Cannibalism: A Perfectly Natural History(33)

It mattered little whether cannibalism took place in the New World or not, though, since most authors who wrote on the topic had already decided that it had. Historians and writers alike picked up on secondhand, unsubstantiated, and often fabricated stories, added a splash of red, then reported the tales as facts. In doing so they may have enthralled their audiences with the bravery of European explorers, but they did a terrible disservice to history and to the indigenous people who became less and less human with each exaggerated account. As a result, readers—both casual and scholarly—were subjected to a 500–year-long indoctrination period during which they heard little if anything about the genocidal mistreatment of native populations, or even the sociological significance of cannibalism (if the practice did occur). Far more likely, they would come away believing that Columbus and the other European explorers had fought off hordes of cannibalistic subhumans, thus sparing many a grateful savage the horrors of the cooking pot. From the New World to Africa, Australia, and the Pacific islands, cannibalism was generally perceived to be a widespread phenomenon and it would be the role of good Christians—explorers and the missionaries who invariably followed them—to take control of the situation and thus put an end to this most horrific of human behaviors.

For the most part, this public mindset concerning ritual cannibalism remained until 1979. It was then that Stony Brook University anthropology professor William Arens initiated what became a loud and serious debate over the validity of cannibalism as a social practice. In his book The Man-Eating Myth, Arens argued that, aside from some well-known instances of starvation-induced cannibalism, there was absolutely no proof that ritualized cannibalism had ever existed in any human culture. Instead, according to the anthropologist, the idea of cannibalism had become a handy symbol for unacceptable behavior practiced by “Others”—a broad and malleable category of evildoers that included enemies, followers of non-Christian religions, and any groups determined to retain their “uncivilized” customs.

“The most certain thing to be said is that all cultures, subcultures, religions, sects, secret societies and every possible human association have been labeled as anthropophagic by someone.” Essentially, then, Arens asserted that colonial groups had been guilty of making false accusations of cannibalism against native populations across the globe and throughout history. With Christopher Columbus acting as a poster boy, applying the cannibal tag justified the condemnation and, if necessary, the eradication of anyone accused of engaging in this ultimate of taboos—a practice whose validity (Arens was quick to point out) was always unsupported by anything resembling firsthand evidence.

The reaction to Arens’s incendiary book was swift and mostly negative. His colleagues referred to his man-eating-myth hypothesis as “unsophisticated” and “dangerous,” and that it “does not advance our knowledge of cannibalism.” Some critics also took the opportunity to attack Arens personally, with the most extreme assault coming from anthropologist Marshall Sahlins, who claimed that Arens had proposed his “outrageous theory” for the sole purpose of generating controversy in an effort to sell books. Sahlins took his accusations over the edge by comparing Arens to a Holocaust denier, a stance that even those who believed ritual cannibalism to be a commonplace occurrence found difficult to fathom. One anthropologist, who believed that cannibalism did occur, pointed out that Holocaust victims had been murdered because, like the Caribs, they had been labeled as Others and, as such, they became perfect candidates for extermination.

I’ve found myself agreeing with much but certainly not all of Arens’s hypothesis, in part because of the brutal pounding colonial invaders doled out to indigenous groups for centuries. On the other hand, my investigation into ritual cannibalism has led me to conclude that there is plenty of evidence to support the stance that some cultural groups practiced cannibalism and that they did so for a variety of reasons. As for the claims of Carib cannibalism, though, the fact remains that beyond the second-and third-hand accounts, there isn’t a shred of physical evidence, nor is there any indication that Columbus or his men ever witnessed man-eating firsthand.

I met Dr. Arens on a bright, sunny day in his office at Stony Brook University. He seemed apprehensive at first, but after telling him I had little interest in the sensational aspects of cannibalism and that I had an open mind regarding his own assertions on the topic, he began to open up.

He explained that when anthropologists address the more recent claims of ritual cannibalism, much of the evidence they present comes from interviews they or their associates have had with tribal elders—none of whom practice cannibalism anymore. As Arens is only too happy to point out, these former cannibals all seem to have ceased their man-eating behavior just before the arrival of the anthropologists. I gathered that this was too much of a coincidence for him to accept.

In response to this very point, Beth Conklin (who worked with the Wari’ in Brazil) argued previously that the reason anthropologists never observe cannibalism in person is because they are “seldom the first outsiders to set foot in a newly contacted society.” This role, she claimed, is filled by “missionaries, government agents, frontiersmen or traders, who see cannibalism as something to terminate immediately.” Thus, according to Conklin and others, cannibalism either ceases altogether or goes underground before it can be studied firsthand.

Conklin also raised her own concerns about the cannibal denial debate: