Sourcing the Cargos of Three Archaic Shipwrecks: Kekova Adası, Kepçe Burnu, and Çaycağız Koyu
Archaic Revivals and Shamanism in the Liberal Global Imaginary
Transcript of Archaic Revivals and Shamanism in the Liberal Global Imaginary
Telos 2015 Conference Paper
Paper Title: “Archaic Revivals and Shamanism in the Liberal Global Imaginary”
A long-running undercurrent of Romanticism, imagining itselfas inheritor of the Greco-Roman civilization, merges ancient pastoral aestheticswith modern, alienated nostalgia for a return to nature or to the “pre-political.” With the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, postcolonialism, and postsecularism the concept of “rights” has taken an increasingly positive turn.Earlier conceptions of “freedom from” increasingly become “freedom to.” Liberal flourishing, especially since the 1960s, manifests in exorcising the right to transgress various borders and identities. The rhetorics of sustainability and ecocriticism, which often reflect Romantic engagements with “nature,” potentially mask their own entrenchment within the force of history by pining for awider conception of “the human.” This is enormously seductive in popular entertainment. Thus, thinkers like Terence McKenna have advocated an “Archaic Revival” and a return to shamanic culture as anodyne for the trials of globalization. Fusing with recent research on neuroscience and psychedelics, the figure of the shaman as border-crosserarises as a locus of desire for postsecular and transhuman subjectivities. This paper attempts to tease out what Lauren Berlant calls “cruel optimism” inherent in the variety of historical narratives – humanistic, Darwinian, and biopolitical – that accompany recent “Western” attempts (in a long line of them) to overcome history itself by focusing on the figure of the Shaman in popular and Anthropological discourses. Based on the work of Michael Taussig and Mina Cheon, my aim is to shed light on the Affective place of the Shaman as it relates to Agamben’s “Archaelology of Glory” in talk of globalization.
Presenter: Roger K. [email protected]
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303-886-6021
Current position: English Professor, Metropolitan State University of DenverBlog: http://thoughtsandmusic.wordpress.com/
My doctoral dissertation, Beware of Mad John: Psychedelic Aesthetics, Political Theology and Literature is concerned with aspects of re-enchantment coded in artistic works that convey notions of expanded citizenship. My research interests are in Aesthetics, Ethics, Political Theology and Composition across different mediums, with particular interest in questions about how composed forms in a broad sense narrate and perform the sacred. My thesis for my Master's in Humanities deals with Emmanuel Levinas's philosophical work and avant-garde jazz in the 1960s. I am interested in aesthetic performances of the “spiritual” or “sacred” as influential in political decision-making.
Archaic Revivals and Shamanism in the LiberalGlobal Imaginary
[W]hen we have worked out this peregrination through the profane labyrinth of history, we will recover what we knew in the beginning: the archaic union with nature that was seamless, unmediated by language, unmediated by notions of self and other, of life and death, of civilization and nature. These are all dualisms that are temporary and provisional within the labyrinth of history. The Archaic Revival means that all our religions were pale imitations of the Mystery itself. (18)
Terence McKenna, The Archaic Revival (1991)
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Introduction
The shaman has long been a rhetorical figure signaling
the manifestations of a Modern European imaginary
thematically dedicated to an “evolution” of human religion.
Often what is at stake in conversations about shamanism is
convoluted by the history of knowledge production in what
some now refer to in the past tense as “the West.” For some
anthropologists, shamanism is merely an artificial construct
of modernity entrenched in the assumptions of nineteenth-
century and therefore outdated. Yet discussions of
shamanism in twenty-first century scholarship and especially
in non-academic discourse continue to persist. Although
often conceptually flawed, shamanism(s) continue to deserve
serious academic commentary because the figure itself helps
locate where history copulates with myth, where
circumstances and events become narratives. My interest
here is in describing the discursive complexity of the
shaman and shamanism(s) rhetorically rather than not to vie
for any “authentic” practice or origin.
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The source fueling shamanic “other” belongs to a
tradition of the West, whether or not the West is another
outmoded concept. Many so-called shamanic practices precede
the modern conceptions of liberalism as it developed in the
midst of the great European debate between the ancients and
the moderns. Those who claim shamanism a modern construct
locate its discursive arrival enmeshed in colonial
expansion. Thus, while many anthropological studies have
observed wide ranges of human practices that appear to be
shamanic, such projects are refracted through a politics of
looking that itself is submerged in a politics of modern
subjectivity and globalization. Discussions about shamanism
are highly motivated in obscure ways, yet Peter Frederick
Laird writes in The Encyclopedia of Modern Asia, “The relation
between shamanism and other religions is highly variable,
but in almost all cases, shamanism is under the hegemonic
pressure of polities that subscribe to universal religions
or globalizing economic ideologies.” Shamanism as a subject
is the meeting ground for theory and practice at its most
ethically important position.
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The term ‘shaman’ term entered Western discourse
through the writings of Russian protopope Avvakum during the
mid seventeenth century, so the shaman figure has long
presented a particular political-theological invention of modernity
that signals pre-liberal and pre-political ways of life “in
the wild.” As it disseminated across Western Europe over
the next few centuries, the “shaman” figure further enabled
an already existing assemblage1 of affective tendencies
which invested moderns with the hubris of the “civilized”
man; later, the same assemblages fueled antimoderns with an
ongoing Romantic nostalgia for a Paleolithic Eden sometimes,
sometimes referred to as the Archaic Revival. In 2015, my
hope is not only to describe the rhetorical and affective
texture through the theme – shamanism as such – but also to
articulate a zone of proximity between the rhetorical
aspects of discourse on shamanism and postsecular porous
subjectivities. In order to do so, I want to critique a
theme in discussions about shamanism that encourages archaic
1 See Deleuze and Guattari’s A Thousand Plateaus, Jane Bennett’s Vibrant Matter, and Kathleen Stewart’s Ordinary Affects for coverage of the term ‘assemblage.’
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revivals as solutions to liberal crises. For this analysis,
I will rely on Lauren Berlant’s affect theory and her term,
cruel optimism.
Put simply, “Cruel optimism is the condition of
maintaining an attachment to a significantly problematic
object” (Berlant 24). Berlant describes cruel optimism as
“a deictic – a phrase that points to a proximate location,”
saying that cruel optimism “attends to practices of self
interruption, self suspension, and self abeyance that
indicate people’s struggles to change, but not
traumatically, the terms of value in which their life-making
activity has been cast” (27). Cruel optimism aids in
attempts to understand historical presence outside a
sovereign subject. For Berlant, cruel optimism signals a
post neo-liberal historical present that she articulates as
a “happening” rather than an “event”: “One motive for this,”
she says, “is to describe the historical present as a back-
formation from practices that create a perceptible scene, an
atmosphere that can be returned to” (100). This historical
present acts as an environment for the ordinary: “In an
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ordinary environment, most of what we call events are not of
the scale of memorable impact but rather are episodes, that
is, occasions that frame experience while not changing much
of anything” (101). Berlant is after something alternative
to discourses of sovereignty because, for her, sovereignty
“masks in a discourse of ‘control’ the wide variety of
processes and procedures involved historically in the
administration of law and of bodies, even during periods
when sovereign rulers exerted their wills by fiat”(96).
Precisely because the “wildness” of the shaman figure hovers
at the edge of discourse on sovereignty, religion, and
citizenship, shamanism holds an allure for the call for
archaic revivals. This paper casts the idea of shamanic
practices and archaic revival as an object of cruel optimism
for liberal imaginaries in 2015, arguing that its cruelty
lies in its tendency to create a perception of change where
non has occurred. Shamanism, or what some anthropologists
call “neo-shamanism,” will be my way to theme a liberal
desire for an archaic revival because I think the affective
charge of shamanism may help to make the present more
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audible; and as Berlant says, “sounds and senses can change,
potentially, how we can understand what being historical
means” (36).
Shamanism as Rhetorical Figure
One common reaction to the figure of shamanism may be a
sneering bristle. The bristle may perhaps operate as a
moment of affective consensus among a variety of different
audiences. In other words, the gesture may look the same
but mean something radically different to each individual
who bristles. For some liberal academics, shamanism
inherits racist desires of primitivism disseminated into
what Giorgio Agamben calls the growing planetary petit
bourgeoisie. In this view, claims to shamanism align with an
uncritically neo-liberal attitude in an increasingly
globalized world while perpetuating cultural erasure with
the spread of capitalist market economy and privileged “New
Age” identities.2 Similarly, for open-minded religious
practitioners participating in public discourse, neo-2 An extreme example of this would be the organization, New Age Frauds and Plastic Shamans (NAFPS): http://www.newagefraud.org
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shamanism may signal the commodification of a “truer”
spirituality in a neo-liberal marketplace where religious
commitments can be adorned and cast-off like cheaply made
ready-to-wear clothing.3 For the strict scientific
positivist, it is New Age flimsiness and quackery
accompanying an increase in neo-shamanic practice that
signals an attack on Enlightenment rationality. For those
less skeptical, shamanism may signal an opening to
possibility for more porous subjectivity;4 and for many who
practice it as a profession shamanism is a vocational call
to a heal those in need and a legitimately ethical way to
earn a living. In this view, it is the unfolding process of
modernization combined with a secular shift from Christian
church authority in Europe that opens the possibility for
new ways of thinking. We might situate the Human Potential
Movement and neo-shamanic efforts like Michael Harner and
the journal, Shamanism here, and they may have just as much
a right to bristle at uncritical discussions of
3 See Carl Raschke’s The Interruption of Eternity for a dated yet sober version of this critique.4 For a discussion of porous verses buffered subjectivity, see Charles Taylor’s A Secular Age.
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shamanism(s). For my purposes, I only seek to highlight
that a significant amount of affective weight aggregates
around shamanism, and it only gets more complicated when
people defend shamanic practice as the resurgence of an
ancient human practice, especially one that is somehow
global.
Cruel optimisms can mask in hope – in consciousness-
raising, in perceptual shifts – ongoing cruelties. It is
not that individuals are simply duped into thinking they
have something that they actually lack, and it is not a
simple matter of symbolic displacement to cover up a trauma.
In a postsecular discussion, one that sees a continuity of
enchantment existing throughout modernity rather than a
steady Weberian disenchantment, avowing shamanism as a
continued practice does more than optimistically “preserve”
specific groups of ancient humans’ cultural practices; it
also invokes a counter-resonance to the hegemonic figures of
the “great” religions and appeals to those who claim to be
spiritual but not religious. These indeed appear to be good
things. Archaic revivals appeal to a unified and global
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religious consciousness among humans. But for the
contemporary liberal citizen, what else does it mean to
announce one’s beliefs as shamanistic or one’s self as a
shaman? How often is the appeal to an archaic technique of
ecstasy a re-constellating event, as in Alain Badiou’s
description of St. Paul’s “he is resurrected”? Berlant’s
emphasis on cruel optimism aims to move beyond a discourse
of trauma or event by presenting a “happening” instead.
Consider the enthusiasm of the ayahausca “tourist”5 or
psychedelic tripper and his or her claim to gnosis. The
expectation, the attention to set and setting in the classic
psychedelic experience already frames the longing for an
“experience.” Such enthusiasm for entheogens ought to
resound as more than mere experiential and identity-claiming
announcements. Historically speaking, would we not expect
that in areas culturally informed by Christianity the
logical post-Christian death-defying graceful saint might
occupy the ability to move between the living and the dead?
Would this not appear natural to the inheritance of a 5 For a defense and critique of ayahuasca tourism see Ross Heaven’s “What Exactly is Ayahuasca Tourism.” Psychedelic Press, UK, Vol. 3, 2014.
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humanized, secular, and Protestant Christ that we ought to
mimic?6 Do we not regularly encounter such enchantment in
popular media where shamanism is conflated with cyberspace
and CGIs? The liberal world of fabulism and magic also
risks being conflated with shamanism in uncritical
conceptions of archaic revivals.7 Turning to the
enchantment of stories and fables may help parse this
historical and cultural construction out.
Jack Zipes, in The Irresistible Fairytale, asserts that the
persistence of fairytale enchantment in Europe arises from
modern secularist desires, especially among aristocratic and
bourgeois women writers, to code a politics of resistance to
overly Christian agendas among French royalty (25). In his
narrative, based on Richard Dawkins’ “selfish gene,”
enchantment serves secular modernity.8 Fairytales and other
enchanted stories offer liberal audiences a social imaginary
to help solve crises, but rather than relying on the classic
6 Lopez makes a similar argument for the reception of Tibetan Buddhism in the West in Prisoners of Shangri-la.7 See Mina Cheon’s Shamanism + Cyberspace.8 For Zipes’ inclusion of the concept of shaman see pages, 5, 38, 200, and 223.
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psychological defense of fairytales in writers like Bruno
Bettelheim’s The Uses of Enchantment to argue that enchanted
tales give liberal children maps of the unconscious with
which to figure out their conflicts, Zipes employs the
evolutionary argument via Dawkins and the selfish gene.9 He
does so by focusing on memes. If we are to take his
argument seriously from a cultural point of view, how can
anyone expect that any existing human culture would have any
more or less access to a prehistoric past? It would simply
be a “biological” function, and the Archaic revival itself a
meme. There would be nothing particularly enchanted about a
turn toward shamanism among Westerners in the late twentieth
and early twentieth centuries to inform an interest in neo-
shamanism.
In The Beauty of the Primitive: Shamanism and the Western
Imagination, Andrei Znamenski locates the rise of neo-
shamanism with the antimodernist countercultural movements
during the 1960s, claiming that “[p]recisely because of its
9 For the classic liberal conception of letting kids figure their problems out on their own, see Jean Jacques Rousseau’s Emile and John Locke’s Some Thoughts Concerning Education.
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antimodern associations which were now defined as virtuous,
the expression shamanism became endowed with positive
meaning. Thus, from the odd obscurantist, the shaman became
the symbol of wisdom and spiritual redemption” (364).
Terence McKenna, leading spokesman for psychedelic research
in the 1990s,10 claimed “the destruction of paganism was
probably the greatest disservice to the human psyche that
has ever been done” (17). Yet a shift in the affective
relationship to shamanism – from modernist ethnocentrism to
post 1960s exaltation – does not change enough to avoid a
cruel optimism that accompanies both scholars like Zipes and
outliers like McKenna. A committed secularist like Zipes
and an archaic revivalist like McKenna both rely on
evolutionary gratification for their arguments. Yet while
Zipes appears to be comforted by the secularism of Dawkins,
McKenna’s archaic revival attempts to re-enchant lost
spiritual connection for alienated modern liberals.
10 By spokesman I do not mean advocate. In contrast to later Timothy Leary’s calls to democratize mystical experience by ignoring the controlled set and setting expressed in The Psychedelic Experience, which radicalized Aldous Huxley’s optimism to give common people access to ecstatic experience, McKenna had a much more elitist view of who ought to be allowed to experiment with psychedelics.
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Clearly, sneering at the “new-agey” idea of the shaman
– even as its own historical construct – is
counterproductive for many reasons. A good one being that
linear, one-way conceptions of appropriations of indigenous
cultures by colonizers are insufficient for the complexities
surrounding the continuing domination of people by Western
ideological or cultural forces. The promise of archaic
return avoids responsibility for recent and present
inequities, perpetuating the liberal flourishing of those
with possessive investments in past domination while
pointing to the potential of a future imaginary that is
accessible only to a privileged few.
Among scholars of anthropology, there is a wide range
of positions concerning the concept of shamanism.
‘Shamanism’ is bound in narratives of secularization and the
Enlightenment as well as in pre-existing European
conceptions of otherness and ancient conceptions of
wildness. To briefly track some of the recent scholarly
discussion concerning shamanism, we can begin with Alice B.
Kehoe’s work, which during the 1990s excoriated the flawed
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academic legacies of Mircea Eliade and Ade Hultkrantz on
shamanism. Kehoe writes:
The European Enlightenment academic legacy that formed Eliade and Hultkrantz appropriated American Indians to roles already hoary in Herodotus’ time. Contemporary scholars [in the early 1990s] of comparative religion, as well as anthropologists, have generally moved past the Enlightenment myth and modus operandi. (388)
And yet, Kehoe’s rhetoric of “outdated” conceptions going
back to Herodotus relies on a progressively positivistic
notion, a carryover from nineteenth and early twentieth
century frames for anthropology as a scientific discipline
that informs the essentialist scholars she abhors. Twenty
years later, Thomas Dubois notes a professional explosion in
the study of ‘shamanisms’ in the plural as a way to resist
atemporal and culture-transcending notions:
Today, in the year 2010, one can see that the trends [in the study of shamanism] have only continued to growin importance, with valuable research ongoing within a number of different theoretical frameworks and a markedincrease in scholarly and popular publication venues, including new presses and journals and a bourgeoning internet presence for shamanic topics. (100)
Dubois’s Introduction to Shamanism, published by Cambridge
University Press in 2009, has two concluding chapters on
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“Shamanic Revitalizations” and “Neoshamanism.” Dubois is in
agreement with Neil Price’s essay collection, The Archaeology
of Shamanism (2001) in its assertion that any inquiry into
the history of shamanism, whether modern or premodern, must
necessarily be refracted through the lens of contemporary
groups’ interests in shamanisms.
The affective relationship in non-scholarly culture
makes the situation even more complex. By the end of the
1990s, popular thinkers like Terence McKenna were calling
for an “archaic revival” in tribute to Eliade’s description
of the “archaic techniques of ecstasy” common to many
shamans. And while a close reading of Eliade’s book does
not warrant the totalizing rejections produced by a
generation of anthropologists frustrated with armchair
intellectualism – no matter how flawed it is, Eliade has
plenty of qualifiers and does not seem nearly as hubristic
as his detractors claim – he is indeed, however, hell-bent
on carving out a syncretic and essentialized idea of
shamanism from a historically developmental perspective of
human civilization and religion. Part of Eliade’s
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conception relies on the shaman’s ability to leave the
current plain of existence, descend or ascend, and return,
hopefully recovering a lost soul in the process. And flawed
or not, many have bought into such flawed history to fuel
antimodern stances – cruel optimism indeed. As Znamenski
notes, “[a]lthough many scholars now believe that the
“ecstasy” (altered state) [described by Eliade] is not a
necessary attribute of shamanism, for many Western seekers,
this is one of the basic pillars of spiritual practice”
(viii). Indeed, Terence McKenna, while brilliant in many
ways, perpetuated such thinking in regularly in statements
such as, “These preliterate cultures have an unbroken
tradition of shamanic understanding and ethnomedicine that
reaches back to Paleolithic times and beyond” (29). McKenna
casts himself as an outlier writer to anthropological
discourse (67) while radicalizing Eliade’s thought toward a
holographic transcendence of materiality, echoing other
thinkers in the early 1990s like Francis Fukuyama who, with
completely different politics, claimed the end of history.
McKenna writes:
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All technological history is about producing prototypes of this situation with greater and greater closure toward the ideal, so that airplanes, automobiles, space-shuttles, starships of the nuts-and-bolts, speed-of-light type are, as Mircea Eliade said, “self-transforming images of flight that speak volumes about man’s aspiration to self-transcendence”
Our wish, our salvation, and our only hope is to end the historical crisis by becoming the alien, by ending alienation, by recognizing the alien as the Self…(93)
Neo-shamanism indeed appears to rest upon the opening of
liberal subjectivity, which may indeed account for the
continued Romantic nostalgia accompanying the overtly
political resonances of the etymology of the term,
‘liberal,’ in the early nineteenth century.
There is an ongoing scientific problem for shamanism
accompanying a simple lack of empirical evidence for all of
the features of shamanism in archaic societies. The late
twentieth century academic emphasis on historical
materiality attempted the kind of social critique a dying
political Left had employed into the late 1970s in the
United States. Such well-intentioned social critique among
largely cultural anthropologists to protect existing
indigenous cultures from succumbing to a growing globalized
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obliteration of culture while carrying over the Romantic
impulse to protect pre-political wards of the state. For
those anthropologists interested in maintaining that
shamanism was more than Eliade’s modernist essentialism, a
turn to Archaeology was necessary.
The ongoing problem for such anthropologist is in
archaeological evidence, which even when promising is
largely inconclusive in terms of cultural practice. As
Dubois notes, there has been plenty of recent research and
vibrant debate over ways to infer cultural practices from
artifacts. Neil Price’s Archaeology of Shamanism has loads of
examples and stresses that academic studies of shamanisms
cannot ignore the interests of (re)emergent pagan religions.
In other words, the vexed rhetorical use of shamanism is not
a mere matter of academics versus New Agers. More critical
attention to the connotative layers of the concept may help
relieve some of the cruel optimism.
Both in Znamenski’s characterization of Western seekers
as well as among anthropologists’ debates, ecstatic
experience is often one of the distinguishing features of
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shamanism. Use of psychedelics or entheogens for
consciousness alteration, while not the only consciousness-
altering technique, is often in close proximity to shamanism
and marks the liberal imaginary’s interest as an ultimately
biopolitical question. Advocates from different cultural
locations such as Michael Winkelman and Terence McKenna both
construct evolutionary arguments for the role of entheogens
in human civilization. In addition, John A. Rush’s recent
book, Entheogens and the Development of Culture (2013), continues to
track mythological criticism and the evidence for embedded
practices of entheogen use in Western classics.
The evolutionary argument plays an important role in
rhetorical enquiry into the place of shamanism in the
liberal imagination. Jan Irvin’s concluding essay in Rush’s
collection points to the association R. Gordon Wasson, the
mycologist and Vice president of J.P. Morgan, had with the
CIA during the 1950s while making magic mushrooms and
Mazatec shaman Maria Sabina famous among the United States’
counterculture during the 1960s. The cultural history of
entheogens, shamanism, and what legitimately counts as a
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binding religion are thus highly enmeshed with the
territorialized State while the cultural desire for a
transcendent shamanistic religion arguably pushes toward a
cosmopolitan or more crassly globalized citizenship. The
cruelly optimistic tendency here, I believe, is in this
contradiction between a sovereign body (or state) acting as
a transcendent cultural witness (or religion in the sense of
binding) to the liberal flourishing of the individual’s
ecstatic or even psychedelic experience; it relies on the
old privilege to imagine one’s self as other while
presenting its self as morally exceptional due to a
communion with the persistently difficult concept of nature,
which I believe is often dogmatically masked as a self-
congratulatory overcoming of Cartesian dualism by an
attention to body, mind, and spirit. Laudable as such
attempts may be, they tend to rest on an ignorance of
history rather than a solution to historical problem, and
closer historical analysis situates the problem of shamanism
as preceding Descartes’ cogito, something with which strong
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critics of shamanism like Alice Kehoe, who dates the problem
to Heraclitus, would likely agree.
The cruel optimism resonating around shamanism and
neoshamanism,11 is essentially nostalgic, homesick, and
deterritorialized. As Michael Taussig has shown in his
ethnographic and critical work on shamanism in South
America, the eruption of the shamanic vocation in the
colonies imported the European idea of the “wild man” to the
“new world.” Wildness, according to Taussig,
Raises the specter of the death of the symbolic function itself. It is the spirit of the unknown and the disorderly, loose in the forest encircling the cityand the sown land, disrupting the conventions upon which meaning and the shaping function of images rest. Wildness challenges the unity of the symbol, the transcendent totalization binding the image to that which it represents. Wildness pries open this unity and in its place creates slippage and a grinding articulation between signifier and signified. Wildnessmakes of these connections spaces of darkness and lightin which objects stare out in their mottled nakedness while signifiers float by. Wildness is the death space of signification. (219)
The violence of signification, of substitution, introduces
the construction of the abatement of wildness with the
arrival of narrative. History would be ancillary here and 11 See Dubois’s discussion of the variants of ‘neoshamism’
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need not be exclusively tied to narration, since myths may
also employ narration yet precede history. Taussig sees
something optimistic here.
To see the myth in the natural and the real in magic, to demythologize history and to reenchant its reified representation; that is a first step. To reproduce the natural and the real without this recognition may be tofasten ever more firmly the hold over the mythic. (10)
The poetics here inspire what will become Taussig’s ficto-
criticism in The Magic of the State, a fabulist breakthrough for
the writing of participant observation favored by the post-
Eliade generation of anthropologists. Is Taussig’s writing,
complete with beautiful analyses of magical-realist
literature, itself nostalgic? Is he, like Nietzsche, in his
second introduction to The Birth of Tragedy, embarrassed by his
own nostalgia? I don’t think so. But the method of a
rigorous approach to the historical influence of fictions as
producing present fantasies seems to me distinct from the
conveniently causal explanations produced by the old
evolutionary argument, with the possible exception of
Michael Winkelman’s work.
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Michael Winkelman’s evolutionary rhetoric is steeped in
historicizing the biological development of the brain,
implicitly suggesting that a biological history of human
life since the development of the neocortex might be a
better place marker for universal history. Because of this,
one can situate Winkelman’s sensibility along with advocates
of the wider sense of Anthropocene, dating it to late
Paleolithic era. Seductive for arguments about entheogens,
Winkelman sees the early use of psychedelics by shamans as
catalyzing the higher-order integrative brain processing
that distinguishes modern and archaic Homo sapiens. Part of
the rationale here is that the development of the human
brain benefited from the imaginary situations produced by
hallucinations, which built on the reptilian brains fight-
or-flight responses, explaining the common overlap between
psychedelics and paranoia – what Aldous Huxley called
“Heaven and Hell,” referencing Blake and Swedenborg.
Psychedelics, according to Winkelman, manifested imaginary
structures to map potential situations where humans might be
victims, producing the ability to think, reason and plan.
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He even cites studies where chimpanzees show aversion to
psychedelics while humans gravitate toward them. Shamanic
use of entheogens in this line of thinking indeed risks
becoming a kind of pithecanthropus erectus. Implicitly, the
argument asks its audience to remove encultured mistrust of
psychedelics, especially since the Nixon administration’s
declaration of the so-called “war on drugs,” and reopen
research into the health benefits of psychedelics, which may
just solve the long debate between enchanted religion and
science in a postsecular age.
While I am not at all opposed to the effects of such
implications to remove regulations on psychedelic research,
the nostalgic affect here masks the politically historical
situation while asserting the prevalence of positivistic
science. Here positivism does not hold argumentative sway
because it is epistemologically or logically superior but
because it serves an affectively moral optimism that is
ultimately cruel. The cruelty, again, comes as a license
for the liberal subject to be free to “not be me,” and here
is where liberal privilege continues to be a problem.
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Winkelman’s biological descriptions are convincing but
much of his analysis of shamanism, like Terence McKenna’s,
relies on Eliade’s work. I have already asserted that
Eliade does not deserve the totalized rejection some
scholars have made regarding his work, the lack of attention
to criticism of Eliade, from I. A. Lewis’s Ecstatic Religion to
Alice Kehoe’s Shamans and Religion, needs more attention.
While Winkelman addresses both of them, his claim that
“Although Eliade’s impressionistic and selective methods
deserve criticisms from modern [21st century] ethnological
research, his conclusions were, nonetheless, on target”
(59), which he then goes on to cite his own previous
research with, is unconvincing. His argument about the
integrative capacities of psychedelics to produce
religiosity in humans is, however, compelling. Indeed, it
appears to corroborate the recent ethnographic research of
Nicolas Langlitz, published in his book, Neuropsychedelia,
which documents the emergence of spiritual and religious
discussion in even the most positivistic labs in the United
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States and Switzerland that have been allowed to do
psychedelic research on human subjects.
The cruel optimism here is the idea that entheogens
offer access to universalism, that in using them, humans
recover ancient shamanic practices that re-invoke our
supposed original transcendence over nature by being, not
masters over nature, but stewards of it. Such optimism is
cruel not just in its perpetuation of modernity’s displaced
nostalgia, which Marx called alienation from labor – that
tautology where the recovery from alienation is fueled by
the desire for a return to a pre-alienated state, an
existence thriving on the amnesia for the trauma in which it
lives. By appealing to a “better” time as an escape from
current crises, such rhetoric seeks to build its own
dwelling in the utopic future of the fictional past.
Berlant suggests in her analysis of cruel optimism
that it exceeds the wheel-spinning discourse of trauma while
also avoiding the necessarily utopic functions of fiction
(the novel). Some of Neoshamanism’s uncritical adherence to
the idea that history can be overcome by appealing to the
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entheogens’ abilities to make us what we are today, while
well-intentioned in its projection toward a better future,
risks avoiding existing inequities. This is certainly no
claim against practicing shamans or the use of psychedelics
as entheogens. However, one must remain critically aware of
the potential flat-lining of risk that resonates with cruel
optimism. As Berlant writes:
A change of heart, a sensorial shift, intersubjectivity, or transference with a promising object cannot generate on its own the better good life:nor can the collaboration of a couple, brothers, or pedagogy. The vague futurities of normative optimism produce small self-interruptions as the utopias of structural inequality. (“Cruel Optimism” 37)
One could certainly ask whether or not the appeal of
psychedelics or shamanism currently exists as normative. I
would argue, however, that the convention in the United
States since the late 1960s has been to affirm liberal
flourishing in spite of government control. The affect has
been to establish a citizenship whose moral authority
transcends that of the nation state, which is why the rite
of illegal drug use becomes for many a rite of passage, a
passage into a conflicted realm of parochially protective
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liberalism that seeks to affirm one’s potential without ever
saying, “grow the fuck up.” The rhetoric of return to a
truly archaic life perpetuates ahistorical dogmatic slumber
and ought to be replaced with one critically attentive to
why shamanism as a concept is at times an appropriate
synecdoche for current global problems.
Conclusion
Archaic revivals are cruelly optimistic in their Romantic
appeal to a pre-political state of nature. The affective
and aesthetic appeal can seductively become conflated with a
more rigorous and scientifically informed historical
orientation based on evolution of the human brain. However,
such science, as Winkelman’s work on shamanism exemplifies
(in both good and bad ways) risks dogmatic positivism, a
rejection of aesthetics. Recent thinkers of the political
theological roots of liberalism, Victoria Kahn for example
have stressed Homo faber, man the maker. Winkelman’s work
has implicit affinity with the concept Homo ludens as put
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forth in Johan Huizinga’s 1938 book of that title, which
introduced concepts like the magic circle for Game Studies.
Winkelman’s integrated brain allows for a recovered sense of
Homo ludens in shamanism so long that we keep in mind works
like Mina Cheon’s Shamanism + Cyberspace, which in detailing
Korean shamanism in the last sixty years, acutely describe
the trouble of de-historicizing and de-contextualizing.
Even if one could truly claim, as promoted in the recent
film, Neurons to Nirvana, that psychedelic experiences
transcend culture, the Dalai Lama often points out that
one’s own culture remains essential to an understanding of
spirituality. Outside of religious contexts, westerners
ought to be more critical of the sway of Romanticism and
nationalism, and that even De Quincey at his most destitute
was a privileged man.
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Green 31
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