At its most basic, pseudoscience is fake science. The prefix pseudo- meaning “fake”- followed by the word science. But it’s more than that. Or, I should say, it’s not just that. Pseudoscience involves more than faking science, it often involves the perpetuation of concepts and ideas that are not scientific but presented as such or, very often, believed as such. Good examples are “ufology” and “complimentary and alternative medicine.” I place both within the inverted commas carefully so as not to unintentionally give either the legitimacy it doesn’t deserve.

“Ufology” is purported to be the study of UFOs, that is to say: flying saucers and space aliens. The effort has a rather large following, and even some who could be considered scientists -if only marginally. The physicist Stanton Friedman comes to mind, though I’m not sure if he’s conducted any research in his field beyond the graduate level since the 1960s or 1970s. Followers of “ufology” go to great lengths to appear scientific and most are probably under the mistaken premise that they are adhering to scientific methods -but nearly every single one begins with a conclusion and then seeks to fit data within the boundaries of those conclusions. Omitted are reams of data that fall outside these boundaries: explained sitings; the fallibility of human memory and perception; the possibilities of explanations which are far more parsimonious and prosaic; etc. Included are those data which offer confirmation of the bias and fallaciously argue from and against authority and ignorance.

“Complimentary and alternative medicine (CAM)” proponents argue that evidence-based medicine is no better or worse than treatments and remedies that have little to no evidentiary basis. Often there exists, as with the case of certain herbal treatments and acupuncture, negative evidence for the efficacy of these treatments. Yet “CAM” proponents persist in creating hysteria and undue skepticism of evidence-based medicine in spite of the scientifically controlled testing involved in approving real medicines for health applications. “CAM” proponents seek to minimize the rigors of science and double-blind testing by asserting that their treatments and remedies are either “complimentary” to evidence-based medicine or “alternative” to it. But there is no alternative to evidence-based medicine. Either it’s science or it isn’t. Either there’s good reason to accept the efficacy of a given treatment or there isn’t. And if there isn’t, then a real patient’s real life can be at risk by applying a fake resolution.

In each of these examples, not everyone who buys into UFOs and echinacea would necessarily be called pseudoscientists, since they didn’t actually devise the arguments of the pseudoscience they consider to have merit. These people are simply gullible until they begin asserting and attempt improvements upon the arguments.

In an old, but updated, post at John Hawks’ blog, John discussed the “aquatic ape” theory of human bipedalism, which was argued by Elain Morgan for a talk at TED. As an hypothesis, “aquatic ape” itself isn’t pseudoscientific. It has the same potential as any other hypothesis to be scientific. The problem is, just about everything Morgan discussed has been explained or rendered irrelevant by new data. Another blog that goes into detail with tihs is Ad Hominem, a wonderful blog on human evolution and skepticism. The idea only truly becomes pseudoscientific once Morgan ignores the data and arguments that successfully refute the hypothesis without refuting the data and counter-refuting the arguments. Instead, she appears to stick with the same arguments of the original hypothesis before science ruled it out. “Aquatic ape” still remains an hypothesis for human bipedalism, it just hasn’t any traction or enough evidence to support it as viable at this time. Perhaps that might change in the future with new data and I, like every anthropologist I know, will happily revise their opinions should that happen (okay, perhaps “happily” is going to an extreme… but they would eventually revise their opinions with the advent of fresh evidence if only to give the idea more credence.

What inspired me to write this post was a short passage from an article that I read on John Hawk’s blog:

Every statement of natural causes is potentially scientific. What distinguishes science from pseudoscience is social. Pseudoscience is asserted by assertions of authority, by rejection or ignorance of pertinent tests, by supporters who take on the trappings of scientific argument without accepting science’s basic rules of refutation and replication. Pseudoscience is driven by charismatic personalities who do not answer direct questions. When held by those in power, like Lysenkoism, it destroys honest scientific inquiry. When held by a minority, it pleads persecution.

John said in just a few sentences what I’ve been struggling to define for a few years with mixed success. Thanks John.

This same pattern of pseudoscience can be seen in archaeological topics that range from so-called “out of place artifacts” (popularized by Cremo) to the Bosnian Pyramid; from alleged ruins off the coast of Yonaguni, Japan to claims that the pyramids of Giza are over 10,000 years old.

H/T: Why Evolution is True

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Mention the word “sacrifice” in a religious context and, for many people, thoughts of young virgins tossed in volcanoes by a Polynesian King or lying on altars below the obscenely sharp obsidian blade of an Aztec ruler. Or perhaps they’re reminded of the story of blind faith by Abraham who was prepared to murder his son for a god that commanded it.

While human sacrifice is a part of many cultures in antiquity and even, in some unfortunate instances, modernity, this type of sacrifice is relatively rare. There are those that take a Girardian view of ritual and sacrifice and assert that sacrifice is a form of victimizing or scapegoating an individual. The Girardian will often point to the self-sacrifice of Jesus as an example of a god on earth exposing the “scapegoating mechanism.” One of the many faults with this way of looking at sacrifice and other religious rituals is that to do so, one must assume that the intent is to victimize -to create a scapegoat.

While it is certainly true that human sacrifices are victims, it is a very myopic view to assert that they’re all scapegoats (certainly some or even many were), and it isn’t true that, in most cases, the intent of sacrifice is to create a victim.

Sacrifice is a perceived method of communicating with gods or ancestors and is a process that has existed for thousands of years in human history and prehistory. We have evidence of it going back to the time of Neanderthals depending on what you consider to be sacrifice.

For the anthropologist, a sacrifice is a special kind of offering. A mere offering to the gods by the average religious adherent deprives the worshiper of little. A libation of oil here; a tithe of coin there… But a true sacrifice creates a significant cost to the worshiper. In antiquity, we see evidence in both written and material record of sacrifices that truly put the worshiper (the religious adherent) in a situation where piety becomes more important that personal gain, wealth or even well-being. The sacrifice demonstrates that piety with the level of piety directly proportional to the level of sacrifice.

The vast majority of sacrifices in the archaeological record do not involve the taking of human life . Rather they include the offering of first fruits, first lambs, finest bulls or the best ox, significant portions of one’s wealth, etc. The worshiper hopes that the god to whom he is offering a sacrifice will reciprocate, bringing good fortune in the way of rain, keeping the locusts away, etc. The worshiper shows respect to the god or an ancestor in the way he might to a king: there might be a desire that the god would offer forgiveness or perhaps expiation for some transgression.. In this regard, forgiveness is a more abstract concept than simple reciprocity. The worshiper may also seek to show abnegation by demonstrating to the god that he is practicing self-denial and seeking the pity or favor of the god. Very often, the sacrifices come at a time when good-fortune has seemingly been bestowed upon the society in the form of a good harvest or success in battle.

Pascal Boyer (2001)^[1] explores several reasons for sacrifice described by ethnographers like Roger Keesing (1982)^[2] and notes that while sacrifices are “presented as giving away some resources in exchange for protection, the brutal fact remains that the sacrificed animals are generally consumed by the participants.” The result is a “communal sharing” and a social function that brings people of the community together. The meat is shared and those who can’t afford to provide an animal of their own often still benefit from the sacrifice, receiving meat and gifts.

Sacrifice is often about sharing resources and giving up that which is valuable and nearly indispensable. Even in cases where human sacrifice was practiced. The Girardian would suggest that the sacrificed individual was victimized as a scapegoat, but very often the sacrifice went willing and probably believed the offering of life to be an honor. Even with instances of sacrifice where consent wasn’t possible, as with infant and child sacrifices found in various places of the ancient world such as Peru’s central coast as early as 5000 BCE, the Levant from around 3000 BCE, and Carthage, Tunisia dating to around 800 BCE, the sacrificial “victim” was honored. Great care was taken in Peru, for instance, to place mica over the eyes and a clear quartz rock in place of the heart suggesting magical intent. One doesn’t bother to take such expensive and detailed care of scapegoats.

Human sacrifice, even among the Aztec, doesn’t seem to be about scapegoating or victimizing. A recent excavation at Teotihuacan^[3] revealed more than 80 human sacrifices that some have suggested were prisoners of war, perhaps sacrificed to dedicate the temple they were excavated from. But, even here, there has been indication that the “victims” were willing and honored participants, largely due to the positioning of the bodies as well as their adornments. These were among the finest and most skilled warriors of the society at the time.

From the point of view of the sacrificers in cultures like the Aztec, the gods are being repaid a debt. The Girardian would suggest, however, that those sacrificed are the unwanted of society -the expendable. The Girardian would also suggest that human sacrifice is the same as the sacrifice of animals and material goods^[4]. But the Girardian misses the point of sacrifice in much of religion. There are undoubtedly religious cults throughout human history that have exploited the “disposable” members of their society for the appearance of pious sacrifices to gods or ancestors. But there are many, many more that place high importance on true sacrifice being that which is vital or most valued to the individual and the society: prize bulls, intricately carved jewelry, ornately plumed birds, fiercest predators, first-picked crops, etc. And, when it came to humans, skilled warriors and virgins were highly valued, thus offered as payment to the gods.

Edit: I just noticed that there’s another post in this week’s Four Stone Hearth that compliments this one quite well. Or, perhaps, I compliment his… Anyway, I highly recommend: Chahokia: Human Sacrifice on the Mississippi, which describes the practice of mass sacrifice by the Mississippian Culture dating to ca. 1150 CE. The blog is Running ‘Cause I Can’t Fly and here’s an excerpt:

As for the female sacrifices, Pauketat said important women may have been chosen because of their status. “These female sacrifices might not have been of unimportant people. This may have been a very honored role to fill. It may have been people who were impersonating some kind of corn goddess,” he said, “And their duty was to die.”

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1. Boyer, Pascal (2001). Religion Explained: the evolutionary origins of religious thought. Basic Books
2. Keesing, Roger (1982). Kwaio Religion: the Living and the Dead in a Solomon Island Society. Columbia University Press
3. Sugiyama, Saburo (2005). Human Sacrifice, Militarism, and Rulership: Materialization of State Ideology at the Feathered Serpent Pyramid, Teotihuacan. Cambridge University Press, pp. 226-230.
4. Examples of both of these Girardian positions can be seen in Rene Girard‘s Violence and the Sacred, pp. 10-13, J.H. Press 1993

I don’t often post on religious topics on this blog. At least not topics related to modern religion like Christianity. I’m more interested in ancient religion and expression of religion and belief in the material record of antiquity than modern squabbles about “belief in God,” etc.

But I took the time to listen to a podcast titled, “anthropology of religion” hosted by the Minnesota Atheists. It was an audio version of their public access television show I believe. Featured were two theologians discussing the anthropology of religion. Or so they thought. I actually took the time to leave a post on the podcast episode’s blog and I thought I’d share it here:

———————————————

I listened with some fascination and a bit of dismay to the podcast interviewing Chester O’Gorman and Grant Steves. I was particularly shocked at the limited point of view O’Gorman applied to the subject of the anthropology of religion. Clearly his is a position of “theology” and not of science, so I kept telling myself to be patient and forgiving. But I’d still like to post a comment regarding some of his statements.

O’Gorman seems fixated with “victimization” and “scapegoating” in ritual and religious expression. While I’m familiar with the works of René Girard, I’m definitely not an expert. And, while I recognize that O’Gorman is channeling Girard, nearly verbatim in certain instances, I’ll confine my criticism to O’Gorman and not Girard.

O’Gorman’s admittance that his definitions of ritual and myth are “narrow” are one of the few statements I found agreeable. He says that ritual is the means of reenacting the process of victimization and that sacrifice must include a victim. Indeed, his exact words are, “there has always been a sacrifice at the center of ritual.” This is, of course, an absurd statement. There are many rituals that do not include sacrifices: marriage, baptism, the sweat lodge, the visionquest, pipe ceremonies, funerals, feasts, potlach, etc. In some of these, one can make some very abstract connections to sacrifices, but these are hardly the types of sacrifices that O’Gorman is referring to. And each of these rituals existed either long before or in complete ignorance of Christianity, so his remark that “we have them now” (rituals without sacrifice), doesn’t follow.

Sacrifice *can* be seen as including a victim, but it’s more accurately described as showing a degree of piety or dedication by offering personal wealth or otherwise valuable possessions for divine consumption. Wealthy Greeks sacrificed oxen in the Bronze Age by bringing their best stock to the temple and delivering to the priests within the tenemos of the temple where it was butchered and fed to the populace. In this manner, wealth was redistributed (with the priestly class getting the best cuts). This ensured the society as a whole benefited. The remaining bits of meat and skin were burnt on an altar, the gods getting their share via the smoke.

This is quite different from the type of sacrifice O’Gorman was alluding to when he states “things have evolved away from human sacrifice.” Here he seems to be implying that Christian religious doctrines have done away with the violence associated with sacrifice, leaving only the sometimes graphic and violent reenactments of an alleged messiah being sacrificed on a wooden cross. Christians the world over keep such iconography close to them in the form of little crosses on chains, which they periodically raise to kiss, or by mimicking a cross with a hand gesture.

Human sacrifice is actually very rare in the archaeological record and never more prevalent than within the histories of Christianity. O’Gorman says, “it’s only through Christian influence that ritual takes on a new connotation where sacrifice no longer happens.” O’Gorman should either give back his degree or demand a refund of his tuition! While Precolumbian Mesoamericans practiced human sacrifice, we cannot overlook the fact that this practice was halted primarily by Christian invaders who slaughtered these “savages.” While Maya, Incan, Aztec and a few other cultures stand out as including various human and animal sacrifices, their actions pale when compared to early and even modern Christians who burned heretics and witches during the inquisition, poured Kool-Aid for parishioners at Jonestown, ignited themselves at Waco, and took their shoes off for a never ending nap at Heaven’s Gate.

Most other religions, both extant and extinct, show evidence of many, many rituals that exist without any sort of sacrifice except, perhaps, that of time and effort. One of the most significant ritual exercises present in religions the world over is ritual prayer and incantation. While there are sacrifices associated with some (offerings of food, wine, anointments of oil, etc.), the vast majority show no evidence of sacrifice. And to suggest that the symbolism of sacrifice found in the myth of Jesus isn’t technically a sacrifice because a victim isn’t being exploited begs the question since it assumes that the mythos presented in the gospels are both accurate testaments as well as representations of actual events, all regardless of whether Jesus actually existed.

As a graduate student of anthropology whose focus is on the archaeological remains of cult and religious belief in antiquity, I’d have to say I disagree with O’Gorman at nearly every turn of his conversation. Clearly his main focus is “theology.” I suspect he’s genuine in his desire to align his studies with an anthropological perspective, but I also suspect this is tainted by the conclusions one must necessarily begin with when taking on the title “theologian.” Anthropologists are scientists. Scientists do not begin with conclusions to which they seek only data which fit, rather they observe data and arrive at conclusions.

O’Gorman is no anthropologist.

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In addition to cranial surgery, another artificial modification of the human skull present in the archaeological record, which is perhaps better known, is skull shaping. Like trephination, this practice of modifying the shape of the human skull is present on every inhabited continent and at various periods in human history and prehistory^[1]. It even appears in the archaeological record of Neanderthals^[2]. Like trephination, several hypotheses exist to offer explanations why this practice was done. And, like trephination, the likelihood of a given hypothesis seems to have more or less probability depending upon the culture being examined.

The human skull can be artificially modified either intentionally or unintentionally. Unintentional occurrences usually involve the use of cradle boards, a device used by parents, usually mothers, to manage infants while they perform their own day to day tasks. It can be stood up near the mother or worn on her back. The constant pressure on the occipital bone, especially if the habit of binding the infant to the board is employed, causes lateral growth of the skull and “a permanent effect on the skull.”

A recent study in the Andes examined the cultural aspects of intentional cranial modification in Peruvian society, focusing on regional differentiations between the Moquegua and Katari valleys^[3]. It was found that, while the fronto-occipital type of cranial deformation was culturally preferred in the Moquegua valley, it was the annular-oblique type that found favor among those in the neighboring Katari valley. The actual presence of cranial modification between the two regions presented no statistical difference. Both valleys were equally likely to practice cranial deformation. The researchers found, however, that when the type of deformation was controlled for, the two valleys completely favored one over the other. It was also discovered that in the capital city of Tiwanaku in the highlands, both types were present. Previous researchers considered the difference in forms at Tiwanaku as representative of differences in class with the annular form belonging to a priestly class. The newer research brings this into question and demonstrates the importance of bioarchaeological approaches to examining social complexity and culture in the ancient world.

Beatrice Blackwood and P. M. Danby (1955) investigated the intentional cranial deformations performed by the people on the island of New Britain in Papua New Guinea. There, the Arawe people practiced head-binding of infants to produce a very characteristic elongation of the cranial vault which varies depending upon the method by which the binding materials are applied to the infant skull^[4].

For the Arawe, the practice was “purely an aesthetic one” and had no magico-religious or class motivations associated with it. There were no rituals or or ceremonies involved and appeared to be done simply because it was found aesthetically pleasing

Another inspiration for in vivo cranial modification might be ancestor worship. Perhaps one of the best known instances of ancestor worship that involves skull modification comes from Jericho in the Near East. Fletcher et al^[5] describe in detail the plastered skulls of Jericho and make a novel correlation between antemortem and postmortem deformations. The skulls they examine originate from the Pre-Pottery Neolithic (PPN) B period of the Levant at about 10,500 – 8,700 years ago. One of the skulls, in the British Museum was one of seven plastered skulls recovered by Kathleen Kenyon from the in 1953. The PPNB is an important period of human history because it represents a transition from a foraging lifeway to a more sedentary, agricultural one along with a marked increase in population densities and expansions within the Levant.

Caches of skulls like the one that Kenyon recovered in Jericho have been found at other sites, their facial features remodeled in plaster and often painted with cowrie shells added to represent eyes. There is no evidence that the individuals who had their skulls plastered were of high status or elites of the settlements. There is, however, evidence of burials associated with the settlements which had skulls removed while other bodies were dumped unceremoniously in waste pits also associated with the settlements. The number of burials found are not sufficient enough in number to account for the population sizes of these settlements^[6][7][8] .

The researchers (Fletcher et al) suggest that the removal, decoration and curation of artificially modified skulls was not a mortuary practice but, rather, a life practice in which these carefully plastered and painted skulls were ritual symbols of the relationship between life and death. To get to this conclusion, they demonstrated that the skulls, thought only to be modified postmortem, were also modified antemortem. Fletcher et al used radiographic analysis to examine the skulls and show that there existed evidence for in vivo cranial modification due to a varied thickness of the inner table of the cranial vault. In non-modified skulls, this thickness is uniform and consistent, but in skulls that have been modified, the thickness varies. They also note the painted stripes across the parietal bones of one skull, which might represent the method of binding the cranium.

Its possible that the skulls were chosen for their morphology – the preference was for crania with “low wide faces and broad vaults,” which happens to be present in many of the culturally modified skulls found elsewhere. While its possible that skulls are chosen based on their sex and part of the veneration of elder males, the fact that plastering obscures characteristics for determining sex means this may not actually be the case. In addition, evidence for the plastering of female and child skulls seems to refute this sort of ancestor cult hypothesis.

Along with the radiographic evidence that the plastered skulls were modified in vivo, there also exists cultural evidence for the aesthetic appeal for certain head shapes in Neolithic iconography by way of figurines that exhibit elongated skulls. Female figurines excavated from Tell Ramad depict an elongated form and at the Late Neolithic to Middle Chalcolithic site of Coga Mish in Iran, three figurines found there were of human heads that exhibit a round frontal view, but are clearly flattened and elongated in the back, consistent with in vivo cranial modification. Indeed they each have a painted black band encircling the head which could represent bandage bindings. Evidence of skull shaping is also present at Ganj darra, Ali Kosh, Choga Safid, and Choga Mish which each produced skulls where the individuals had undergone shaping in vivo by use of bindings as infants and were variously male and female. At Ganj Darra and Choga Safid, each skull excavated had indications of intentional cranial modification. This, when considered that not all skulls were selected for burial, seems to indicate a preference for skulls modified in vivo when it came time for burial, caching and postmortem modifications like plastering.

As Fletcher et al pointed out, the inclusion of females and children as the recipients of antemortem and postmortem modifications would seem to disassociate the practices from ancestor worship. Fletcher et al conclude that, while ancestor worship as an explanation would appear inadequate, the “generalized veneration of ancestral ties may reflect attempts to cope with the social and economic stresses associated with the changing economic and subsistence strategies of the PPNB and the growth of permanent large-scale centres such as Jericho [and] it becomes easier to accept that children a well adults could have assumed a significant role in linking living communities with their past.” The modification of the human skull in the Pre-Pottery Neolithic may very well have been a way of ensuring heredity and kinship within a growing and diversifying population that was becoming increasingly sedentary, which may explain the preference for skulls modified in vivo for postmortem veneration.

Perhaps the former foragers, now agriculturalists, of the Pre-Pottery Neolithic had ancestors within their societies who were considered inspirational leaders and founders of the societies themselves -individuals who were remembered as having skull shapes and sizes that, while not outside the normal range for H. sapiens sapiens, were nonetheless noticeably different. Perhaps, in an attempt to venerate these leaders or founders, or to establish kinship with them, parents began the practice of binding their infants’ heads to ensure this link to the past and to their ancestors. Perhaps something similar can be said for Andean societies in and around Tiwanaku where diversity and ancestry both appeared to be appreciated and venerated. The Arawe, who reported no other reason than aesthetics, may have been creating self-caricatures of an ideal form of an ancestor long forgotten, but still venerated unintentionally.

The true origins of artificial but intentional cranial modifications may never be known or understood and they may, indeed, be as numerous as the number of cultures throughout human history and prehistory that practiced it. But the continued study and attempts to understand this practice can help avoid making unintended assumptions that might affect the conclusions of researchers examining cultures that practiced it. Head shaping may not be a way of exerting dominance over another group or demonstrating elite status; trephination may not simply be a method of releasing spirits and demons.

1. Ortner, Donald J (2003). Identification of pathological conditions in human skeletal remains, 2nd edition. San Diego: Academic Press
2. Trinkaus, Erik (1982). Artificial Cranial Deformation in the Shanidar 1 and 5 Neandertals. Current Anthropology, 23 (2), 198-199.
3. Blom, Deborah E. (2005). Embodying borders: human body modification and diversity in Tiwanaku society. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 24, 1-24.
4. Blackwood, Beatrice; Danby, P.M. (1955). A study of artificial cranial deformation in New Britain. The Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, 85 (1/2), 173-191.
5. Fletcher, Alexandra; Pearson, Jessica; and Ambers, Janet (2008). The manipulation of social and physical identity in the Pre-Pottery Neolithic: radiographic evidence for cranial modification at Jericho and its implications for the plastering of skulls. Cambridge Archaeological Journal, 18 (3), 309-325.
6. Meiklejohn, A. Agelarakis, P. A. Akkermans, P. E. L. Smith, and R. Solecki (1992) Artificial Cranial Deformation in the Proto-Neolithic and Neolithic Near East and its Possible Origin: Evidence from Four Sites.” Paléorient 18(2), 83-97.
   
7. Watkins, Trevor (2005). From foragers to complex societies in southwest Asia. In The Human Past. Chris Scarre, (ed.). London: Thames and Hudson, 200-233.
8. Hole, Frank; Flannery, Kent V.; Neely, James A. (1969). Prehistory and Human Ecology of the Deh Luran Plain. An Early Village Sequence from Khuzistan, Iran. Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press.

The practice of artificially modifying the human skull has been a part of human culture as far back as 45,000 years BP^[1], and it has been shown to occur on every inhabited continent . Two primary forms of artificially modifying the human skull include trephination, the deliberate and surgical creation of a hole in the cranial vault, and the application of pressure on the crania of infants or toddlers to reshape the cranial vault from its natural form. Various hypotheses exist to explain the origins and reasons for these practices in human cultures in both the ancient and modern worlds, but none appear to be conclusive, though several do seem to be compelling when reviewed in the light of other archaeological and ethnographic data.

Trephination

Trephination as a practice in prehistory was first noted by E. George Squier in 1865 but has been shown to exist in most inhabited regions of the world and in periods of human history and prehistory as far back as the Neolithic^[2][3]. Trephining is the act of surgically perforating in the skull for perceived therapeutic purposes and the term is often used interchangeably with “trepanation,” however, Ortner makes an effort to differentiate between “trephination” and “trepanation.” The latter refers to the act of creating a perforation by use of an instrument. The former indicates that a section of bone is actually removed from the skull. The term “trepanation” is derived from the Greek term trypan, meaning “to pierce”.

Squier’s Incan skull is one that shows a scraping of the frontal bone in four regions such that a rectangular piece of bone was removed as a result (fig. 1). The instrument used was likely an obsidian or chert blade and the perforation exhibits no indication of healing so the patient very likely died during the procedure. The discovery of this skull created a sensation within the archaeological and historical community, the sentiment at the time creating an expectation that cranial surgery by “primitives” or “savages” would be a complex task far removed from their abilities. Squier’s example was a clear and indisputable example of human ingenuity, knowledge and understanding in the ancient world. It was an unmistakable, intentional modification of a human skull by human hands.

Squier’s discovery inspired and fascinated Paul Broca in France, who was fascinated not only with the idea of pre-Columbian Peruvians performing cranial surgery but with the reason for the surgery to begin with. Broca believed the act of trephination was one that was originally motivated by superstition and an appeasement of the supernatural which he based on observations of contemporary cultures that did so for these reasons.

No clear evidence for the casting out of evil spirits, demons, devils or other superstitious motivations appear to exist in the archaeological record to date and the idea remains an hypothesis, though one that may be intuitive given the superstitious nature that can exist among human culture as pointed out by Broca. The intuitiveness of the hypothesis is such that it appears in both academic and popular texts and writings. Ronald J. Comer, in his Abnormal Psychology, discusses the idea that South Americans (ostensibly the Inca) used trephination as a supernatural response to severe abnormal behaviors such as hallucinations or melancholia and he goes on to equate the practice to Western exorcisms.

Researchers have analyzed 66 skulls obtained from 11 Cuzco-region burials in Peru, which exhibited 109 trephinations in all^[4]. Most of the methods of trephining these skulls included circular cutting and scraping. They discovered the survival rate among the individuals they analyzed to be 83% evidenced by the well-healed bone of most individuals, some of which exhibited multiple, well-healed trephinations. The key hypothesis Andrushko and Verano set out to test was that use of trephination as a medical treatment as opposed to cultural motivations. What they discovered was that great care was taken to promote healing and prevent infection.

1. Trinkaus, Erik (1982). Artificial Cranial Deformation in the Shanidar 1 and 5 Neandertals. Current Anthropology, 23 (2), 198-199.
2. Andrushko, Valerie A. and Verano, John W. (2008). Prehistoric trepanation in the Cuzco region of Peru: a view into an ancient Andean practice. American Journal of Physical Anthropology, 137, 4-13.
3. Fernando, Hiram and Finger, Stanley (2002). “Ephraim George Squier’s Peruvian Skull and the Discovery of Cranial Trepanation.” In Trepanation: history, discovery, theory. Robert Arnott, Stanley Finger, Christopher Upham Murray Smith (eds.). Taylor and Francis.
4. Andrushko, Valerie A. and Verano, John W. (2008). Prehistoric trepanation in the Cuzco region of Peru: a view into an ancient Andean practice. American Journal of Physical Anthropology, 137, 4-13.

In the United States, the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act of 1990 (Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act» ) mandates special care and treatment of Native American cultural remains, particularly human remains. The single best discussion on the internet that includes the most sources of clickable information that I’ve found on NAGPRA is on Larry J. Zimmerman’s site^[1]. I highly recommend it.

Because there is an expectation (usually) that Native American remains are reburied or returned to their tribes, it isn’t hard to imagine that archaeologists are on the clock from the moment they discover the remains to gather as much data as possible. Eventually the bones will be out of their hands and any opportunity to get a re-look or use them for teaching purposes will be lost.

But there is a way to capture very accurate representations of interesting bones for later analysis or teaching: make detailed cast of the artifact! If you’ve ever been to the dentist to have a crown made, you’ve been the subject of this method yourself. What the dentist did was apply a non-toxic, non-damaging alginate to your tooth to create a mold in which a new, porcelain copy could be made.

To do this with a bone or even a lithic artifact, you’ll need to gather a few, relatively inexpensive materials:

1. Dental alginate (about $10)
2. Casting stone (about $30-45)
3. bowl (free? check your cabinet)
4. non-stick rubber spatula for mixing
5. vibrator (not that kind!)

The process is pretty straight forward, but I can see where some practice could be important.

1. Put alginate powder in the mixing bowl and begin mixing a bit of water a little at a time. The idea is to bring the mix to about the consistency of cake batter. Use the spatula to mix and work the flat edge against the side of the bowl for a couple of minutes, adding water/alginate until you get the right amount/consistency. Keep in mind it sets quick, so don’t dilly-dally.

2. Pour and scrape the alginate into a vessel that will accommodate the object you’re casting (in the cast I show below, I used a disposable, Styrofoam bowl which I trimmed with scissors). Don’t use paper vessels. Use something like Styrofoam or non-stick or you will end up with bits of paper stuck to the cast. Non-stick reusable bowls are good for the environmental-conscious but Styrofoam lets you change the size shape with a knife or scissors.

3. Stick the surface you want a cast of into the alginate, being mindful that you’ll need to remove it. If, for instance, you want to cast a vertebra, you’ll want to do it one plane at a time, otherwise you might damage the mold when you remove it. Also, if there are any areas where the alginate can get behind and “catch” when you remove it (lamellae, osteophytes, etc.), you want to try to position your bone accordingly.

4. Give your alginate time to set. For this, read the label on the particular alginate you purchase. Some will set in under a minute (you have to work very quickly!), some in just a couple of minutes. If you’re casting a lot of samples, you might want the quick-set. Otherwise, I’d recommend the type that take a minute or two. Even if you have to manually hold a bone or lithic in place, this isn’t a terribly long time to wait.

5. Once your alginate is set, work the artifact out of the newly created mold. Rock it back and forth, pull, etc. until it pops from the mold. You should see a very detailed and reversed impression of your artifact.

6. Assuming you’ve cleaned your bowl of the remaining alginate (it cleans quite easily), now you’ll want to mix the stone. Same concept: add what looks like enough stone to fill the mold in the bowl, add water a little at a time, mixing to get the cake-batter consistency. Again, you can add additional water/stone until you get the consistency/amount you need as long as you’re working quick (this, too, sets fairly quickly).

7. Set your mold in its Styrofoam bowl or cup (or whatever) on the vibrator’s platform, turn it on (hold the mold so it won’t slide off) and slowly drip stone into the mold using the spatula. The reason the vibrator is important (and don’t bother doing this unless you have one or are using the more expensive type of stone which doesn’t require vibration) is trapped air in the mix needs to be bubbled to the surface, otherwise the result will be a brittle, crumbly mess. Scoop some stone on the spatula and just let the edge of the spatula touch the edge of the container. What happens next is what geologists call liquifaction: the stone becomes more fluid due to the vibrations and more easily sorts and settles in the mold without trapping air. Air that does get trapped bubbles to the surface rather quickly.

8. Once the mold is filled, and you see no additional bubbles (just a few seconds), go ahead and shut the vibrator off. You can add some extra stone to the top of the container with the alginate mold, so that you can create a nice, flat surface. Just gloop on a few more spatulas of stone mix (no need to vibrate it at this point) and invert a Styrofoam plate on top. Holding it all together, flip it over and let it dry for 1-3 hours. You might want to use a spatula to scrape away an excess that sticks out between the container and the plate. While the stone sets, it’ll feel noticebly warm since there’s a slight exothermic reaction as it sets. Once set, peel away the Styrofoam and gently work the cast away from the flexible dental alginate.

If you’re very lucky, the alginate mold will fare very well and you can, perhaps, get another cast or two out of it. Alginate doesn’t hold together well over time and it’ll loose its shape and form.

Below are two photos of the bone and cast I made. Its of the auricular surface of the right ox cocae of an adult male with Paget’s disease apparent in the skeletal pathology. I cast this particular auricular surface because it was so obviously not consistent with the subject’s age whereas the left auricular surface and both the pubic symphyses were consistent with a male over 45.

Auricular surface of a right ox cocae. Male, 45 yrs+. Asymmetrical appearance to the left auricular surface could be due to Paget's disease.

Cast of the auricular surface to the above

There are many different casting materials other than alginates (which are derived from seaweed and its the sodium alginate NaC₆H₇O₆ which quickly absorbs water which is used). But the level of detail is so good in a cast that it’s almost as good as the real thing. I’m told that scanning electron microscopy can be employed to examine for tool marks, evaluate striations to determine if breaks in bone is ante-, pre-, or post-mortem, etc. Below is a close up of the cast I made so you can see the details.

A close up of the cast of the auricular surface above. note the level of detail possible in using dental alginate & stone casting methods. Click the image to see the full version.

To obtain the materials needed, check your local area for a dental supply store. Dentists are everywhere and they need the stuff! A Google search for “dental supply” came up with a lot of hits and Darby Dental Supply, LLC was among them. I noticed everything listed above on their site, so you can get an idea on prices, etc.

This was just my brief and rudimentary personal introduction to casting. I expect I’ve a lot to learn and look forward to doing more. For those more experienced at this than I (and if you’ve done just two casts that includes you!), please feel free to correct or add to anything above. Or post links to pics of your own casts. I’d love to read more on this and hear other tips, tricks, and methods.

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1. Repatriation and Burial Issues – found on the internet 4/10/09. This is a page on Larry J. Zimmerman’s site, which gives an overview of NAGPRA and the issues that surround it. His case studies are mandatory reading for anyone interested in participating in any level of archaeological practice

Yonaguni Composite

One of the pseudo-archaeological claims that I see from time to time on the intertubes is the speculation that there are underwater ruins of an ancient civilization off the coast of Yonagumi.

This by itself isn’t such a fantastic claim. There are countless settlements and remnants of civilizations as old as the neolithic and before that have since been inundated by rising sea levels. At the height of the Last Glacial Maximum, sea levels were as much as 100-120 meters lower^[1]. According to Graham Hancock, a mystery-monger and significance-junkie who profits quite well from his books and media appearances in which he appeals to the sense of mystery in us all, the site at Yonaguni is at a depth of “up to 30 meters^[2].” By conservative estimates, this would put the region above sea level at between 8-10 thousand years ago^[1]!

What Hancock would have us believe is that a culture lived and thrived on this remote island 10,000 years ago and was able to create monumental architecture. Again, by itself, this isn’t a completely far-fetched idea. Monumental architecture did start to appear in various places around the world at around 10,000 – 6,500 years ago. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to be the case at Yonaguni.

The conclusion that the submarine rock formations found at Yonaguni are anthropogenic is quite a leap that isn’t supported by evidence. To reach this conclusion, we must first begin with the premise that the submarine geology cannot be natural. As with other sites around the globe, mystery-mongers will quickly and quite fallaciously conclude that “nature doesn’t make right angles” and Hancock, in chapter 27 of Underworld, quotes, mentions, or implies this more than once. You might recall my previous posts on Semir Osmanagic and his (and others’) “nature doesn’t make right-angles” claim.

Many of the angles that I’ve seen in various photographs on the “ruins” aren’t right-angles at all, but rhombohedral. That is to say, they’re slightly off from perpendicular, which is a characteristic of a kind of fracturing in geology known as jointing. Jointing occurs when there is fracturing without movement as with a fault. Imagine placing a stack of Graham crackers on a pencil and apply force to the top of the cracker and you’ll see various fracturing occur depending upon the direction and intensity of the force applied and the position of the pencil (or pencils if you want to get creative).

Cypriot Anchor

Alleged Tablet

One of the supporting claims of proponents of the “ancient ruins” speculation is that a “stone tablet” has been found, but photos of this “tablet” look more like a weight or anchor -which would depend upon the size. None of the photos on the internet have actually had anything included in the photo for scale (archaeologists often include a small black and white placard in centimeters; geologists often just plop their hammer in the photo). I would be very surprised if these types of stones weren’t common in the region given the thousands of years of fishing economy. Nets need weights and boats need anchors.

Alleged Colossal Head

Yet another supporting photo is the “colossal head,” reminiscent of Olmec society in Mesoamerica. Yet this rock seems to be a perpetrator of pareidolia more than anything. Like the so-called “face on Mars,” this rock only just resemble a face with some vaguely familiar crevices where one might expect to see eyes. Given the number of rocks in the area, there are bound to be several that have naturally occurring “faces” on them -you can see such “faces” just watching a few cumulus clouds pass on a breezy spring day.

Then there’s the pictures at the top of this post. Number 1 shows an alleged “site plan” of the “ruins,” but this is completely fallacious and leading since it presupposes and leads the viewer into the expectation that something has actually been discovered. Looking at this diagram, you can see its labeled with “terraces” and “streets,” a “sacred place” and a “gate” and so on. None of these alleged features have any supporting evidence for context. Not a shred. Indeed, they look like rocks that have fractured underwater in the same manner that they have above sea level. The difference is the debris. There is a distinct lack of debris in the photos you see of the underwater features (i.e #2) while there are more rubble and debris from broken and fallen rock on the coastal formations. The reason is most likely the current. I noticed that this warm water region is distinctly void of vegetation and fish, which is consistent with rough water due to wave action. These same waves would remove the debris from broken rock and fill the base with sand further hiding the debris.

If we can assume the model (#3) found on many websites is accurate, we can then compare it with terrestrial geology. Does it compare? I’d say so. Photo number 4 is a close up of the same member, with the same apparent strike and the same stratigraphy of shale or sandstone as the underwater version. There are right angles. There are rhombohedral angles. There are steps. There are “terraces.” See the full size version below:

There’s little doubt that those who want there to be a dark, mysterious but lost civilization to exist in the waters of Yonaguni will simply go on seeing only evidence of that imagined civilization in the very natural but cool geology of the region. However, there simply isn’t any supporting evidence that such a civilization existed and that this civilization created the monumental architecture necessary to be what is claimed. There are too many new assumptions that must be introduced (which is the very thing that appeals to certain mystery-mongers) about human evolution. Along with monumental architecture comes wide-scale domestication of plants and animals -a fishing culture alone would not be able to provide the required calories for the number of people necessary to engage in such architecture. There should be corresponding artifacts on the island of Yonaguni which support the hypothesis that 10,000 years ago there existed a culture which was able to engage in monumental architecture. Such evidence is not forthcoming either on land or below the surface of the waves thrashing Yonaguni’s shores.

1. http://www.cartruts.com/pictures/Post-Glacial_Sea_Level.jpg
2. Hancock, Graham (24 May 2008) Confronting Yonaguni, online excerpt of Chap. 27. Underworld. Crown, 2002.

The most recent online issue of Current Biology has an article describing the research which reveals evidence that the first Americans immigrated via two distinct populations at around the same time. One population is comprised of haplogroup D4h3, which took the Pacific coastal route; the second is made up of haplogroup X2a and they migrated through the land corridor between the Laurentide and Cordilleran Ice Sheets.

Both haplogroups migrated Siberia between 15,000 and 17,000 years ago just after the Last Glacial Maximum with D4h3 migrating the Pacific coast all the way to Tierra del Fuego at the tip of South America. X2a stayed in North America.

The data comes from the studies in molecular genetics by Antonio Torroni, Ugo Perego, and Alessandro Achilli at the Università di Pavia in Italy. They examined the mitochondrial DNA the two rare haplogroups above. mtDNA is passed through the generations from mother to child and is very useful in studying the phylogeny of organisms including humans.

If you’ve ever spent any time browsing a UFO forum or website, you’ll eventually run into a link or claim that the ancient Mesoamericans and Inca were either aliens» or worshiped aliens as gods. The “proof” is usually a skull much like the one you see depicted here. And it does look alien! Indeed, this must have completely baffled the first Westerner to uncover such a find!

The recent issue of Archaeology^[1] has a sidebar that briefly describes the practice of modifying the shape of the human skull by the Maya. 90 percent of the skulls recovered at Maya sites show evidence of being artificially shaped.

Mothers began deforming their children’s skulls shortly after birth by applying devices such as splints, cradleboards, or tightly wound cloth. The practice of head hspaing was a regular part of pre-Hispanic life and was required for a child’s integration into society, which often took the form of hetz mek, or naming celebrations.

The practice of shaping the head was a body modification that existed from the Preclassic through the Classic periods» in Maya history and was used to show membership in a particular “family or community group” since, by the Classic period, the shapes began to take on a variety: slanted like the Maize God‘s head; flattened foreheads; elongated up; formed into two distinctive globes» .

From our cultural perspective, the practice seems barbaric and horrible when we consider that this was being done to children without their consent and imposed upon them forcibly. But then, perhaps the same will be said of some of our own practices by future civilizations: “look at how barbaric these people were! They cut the genitalia of infant boys and forced adolescents to wear wired attachments to shape their teeth!”

As modifications to mark social status and rank, the preoccupation with shaping the heads of both males and females among the ancient Maya isn’t really hard to understand, if only because it isn’t the result we find objectionable, but the method of obtaining that result. We can look among each other and see all sorts of pierced tongues and lips, tatoos in painful locations, gold teeth (the Maya were very in to dental modification as well), and so on, each of which are used to promote status or define the individual as his or her own agent.

But did the Maya simply see this as a social practice? Were they only defining themselves as common to a clan or family?

Or were these body modifications a form of worship or a demonstration of piety to their gods? The Maize God is depicted in Maya art as having a slanted head and foliage for hair. The Maya ruler, K'inich Janaab' Pakal» imitates this as depicted on his sarcophagus lid and several busts, reliefs, and murals of him. The photos below show the Maize God on the top and Pakal on the bottom.

Also, many examples of Maya art probably weren’t really “art” at all but, rather, a way of revering their gods -depicting them in full regalia. Pakal was the personification of the Sun and Maize Gods on Earth, perhaps in much the same way Egyptian rulers were personfications of gods like Atum and Horus.

Women also based their appearance on the gods^[2] and they made use of blue pigment, stylized hair, and large, obvious bits of jewelry.

If the Maya modified their appearance out of piety, they also did so out of vanity and were concerned with looking youthful, healthy and elegant. Pakal reached his 80s before dying, but every depiction of him, all the way to the end, shows him to be a young, vibrant man.

Related articles

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• Extreme archaeology: Divers plumb the mysteries of sacred Maya pools (sciencedaily.com)
• Guatemalan tomb reveals evidence of child sacrifice (independent.co.uk)

1. Tiesler, Vera (2009). Beautiful Skulls. Archaeology, 62 (1), p. 39
2. Miller, Mary (2009). Extreme makeover: how painted bodies, flattened foreheads, and filed teeth made the Maya beautiful. Archaeology, 62 (1), p. 36-42

I recently had the pleasure of reading Ruth Benedict’s The Chrysanthemum and the Sword, an ethnography done in an experimental style just at the end of World War II in 1946. Benedict studied anthropology under Franz Boas and was the friend (and lover, I believe) of Margaret Mead. There’s plenty I could go one to say about Benedict, but I wanted to share my reflections of her book, Chrysanthemum, as well as an article written by anthropologist Sonia Ryang, Chrysanthemum’s Strange Life: Ruth Benedict in Postwar Japan, which is critical of Benedict. I’ll also briefly discuss an essay written by Barbara Babcock, which is appears as a book chapter in Women Writing Culture (1996), titled Not in the “Absolute Singular: Rereading Ruth Benedict”.

I’ve listed each of these at the bottom of this post for those interested.

Each of the readings dealt in some way on the nature of experimental ethnography. Benedict necessarily made use of it, perhaps due in part to her deafness, but primarily because the culture she was tasked with examining was an enemy state at the time she began collecting and analyzing data. She presented her conclusions in The Chrysanthemum and the Sword in a narrative well-suited for popular audiences and drew both criticisms and praises for her efforts, which seems, ironically, to parallel her characterization of “but also’s” mentioned on the book’s very first page.

According to Benedict, the Japanese were variously described as “unprecedentedly polite, but also insolent and overbearing.” They were “incomparably rigid in their behavior,” but also willing to adapt to new innovations. According to Ryang, Benedict’s Chrysanthemum was variously reviewed as admirable but also propaganda; “anthropologically valid” but also without “academic value.”

During my reading of Chrysanthemum, I found myself thinking skeptically of Benedict’s methods. How was she able to make the various conclusions she did based on documentary and literary materials and personal interviews of informants removed from the culture? Where these perceptions skewed by an occidental lens of examination and did Benedict rely, consciously or unconsciously, on data that supported her expectations, assigning other data to mere anomaly or ignoring it altogether? As an archaeologist, I tend to take a very empirical and positivist approach to data. Still, the experimental nature of Benedict’s approach to ethnography appealed to me and I found her narrative compelling.

While not entirely abandoning my skepticism, I eventually found myself siding with Benedict’s point of view, trusting her perspective and insight. I read Chrysanthemum with an intent to keep in mind the context of the its contemporary issues: the end of a brutal war with an enemy hated by many Americans; the understanding that Japan was, at that time, a surrendered nation -defeated by an enemy it swore to fight to the bitter end; and the reality that the Japanese people would need to rebuild and press on in a post-war world. I considered that Benedict wasn’t merely a disinterested and objective observer, but that she could also have been propagandizing a case for an Americanized or westernized post-war Japan. I also considered that Benedict was romanticizing Japanese culture, as there was no shortage of entertaining and interesting anecdotes, which related to some aspect of wartime Japan that was otherwise mysterious, alien, or otherwise unexplainable under western or occidental terms.

In spite of my natural skepticism, I couldn’t, however, see Ryang’s point of view with regard to Chrysanthemum. To me, Benedict was making an attempt to understand the beliefs, values, and culture of a nation that differs drastically from her own. To do this, she focused, in my mind, appropriately on gender, class and childhood rearing. As example, this passage seems to illustrate her intent:

The arc of life in Japan is plotted in opposite fashion to that in the United States. It is a great shallow U-curve with maximum freedom and indulgence allowed to babies and to the old. Restrictions are slowly increased after babyhood till having one’s own way reaches a low just before and after marriage. This low line continues many years during the prime of life, but the arc gradually ascends again until after the age of sixty men and women are almost as unhampered by shame as little children are. In the United States we stand this curve upside down. Firm disciplines are directed toward the infant and these are gradually relaxed as the child grows in strength until a man runs his own life when he gets a self-supporting job and when he sets up a household of his own. The prime of life is with us the high point of freedom and initiative. Restrictions begin to appear as men lose their grip or their energy or become dependent. It is difficult for Americans even to fantasy a life arranged according to the Japaneses pattern. It seems to us to fly in the face of reality.

Do you see both points of view?

Benedict acknowledges the differences between American and Japanese cultures with regard to child rearing, and, seemingly without judgment of which is better or worse, remarks on the difficulty Americans would have even imagining life as a Japanese. Perhaps a passage like the one above can be viewed in much the same way as the illusion of the vase which can also appear as two people facing one-another depending on the mental perspective of the observer.

Ryang certainly seems to see an aspect of the image Benedict illustrates that I do not since she notes at the outset of her paper and again later that her chief criticism is Benedict’s failure to acknowledge “Japan’s colonial and imperial history before 1945.” Had Benedict taken this approach, surely Chrysanthemum would have been a very different book: perhaps more history of a nation and less an ethnography of a culture. Ryang was also critical of Benedict for not discussing Japan’s need to acknowledge its former colonies or even pay them reparations. Again, such an economic or political discourse would seem outside the scope of what Benedict seemed interested in accomplishing. Moreover, one wonders what amount of insight, expertise, or understanding of Asiatic politics would have allowed Benedict to effectively or accurately comment on such matters when one considers Chrysanthemum published just a few scant months following the war’s end.

Babcock presents to the reader, through her work “Not in the Absolute Singular: Rereading Ruth Benedict” (written several years prior to Ryang’s), quite a different picture from Ryang of Benedict. Instead of the propagandizing member of a victorious nation, Babcock describes a Benedict that accepted Franz Boas’s emphasis on empiricism and scientific method in anthropology but also willing to apply a certain measure of abstraction to her data in order to make her ethnographies more palatable to the reader.

Throughout Chrysanthemum, Benedict cites Japanese literature and stories, often including passages to which she offers her own commentary to tie the work in with her conclusions. The stories, along with her distinctive literary style, serve to bring the narrative to life, give it interest, and present an ethnography in a way that it becomes accessible to the average reader and not just the academic. An example of Benedict’s use of Japanese literature is her retelling of the children’s story about Hachi, the cute dog.

Hachi is a cute dog. As soon as he was born he was taken away by a stranger and was loved like a child of the house. For that reason, even his weak body became healthy and when his master went to his work every morning, he would accompany him (master) to the street car station and in the evening around the time when he (master) came home, he went again up to the station to meet him.
In due time, the master passed away. Hachi, whether he knew of this or not, kept looking for his master every day. Going to the usual station he would look to see if his master was in the crowd of people who came out whenever the street car arrived.
In this way days and months passed by. One year passed, two years passed, three years passed, even when ten years had passed, the aged Hachi’s figure can be seen every day in front of the station, still looking for his master.

Benedict uses this story to document both the nature of on, which she refers to as a type of debt or obligation and to also point out that from the time they are children, Japanese are taught their places in the hierarchies of family and society. And it allows her to introduce the concept, as she saw it, of the Japanese obligation to the Emperor.

On is always used in this sense of limitless devotion when it is used of one’s first and greatest indebtedness, one’s ‘Imperial on.’ This is one’s debt to the Emperor, which one should receive with unfathomable gratitude.

This concept of on as a form of obligation or debt is a topic central to Benedict’s desire to demonstrate the hierarchical nature of Japanese society. Ryang comments on this point as she cites some of the sources she used, but, for me, it only served to provide an interesting question about on as a concept.

Folklorist Yanagita Kunio takes a similar line as Minami, although Yanagita is more detailed in counter-examples that are drawn from linguistic data. For example, Yanagita points out that the term on that plays a central part in Benedict’s understanding of hierarchical human relations in Japan is in fact not part of daily language in today’s Japan; the term originated in China. Yanagita suggests that Benedict misunderstood the term on used in state-engineered propaganda as a term used by ordinary people, another point that had already been made by Tsurumi, Kawashima, and Minami. He attributes the cause of Benedict’s misunderstanding to the false self-representation that the Japanese state disseminated to the world through prewar and wartime propaganda.

The questions Ryang’s point gives rise to is what then, truly becomes the significance of on? If the Japanese government borrowed this from China, when and why was it done? Was this accepted by the Japanese citizenry? If we accept that the cause is changed, is the effect still the same?

Other questions that came to mind during these readings had to do with empirical results and positivist approaches to obtaining data. I found that Babcock’s essay reinforced my trust in the information Benedict was providing through her ethnography. This was due mainly to the understanding of how she came to be an anthropologist studying under Franz Boas. I still found, however, that I wanted to know more about the data. What documents did Benedict use to gather information from? What data did she discard, ignore, or find to not useful in her research? What informants did she rely on? What were their backgrounds and qualifications as informants? What biases did the informants have?

Bibliography

Babcock, Barbara (1996). “Not in the Absolute Singular.” In Behar and Gordon (eds.) Women Writing Culture. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.

Benedict, Ruth (1946). The Chrysanthemum and the Sword. Boston: Houghton Mifflen.

Ryang, Sonia (2002). Chrysanthemum’s Strange Life: Ruth Benedict in Postwar Japan. Asian Anthropology. 1(1): 87-116