would seem to comprise a mixed assortment, not so much 'colonizers' of the night as perhaps silent 'intruders'. 16. Language can come, at moments of eerie perspicacity, so close to a convincing account of the effects of such inputs (on the full discursive apparatus of the body) as to belie my principal claim. In a lecture on the 'Geography of Identity' (given at the University of Michigan's Institute for the Humanities in October 1993) Anne Stevenson quoted an extraordinary passage from English artist Gwen Raverat, who describes visits she paid as a child to Down House in Kent, home of her grandfather Charles Darwin: "The path in front of the veranda was made of large round waterworn pebbles, from some sea beach. They were not loose, but stuck down tight in moss and sand, and were black and shiny, as if they had been polished. I adored those pebbles. I mean literally, adored; worshiped. This passion made me feel quite sick sometimes. And it was adoration that I felt for the foxgloves at Down, and for the stiff red clay out of the Sandwalk clay-pit; and for the beautiful white paint on the nursery floor. This kind of feeling hits you in the stomach, and in the ends of your fingers, and it is probably the most important thing in life. Long after I have forgotten all my human loves, I shall still remember the smell of a gooseberry leaf, or the feel of the wet grass on my bare feet; or the pebbles in the path. In the long run it is this feeling that makes life worth living, this which is the driving force behind the artist's need to create." Quoted in Anne Stevenson, Between the Iceberg and the Ship: Selected Essays, Ann Arbor, The University of Michigan Press (1998), p. 162. 17. The matter of the fragmentation of experience through language was treated at length in Part One -- Chapter II and will be revisited in the present chapter in connection with symbolic representation. 18. See Part Two -- Chapter VI of the present writing: Language, Myth, and the Loss of the Interior Perspective. 19. These passages were written in Grand Marsh, Wisconsin, but the building itself is an import from the Lake Superior region of Michigan where I lived for two decades. The style of the particular log building -- the lateral joinder of logs through 'scribing' and their corner interconnection by means of dovetails with compound angles -- is that found on the typical homestead of Finnish immigrants to the Upper Great Lakes in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Logwork and assembly of the bathhouse shown in Plate III is the work of Scot Cadeau and the author. The opening to the firebox is located on the back wall of the building and not visible in the photo. 20. To be sure, in the developing Indoeuropean sensibility 'spirit' would undergo a further assimilation to 'male virtue'. At the same time, the image was counterposed to 'mindless nature' which was invidiously conceived and associated with the human female. And since life failed to exist apart from consciousness (cf. Latin spiritus from Proto-Indoeuropean *[s]peis- meaning 'to blow' or 'breath life into'), one readily sees how procreation became logically (and mythically) associated with the human male. Male consciousness, the highest virtue in the patriarchal gallery of virtues, was the singular 'source of life' (an idea I will explore in the concluding portions of this chapter). 21. Charles J. Lumsden and Edward O. Wilson, Promethean Fire: Reflections on the Origin of Mind (Cambridge, Massachusetts; 1983), p. 119. 22. Yves Coppens, "East Side Story: the origin of Humankind," Scientific American (May 1994), pp. 62-69. 23. Steven Mithen, The Prehistory of the Mind: the Cognitive Origins of Art, Religion, and Science, London; Thames and Hudson (1996), p. 125. Mithen cautions, however, that "...Pleistocene faunal assemblages often have a very poor chronological resolution and are invariably palimpsests. The recent data from ice cores tell us that there were many short-lived, but quite marked, environmental fluctuations, during which certain species may temporarily have extended their range. Consequently the idea that such diverse communities (as opposed to assemblages) were a typical feature of the Pleistocene may be unfounded" (Chapter 7, Note 23). 24. There is a difference of opinion on whether the expansion in question was continuous, beginning approximately two million years B.P. and ending, perhaps, as recently as fifty thousand years ago, or took place in 'spurts', the first with homo habilis and the second with the appearance of archaic homo sapiens and the Neanderthals. The difficulty is the paucity of fossil skulls, particularly from 1.5 to .5 million years B.P., the period which saw the emergence of homo erectus and its dispersal across Africa and southern portions of Eurasia. This issue will be reviewed in a later context. 25. In literature on the topic much is made of the apparent fact that humans made the crossing from Southeast Asia to Australia between sixty and forty-thousand years B.P. The logical inference has been that the enabling factor in this momentous achievement was some innovation in maritime technology. It is assumed additionally that this 'invention' saw the light of day in the period immediately preceding the crossing. In the view of some it marks the beginning -- here we are on less secure footing -- of a 'cultural explosion' for which modern humans were responsible. 26. To engage in conjectures about distinctions of physical type, which representatives of the two cultures may (or may not) have displayed, merely clouds the central issue. The fact that the one population was technically more 'advanced' by no means implies that they were anatomically 'different', i.e., more 'modern'. 27. The idea that humanity evolved in exclusive association with life on the savanna has been now pretty much abandoned in favor of a scenario which places the evolutionary line in a mixed setting of woodland and open space. 28. The sciences which purport to study the social behavior of humans hew to the mythic program of the prevailing culture and view strangers, inevitably, as enemies. However, the comparative study of language reveals a time when the stranger was not merely the negative entity in a neo-Darwinian juxtaposition of opposed interests. Reconstructed Indoeuropean gives evidence of a psycho-cultural transformation in which the human encounter with the 'unfamiliar', initially 'neutral', is reduced to simple pairings of opposed images, one of which is commonly derogated while the other is eventually extolled. As evidence of the benign stage in this transitional process, we have 'host' and 'guest', two ordinary English cognates (of diverse derivational histories which we have no need to go into here) which have a common ancestral forebear in the reconstructed IE *ghostis with its presumed generic meaning of 'stranger'. Note, however, that the social division, which this change already demonstrates, is not yet contentious. But before long the 'host/guest' turns 'hostile', the latter English word being a borrowing derived, apparently, from the same Indoeuropean root. Latin hostilis (< hostis) means enemy (whereby the peculiar situation arises in which the fully incompatible structures 'hostile' and 'hostel', descendants of the same ancestral formation, exist side-by-side). Enmity is introduced as a simplifying element and the 'unfamiliar' is categorically derogated. In other words, a potentially rich opportunity for expansion of the personal and collective 'self' (see Part I -- Chapter One) yields to a much simpler construction of a reality perceived now in black and white -- as 'alien'. In accordance with this new exclusive view of the world external to human experience accommodation is no longer necessary (or even possible). The foundation is laid for the institutionalized racism of modern society (though racism is only a single example of this far-reaching derogation of the unfamiliar). The word 'alien' itself, with its modern semantic overlay of negative meaning, shows the same process by which 'difference' was pejorated in cultures ancestral to our own. Its IE base *al-, meaning 'the one yonder' (surviving in the harmless form 'else' of Modern English and the objective forms el, ella, and ellos of Modern Spanish) appears not to have exhibited a negative alignment with value in its proto-typical forms. The concept remained unpejorated as late as Old English. El-land referred merely to the condition of 'being abroad', being away from home, a meaning it shared with certain similar structures of medieval German. The modern German reflex of such structures -- the adjective elend -- designates, by contrast, a state of unrelieved 'misery'. The 'unfamiliar' is now looked upon with dread. 29. The animist discourse with nature has long been regarded, by the sophisticated, as an embarrassing remnant of nineteenth century European sentimentalism. When animist dispositions are met with -- it is inevitable that researchers encounter them for they are ubiquitous in human language and culture -- the modern tendency in the social sciences is to trivialize their occurrence, to dismiss them as 'anthropomorphic' oddities of one kind or another; or, even worse to my way of thinking, to attempt to 'explain' them in terms of 'practical reason'. For a cogent "...anthropological critique of the idea that human cultures are formulated out of practical activity and, behind that, utilitarian interest" see Marshall Sahlins Culture and Practical Reason, Chicago; The University of Chicago Press (1976), quoted material from p. vii. 30. The concept of 'multiple intelligences' is probably right and wrong at the same time. It becomes obvious, because evolutionary process builds structure upon existing structure, that every organism, and every part of an organism, ends up as an amalgam of the old and the relatively new, each devoted originally (the key-word) to a particular function or aggregate of functions. Thus the human brain has evolved as a complex structure divided into 'regions', each of which may mark a particular stage of evolutionary progress. However, to assume, from this, that thought process remains 'divided' along similar lines is not always defensible. It fails to take into account the continuous re-integration which appears to characterize the evolution of function and form in the living organism. 31. See Mithen, p. 192. 32. It has been assumed that H. habilis and H. erectus owed their larger brain sizes to the increasing complexity of social interactions as reflected in larger group sizes, a circumstance which could, for practical reasons of time limitations, have led, eventually, to a distancing in social relations: i.e., the gradual replacement of physical grooming by vocal and gestural systems of discourse (see Aiello and Dunbar). 33. In the adoption of this premise, the lack of arguments to the contrary are the sure indication of its origin in myth. 34. The idea that human brain function has an external platform should not be difficult for twenty-first century specimens to imagine for whom much storage and processing of information, the pertinence of which in the maintenance of the living system can hardly be contested, takes place independently of the functions of the body proper. See Merlin Donald, Origins of the Modern Mind, Cambridge MA; Harvard University Press (1991). See also the footnote below. 35. In his book The Prehistory of the Mind: the Cognitive Origins of Art, Religion and Science, London; Thames and Hudson (1996), Steven Mithen discusses the presumed mnemonic function of art: "...a tool for storing information and for helping to retrieve information stored in the mind" (p. 170). The applicability of this explanation can be extended to culture in general. 36. In the first chapter of the above publication (p. 12) the author provides a handy graphic summary of estimated brain sizes for the last 4 million years of human evolution. His presentation is based on L. Aiello and R.I.M. Dunbar, "Neocortex size, group size and the evolution of language," Current Anthropology 34 (1993), pp. 184-93, and L. Aiello, "Terrestriality, bipedalism and the origin of language," in The Evolution of Social Behaviour Patterns in Primates and Man, ed., J. Maynard -Smith, London (1996 in press). This material will be discussed later in some detail. 37. Although the case has been made (Chomsky et al) that language has an innate substructure of grammatical meaning, the lexicon of a language is essentially artifactual in composition. It imposes a distinctly cultural imprint on human perception (though it, too, bears traces of its origin in a common biology). Thus the lexicon of a language, which the naive might believe provides the sole key to the meaning conveyed, shares space with the material culture of a people in that it exists, to a certain (and greatly variable) extent, outside the 'minds' of the individual speakers and their linguistic competence. In the context of modern social relations, and within the variable capacity of the individual speaker, the lexicon of a language divides itself into that part which is fully assimilated, or productive, and that which is held in reserve (or protected) by other individuals and by social institutions of one kind and another. The latter is sometimes relatively accessible by means of dictionaries or to those with special skills developed through special training; but parts of the lexicon are often hopelessly out of reach of ordinary individuals. These must engage the assistance of priests and professionals to determine the meaning of the words which define and circumscribe the routine of their mundane existence. The ratio of the productive to the non-productive portion of the lexicon varies greatly among individuals, and from language to language, and is an inverse measure of the fragmentation existing in the discourse of a community. This ratio is generally high in all pre-literate communities and may approach one (1) in societies which do not know the division of labor by gender (e.g. the people Tacitus described and identified as the Fenni). (Division of labor has meant, traditionally, a division of discourse.) For the English language/culture this ratio is perhaps the lowest on earth. The second edition of the Oxford English Dictionary contains more than twenty-thousand (20,000) pages and over six-hundred-thousand (600,000) entries, only a small fraction of which are even recognized by individuals! 38. Humans inherit two copies of nuclear genes, one from each parent. However, mitochrondrial DNA is passed only from the mother to the child. Thus every person's mtDNA is descended through female ancestors and, allowing for predictable mutations over time, relatively stable. It becomes thus theoretically possible to calculate the times at which related populations have diverged. Extracting mtDNA from skeletal remains uncovered one-hundred-and-fifty (150) years ago in the Neander Valley of Germany, scientists claimed to demonstrate "...that the Neanderthal hominid was not related to human ancestors... that the Neanderthal DNA sequence falls outside the normal variation of modern hominids" (Sean Henehan, Cell, University Park, PA [10 July 1997). Other researchers immediately questioned this conclusion, though it was later 'corroborated' by DNA from another individual, pointing out that most humans are as divergent from each other as they are from the Neanderthals from whom the samples were taken. If the Neanderthals were not human, then what about those individuals living today whose mtDNA is so divergent from the norm? Are they not human either? See Footnote #41 for conclusions of a recent scholarly conference on this topic
39. In the view of some, the 'cultural explosion' of the Upper Paleolithic (presumed to have taken place around 40,000 years B.P.) was due to "...some change in the wiring of the brain that enabled [modern] humans to innovate, think symbolically, and make art." Thus nature did not equip Neanderthals with the mental wherewithal to produce an advanced material culture. Anthropologist Richard Klein (Stanford University) states this 'exclusivist' position succinctly and unambiguously: "I want the Neanderthals to be biologically incapable of modern behavior," he insists, acknowledging that recent disclosures from Neanderthal residue at Arcy-sur-Cure (which imply an innate capacity for artistic expression) may cause difficulty for the theory he and others defend. Quotes in the foregoing are from a paper by Tim Appenzeller (who himself remains neutral on this most contentious of topics): "Art: Evolution or Revolution?" Science, 1998 282:1451. In subsequent pages I shall approach this issue along a rather different path, with reference, namely, to the disparate functions of 'symbol' and 'metaphor' in human cognitive evolution. The view disclosed here sees 'art' and the emergence of 'symbol' as probable symptoms of social malfunction (which Neanderthals may or may not have shared as a group). 40. In African Exodus: the Origins of Modern Humanity (London 1996) authors Christopher Stringer and Robin McKie quote Ofer Bar-Yosef and Bernard Vandermeersch in this vein: "...the Neanderthals were adapted to cold, as their compact bodies attest, but even they could not brave the Arctic conditions that occurred, in fairly sudden cold snaps, during the period between 115,000 and 65,000 years ago. The intense cold might have forced them southwards... perhaps through modern-day Turkey or the Balkans." Anthropologist Stringer and Journalist McKie (who do not note the published source of the preceding quote) go on to ask: "...if they headed south, what did modern humans do? More suited to sunnier climes, they may well have found both a cooler Levant, and Neanderthals, just too much to bear [emphasis added] and temporarily lost their foothold there, making room for the Neanderthals" (p. 99). 41. If the world were reasonable (and the journalism less in thrall to the dictates of the myth of modern human supremacy), a rather different picture of the Upper Palaeolithic might be available for public consideration. As the more serious minded of researchers struggle to separate fact from fiction, and to understand what actually took place at this crucial moment in human evolutionary history, many of the old stories turn out to have problems which would be instantly fatal in a healthy climate of inquiry. Let me review briefly the summary statement of an 'International Workshop' convened last year by the Neanderthal Museum at Mettmann Germany. (The popular media seem to have taken little notice of the event.) There is no longer reason, the concluding statement reads, to believe that the change from Neanderthal to anatomically modern humans was responsible for the technological transformation which characterizes the transition from Middle to Upper Palaeolithic. European Neanderthals, whose intellectual endowment was the equal of moderns ("...deren kognitive Leistungsfähigkeit mit der des anatomisch modernen Menschen als gleichwertig betrachtet werden kann"), contributed substantially to this transformation and were the bearers of an early Upper Paleolithic culture before modern humans were present in Europe. The idea, moreover, that post-contact Neanderthals were a besieged people, who took refuge in the periphery of their former territory ("...in Randbereichen ihres Verbreitungsgebietes") is also no longer tenable. Carbon-14 datings of skeletal remains from the Central European site of Vindiija in Croatia show the presence of Neanderthals as recently as 28,000 years BP. Moreover, these findings impressively confirm the fact that Neanderthals and anatomically modern humans lived in intimate [and apparently non-hostile] association with each other. [This finding should have taken nobody by surprise: archaeological sites in the Near East had already indicated as much. See previous footnote.] On the question of the mtDNA evidence for a species boundary [the research findings cited in the previous footnote], the workshop concluded that the two groups of humans can not be separated on the basis of those findings ("...eine Trennung von Neanderthalern und anatomisch modernen Menschen in zwei verschiedenen Arten [ist nicht möglich] auf basis dieser Daten"). And finally, participants in the workshop were in agreement that anatomically modern humans can not be placed in Europe before 33,000 years B.P., although the location of their initial appearance can not be determined with accuracy. The statement concludes that we lack well dated evidence of anatomically modern humans precisely for the period 40,000 to 30,000 years B.P. [i.e., for that period in particular which is supposed to have witnessed the 'cultural explosion' dear to the hearts of the popular media and many scientists themselves who attribute this cultural outpouring to modern humanity]. In the foregoing summary, bracketed language and observations are my own. For the complete text see Central and Eastern Europe from 50,000 -- 30,000 B.P. -- International Workshop (March 18-21, 1999), http://www.neanderthal.de, Website des Neanderthal Museum, Mettmann. 42. The Eurasians I speak of were populations of Neanderthals alone or Neanderthals living in association with anatomically modern individuals. 43. The beginning sentence of the quoted material reads in full: "When groups significantly exceed this intermediate size, it becomes increasingly difficult to co-ordinate their members' behaviour through personal contacts alone." 'Difficult' for whom? Note that the language chosen to describe the transition in question conceals the identity of the effective agent. The subject of the main clause seems no longer to be the community itself but some entity not directly revealed through grammatical process. The condition of heteronomous control, into which community inevitably lapses through the operation of the mechanism Aiello and Dunbar intelligently discuss, is anticipated by the very language they employ to describe this state of impending crisis (and the subsequent transformation of social function it entails). Under normal circumstances it is, of course, or at least should be, the group itself which finds it 'difficult to co-ordinate the behavior' of its members. But the other interpretation better suits the mythic precepts by which we live. In this more powerful alternative rendering the community is passive, subject to the influence of some unnamed force, or constraint, which hovers ominously in the background; though the lack of clarity, with respect to the location and identity of the experiencing subject, makes either choice appear plausible. The difference between the two constructions raises the important question of mythic vantage. As a simple thought experiment, consider how different is the meaning conveyed by an essentially disambiguated paraphrase of the above: 'At this point the members of the group have increasing difficulty co-ordinating their behavior through personal contacts alone...' Here the community itself remains, for a brief moment at least, the explicit subject of its own social history. Though soon thereafter, the greater density of population permits the intrusion of the alien principle Aiello and company allude to in the above (though myth may prevent them from recognizing its pathogenic character). The once vital 'creator' of the collective endeavor is deposed. As Foucault might have said, community becomes the mere 'object' of evolutionary process. 44. The metaphor preferred by Steven Mithen (1996) who accepts, in the main, the Aiello-Dunbar view that increasing encephalization proceeded in two stages in the human evolutionary experience. 45. Quoted by Mithen (1996), p. 21. 46. The first 'improvement' in question is the Levallois technique for removing, from the stone 'core', flakes or points of a particular predetermined shape and size. This the practitioners accomplished by carefully preparing the core from which the flakes were struck. The Levallois method makes its initial appearance in the archaeological record around 250,000 years B.P. and appears to have become widespread in Africa, the Near East, and in Europe. The second 'improvement' is the hafting of stone tools, a technique which appears for the first time in association with the culture of the lowly Neanderthal, so naturally little is made of this truly ground-breaking innovation. 47. It is obvious that the mere choice of words may indicate, positively or negatively, the rough position of the researcher vis-a-vis the ideological structure in question. We discover that the language with which the 'twin increases' in brain size is noted is necessarily positively charged. I hope I do not trivialize the discussion by saying that our culture holds the flow of events to be virtuous if accomplished in a 'strong and steady (and intelligently directed) stream', or in 'spurts' or 'bursts', as in the characterization in question. (To help gauge the value of the mythic structure in question consider one of its manifestations and its intended effect on the popular imagination. I have in mind a familiar fixture of modern political discourse, the image of 'bombs bursting in air' which enjoins one and all to positive identification with structures of power.) In significant contrast, we discover that the event is derogated when characterized by 'tiny discharges' ('oozing', 'dribbling', and 'drooling') or actual 'blockage', i.e., when the 'secretion' is impeded altogether, the worst of all possible circumstances from the vantage point of the prevailing myth! It is hardly fortuitous that in the culture of Western patriarchy, in which the moral tenor of a goodly assortment of these images was established, the two affirmed forms of discharge are associated with male urination and ejaculation respectively. It is interesting, moreover, that evolutionary biologists and others consider 'stasis', the condition toward which the healthy community strives in the natural course of events, to be an entirely lifeless and lackluster affair. 48. The reader is reminded, to return to a matter already touched upon, that in the inverted logic of the evolutionary sciences 'simple' is often regarded as 'complex'. Thus the emergence of 'hierarchy' in social dispensations is accepted uncritically as evidence of increasing 'complexity'. It is never thought to reflect the trimming and leveling of experience which centralization of function invariably produces as a secondary effect. 49. Following T. Deacon ("The Neural circuitry Underlying Primate Calls and Human Language" in Language Origin: A Multidisciplinary Approach [ed. J.Wind, B. Chiarelli, B. Bichakjian & A. Nocentini] Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers [NATO AI Serie -- Series D: Behavioural and Social Sciences, vol. 61, pp. 121-162) Aiello lists various 'unique aspects' of human language, among which is its 'symbolic nature': "Combinations of sounds, whether at the level of a word, or a string of words, have complex meanings that are easily recognized by the community of speakers of a particular language but are arbitrary in relation to the object or concept that they represent" ("Terrestriality, Bipedalism and Language" in Evolution of Social Behaviour Patterns in Primates and Man, edited by W.G.Runciman, John Maynard Smith & R.I.M.Dunbar, Oxford University Press [1996], pp. 269-289). This inventory of 'unique' properties of human language necessarily ignores the dimension of metaphor which, significantly, encompasses forms of animal communication in addition to human language. 50. Stephen Jay Gould's upbeat designation for the species which is the present focus of our attention ("The Declining Empire of Apes," in Eight Little Piggies, Taylor and Francis: London, pp. 284-95). 51. Here we may cite research findings which indicate that the cutting edges of the primitive hand-axes and scrapers give evidence of multiple applications... 52. Limited in the sense that human society was probably becoming not just complex but also far-flung, with the unfortunate result, for present day researchers, that the number of individuals, with whom one typically spent one's days or nights, can not be seen as a measure of the extent of one's vital social relationships (and is thus largely irrelevant and/or misleading as an indicator of a need for language, as some have suggested, to supplement physical grooming). My male ancestors in Finland were away from 'home' for half the year. They hunted and trapped from late fall to early spring, during which time they had no contact with children and female members of their own families. More recently, my paternal grandfather, in the first decades of the twentieth century, left home for half the year to work in the lumber camps of Northern Wisconsin. The only female they saw during this time was the camp cook. 53. Frans de Waal has reminded us that 'nests' serve mostly in the social domain. Citing the work of enthnologists Barbara Fruth and Gottfried Hohman in Lomako Forest de Waal writes that "...nests represent a private area that cannot be infringed upon, not even by the nest maker's closest companions..." He notes that this "...allows females to wean offspring and force them to nest elsewhere when they have reached the age to do so. It also allows the avoidance of conflict through the use of nests as a refuge." De Waal notes instances documented by Fruth and Hohmann "...in which bonobos feeding on favorite foods responded to the approach of a companion by quickly breaking off a few branches and constructing a rudimentary nest. While sitting in the nest, they were not bothered or displaced by the others..." (De Waal-Lanting, p. 158). 54. To be sure, this invitation to work might have been extended by means of vocal signals alone; or by simply approaching the animal and establishing direct physical contact, a method which is 'manipulative' in the basic meaning of the word, that is, accomplished through the use of the 'hands', i.e. without 'tools'. But that was not the animal's training in the case I cite. Whether in language or in the application of technology, the preference of Latins, as they seek to establish and maintain relations with the non-human world, seems to be to employ mechanisms which are distinctly alienating (if, at the same time, relatively non-coercive). If the Anglo-American 'approach to the world' is hands-on, the approach of Latins is definitely hands-off. To the Latin sensibility, the 'world out there' appears, in some significant measure, as an autonomously functioning entity, something to be approached, always, with a degree of reserve.I believe this predisposition is the result of a weakened 'subject-object' relation in the mythic underpinnings of the collective experience, a fact which is evident even in my friend's use of the 'lariat' [from Spanish 'la reata' < 'reatar' meaning to re-connect or re-attach]! See discussion of this issue in Part One -- Chapter Two. 55. Many religions, particularly those of the Near East, were, in fact, constructed on the proposition that the earth, though given primal shape through the initial act of Divine creation, requires further modification through human impetus and action. In this view, which provides (by the way) the moral justification for the plundering of the earth and its resources, an artifactual universe transcends that which is 'merely natural': "So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them. And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth... And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good." (Genesis 27-31.) 56. The use of a 'needle' introduces, in modern English, the sense that the object, upon which the procedure is performed, is pierced or punctured. It is likely that a usage (in Indo-European if not Germanic itself) which predates this sense of a necessary breach of the surface integrity of the primary stuff of production, was a meaning associated with the spinning (and weaving) of textiles. Here the tool was likely aligned, conceptually, with the surface integration of the material, not its violation. The meaning may have been closer to 'needle', as in 'knitting needle'. 57. My father was a machinist for all his working life. Upon retirement he left this trade behind (and with it the old-fashioned world of 'slide-rules', micrometers, lathes and milling machines) and became a wood-worker. In his new frame of mind the directly tangible took precedence over abstract calculation and the reading of instruments. I asked him to explain this striking change of occupational allegiance. His answer was simple enough and couched, significantly, within the framework of an animated discourse. Wood was, he said, 'more forgiving'. 58. The Astonishing Hypothesis: the Scientific Search for the Soul (New York; 1994). 59. 'I see' we say at that moment when facts appear to rhyme with reason) 60. The object in question, obviously complete in itself, has no feet. It was clearly not intended to be stood upright on some flat surface. 61. Consider, for example, the use of beads in prayers by Catholics to the virgin deity (or, for purposes of useful additional comparison, the function of the visual image in much modern pornography). 62. The 'mount' is a 'mountain', Mount Sinai. 63. Note that the Biblical injunction against 'graven images' applied only to three-dimensional representations. Graphic depictions of nature (with their uneventful two-dimensional surfaces and sole appeal to visual perception) seem not to have posed a theological problem. It should be mentioned, parenthetically, that the 'worship of nature' was a convenient catch-all for all residue of Pagan discourse, even sexual contacts not regulated by law. It is said that the crime of Jezabel (the wife of King Ahab) was that she sought to re-introduce 'nature worship' to Biblical society, though the actual legacy of this hated woman has been her 'licentiousness', i.e. her discursive freedom. 64. What Christians and others, through the ages, have had to say about Pagan 'worship of objects' can be pretty much discounted as the self-serving pronouncements of folks with their own (supposedly) monotheistic agenda. When missionaries first encountered the Sami of northern Scandinavia, they noted their 'worship' of 'momentary gods'. By this they meant, it appears, the chance encounters these boreal folk had with the most ordinary objects in their environment and the cognitive use they made of these mundane encounters. The image of an object, selected in this way by chance, appears to have stayed with them, for a day at a time, as the focus of meditation. Hence its status (in the eyes of the Christian missionaries, at least, who saw 'gods' everywhere) as a 'god of the moment'. 65. You're so good I could eat you, adults tell little children. 66. Lewis Binford, Bones: Ancient Men and Modern Myths (1981). 67. Although the quoted material does not provide sufficient context to indicate the time-frame she has in mind, the belief of the authors (Stringer and McKie), apparently, is that Aiello refers here to an event which transpired during the tenure of homo erectus. It was at this time, presumably, that a process of digestive diminution begins: "Homo erectus was the first hominid to have barrel-shaped rib cages which open out to make way for the lungs, and then contract over small gut areas" (African Exodus, pp. 35-36). 68. Jared Diamond, Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies, Norton (1997), pp. 144-145. 69. The aggressive logging of the white pine forests, a high-grading process which left mounds of trash consisting of top portions of trees, side branches, debris from road clearing, etc., had turned much of Northern Wisconsin into a tinder box. In 1871 an exceptionally dry summer and fall culminated, during the night of October 8th (the same evening, co-incidentally, as the outbreak of the famous 'Chicago fire'), in a conflagration which has been called the worst catastrophe in the history of the Middle West. Estimates range from 800 to 1200 humans killed in the fire itself, not counting the hundreds who died of burns and other trauma in the weeks and months which followed. Growing up in this area, seventy years later, we continued to refer to this disaster simply as 'the fire' or the 'Peshtigo fire', a reference to a town near Marinette in which half the population perished. (Web-sites now refer to it as the 'Great Peshtigo Fire'.) Needless to say, the 'Chicago Fire', with its $200,000,000 in property damage (but no loss of human life), is the event which has captured the popular imagination and the attention of the nation's historians. 70. See Part Two -- Chapter III -- Section B of this writing for a review of the possible function of these 'semi-domestic' animals in the lives of pre-agricultural Europeans. 71. The dramatic effect Wagner had in mind was often accomplished, more directly and far more subtly, in 'song': in the simple union of music and 'words' by which the former, through natural associative process and repetition, appears to acquire some of the referential content of the latter. But here, too, the most effective fusion of the two modes of discourse is accomplished through metaphor. 72. Red wine and bread, significantly, are artifacts, the products of mundane domestic affairs. In their choice of symbols, the religions of the Near East tended to avoid objects which had a strong association with the world of 'nature'. 73. The word 'swastika', from Sanscrit svastika (meaning 'health' or 'well-being'), was not in general use by the Nazis who preferred the German designation 'Hakenkreuz' which is purely descriptive. 74. The appearance of the 'square', essentially unknown in nature (outside the mysterious domain of crystal-formation the distinctive outcomes of which were probably invisible to early human perception), marks the emergence and eventual triumph of 'male geometry' in the perception of the cultural landscape. The sources, in metaphor, of the 'quaternary' are obscure, though its political-ideological content, as a mode of containment which somehow superseded the 'circle' (which was associated, seemingly universally, with 'nature' and the human female), is perhaps obvious. In the patriarchal architecture of the Near East the square frequently serves as a foundational structure which 'encloses' the circle. For all the nonsense about the 'Pagan origins' of German National Socialism, it is significant that Nazi propagandists chose, as symbol of their party, an image which had long-standing identification not with 'nature' and the human female but with patriarchy. See following footnote. 75. The direction of the movement appears to be significant. In ancient representations (Old and New World alike) the movement was usually from 'right-to-left' (counter-clockwise) in the viewer's perspective, whereas the Nazi version of the symbol runs consistently from 'left-to-right', in, perhaps, stricter obedience to the dictates of patriarchal convention. (In the mythology of emerging patriarchy the left side of the body was viewed as 'weak', ultimately castigated and associated with the human female. In this perception, movement from 'right-to-left' was 'bad' while movement in the opposite direction was mythically affirmed.) 76. And, by metaphoric extension, the beginnings and ends of process, life and death, etc. 77. In the part of Central America where I live the 'tamale' is enjoyed on festive occasions. This popular food item is a cornmeal package (wrapped in the green leaves of plantain) which contains tiny offerings of the staples of life, slices of green bean and 'chile dulce', a piece of meat, a piece of potato and small portions of other basic food items as well. But usually included in this 'devotional' assemblage is the smallest amount of 'achiote' which dyes the center of the 'tamale' a bright orange-red (or a tiny sliver of red 'chile' which has much the same metaphoric value and effect). Against the background of the yellow cornmeal, this striking focal detail is a probable visual reminder of the red center of the fertilized egg with its obvious associated image of biological renewal. I have used this example, in university classes in Costa Rica, to illustrate the metaphoric 'language' which individuals employ routinely (and 'unconsciously' for the most part). 78. Vandiver, P.B., Soffer, O., Klima, B., and Svoboda, J., "The Origins of Cermaic Technology at Dolni Vestonice, Czechoslovakia. Science, Vol. 246, Nov. 24, 1989, pp. 1002-1008. See also Soffer, Vandiver, Klima, Svoboda "The Pyrotechnology of Performance Art" in Before Lascaux: the Complex Re3cord of the Early Upper Paleolithic (1993). 79. Margaret Conkey is the Class of 1960 Professor of Anthropology and Director of the Archaeological Research Facility at the University of California, Berkley. Quoted passages are from "Inside Grotte Chauvet: Encountering the First Cave Paintings," California Wild, Summer 1999. 80. Digging at a site in Kenya's Rift Valley Archaeologist Stanley Ambrose (University of Illinois) discovered hundreds of disk-shaped beads made from ostrich eggshell. Radiocarbon dating of the eggshell revealed that they were fashioned 40,000 years ago. Ambrose believes beads were not merely decorative. They were "tokens of reciprocity" with a distinctive social function. In stringing beads together early humans were "weaving a web of connections," Ambrose says. They were making "life-lines between people." Needless to say, this clear example of metaphor is taken to be an early example of 'symbol-making' in human cognition and social relations. See Blake Edgar "The Symbol and the Spear," California Wild (Summer 1999). 81. From Aileen O'Bryan, The Dine: Origin Myths of the Navajo Indians, U.S. Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 163, Washington D.C.: The Smithsonian Institution (1956). 82. This category would have included shapes such as hexagons and octagons (I have in mind the so-called 'female hogan' of the Navajos), but especially the triangle, the prominence of which, as an element of design in the material cultures of Old Europe, has led archeaologist Marija Gimbutas, and other researchers, to see in it the pubic triangle of the female anatomy. In any case, the 'square', to the limited extent this 'unnatural' shape may have presented itself to the imagination, would have been likewise understood primarily as enclosure, as an early approximation of the circle and thus an expression of what could be called the 'female aspect'. Later, of course, the square would evoke the meaning of altered nature (or artifactual reality), becoming thereby associated exclusively with male creativity. In Bronze Age texts the all-important world of human interaction has four corners. In much religious architecture of the Middle East a rectangular foundation encloses the circular base of a dome. The square subsumes the circle. Nature is subordinate to artifact! 83. The English word 'pig' is on loan from North Germanic where it means 'girl' (cf. Swedish piga). To my knowledge, the word evokes no association in these languages with sus scrofa. Herding folk condemned the pig. It was a creature of the forest which, like most other animals of the forest, can not be herded. 84. Natives of the American Southwest (and elsewhere in the New World) continue to see the bowels of the earth as the great 'mother' and 'source of life'. Nevertheless, the sun is revered by many of these same people as 'father', the essence of power and virtue. 85. In the sign language of Spanish-speaking natives of Central America a vertical motion of the open hand indicates a dimension of human existence specifically, whereas horizontal motions designates the world of the lowly animal. 86. Jewish, Christian, and Muslim fundamentalists, in particular, but vast numbers of others as well, who more loosely identify themselves with these religious 'belief systems'. I shall affirm, later in this essay, a fact which should be already obvious: these so-called religions are merely variant forms of the same political ideology. 87. Since the name itself was considered too sacred to be pronounced this protagonist was known variously in the modern reconstructions of the tetragrammaton as 'Yahweh' or 'Jehovah'. 88. I risk a quote here from the previous chapter of this collection of essays: "In the consciousness of emerging hominids, the myth of 'separation', rooted as it was in biology, had a strong association with the male of the species and may have affirmed certain adaptive responses in which the male was possibly the initiator, not the least of which was the abandonment of the forest and the seeming 'separation' of human community from external 'nature', the pain of which has been secondary in human experience only to the separation of the individual from community itself" (Part II -- Chapter Four, p. ). 89. Israel Shahak, Jewish History, Jewish Religion: The Weight of Three Thousand Years, Pluto Press, London, 1994, pp. 44-45. 90. "You shall not sow your vineyard with different kinds of seed, lest... the fruit be defiled" (Deuteronomy 22:9). 91. It may be significant that the Navajo morpheme -ma, meaning 'mother', means also 'field'. In this, as in so many other respects, Navajo culture shows a closeness to social forms which were in ascendance in the pre-history of Eurasia. Unlike their present neighbors, the Hopi and the Zuni, whose forebears were earlier arrivals in America and may have retained broad features of an explicitly pre-patriarchal cultural state, the Navajos, and their close relatives, the Athabascans of the Pacific Northwest, show strong evidence of patriarchal influence and provide thus, as I have indicated elsewhere, useful material for conjectures about early patriarchy on the Eurasian continent. 92. In Jewish myth, which is primarily genetic in its focus, that ultimate 'end' is only hinted at (ignoring the mystical vision of heavenly union in the medieval Kabbalah), although, as Mircea Eliade has observed, the conceptual 'linearity' of time we associate with modern cultures may well originate in early Jewish tradition. The philosophical notion of time as having both a 'beginning' and an 'end' appears to have become fully realized only in the Graeco-Christian imagination. In Western conceptualization time has become an awkward mixture of elements. Owing to its origin on the cusp of the old and the new, it has become the amalgam of two strikingly contradictory mythic formations. It is linear in the sense that it places great emphasis on the concept of 'beginning' and 'end', but it is also cyclic in the important sense that these extremeties are not mythically distinct or opposed positions but constitute rather a conceptual equivalence: [[beginning] = [end]]. 93. An obvious example is the image of the American 'Frontier', an historical process which was, in its literal re-enactment of the mythology from which the Culture of the Open derives its name, a simplifying structure in itself. 94. The pilgrim was Richard Warren, one of forty-one (41) signers of the Mayflower Compact. The astronaut is Alan Shepard who, thirty (30) years ago approximately, visited the Moon. The present text was composed in 1997 and is reproduced here in its original form. 95. If we consistently ignore the female, in organizing our genealogical display, then the number of foreparents remains one (1) for each previous generation, no matter how far we gaze into the past (1n = 1 [n = number of generations]). 96. This may be an appropriate place to footnote the squabble between the proponents of the 'out-of-Africa' theory of human 'origins' (Chris Stringer et al) and Multiregionalism. The former has entered the scene armed with the full accouterment of Western myth; which is, no doubt, the reason why Milford Wolpoff, and the advocates of the 'multiregional approach', have found their theory so frustrating to oppose. The results are not in, but I would predict that in this case, too, 'bad myth' will turn out to be 'bad science'. 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