Cannibal: Part Five
RACHEL ATTITUQ QITSUALIK
Interestingly, most such accusations of cannibalism seem to originate from among the ranks of syncretists. It is telling that — in the Americas, anyway — only the largest and most well-organized nations are accused of it. A good eastern North American example is the Iroquois. A Mexican example is the Aztec. Such accusations are not of ritual cannibalism, but rather that the cultures were thinking, “Oh goody, stew.”
It is quite possible that colonial powers — clergy and traders both — confident in the supremacy of their own cultures, might have been unnerved by the sight of high civilization among those native Americans they had pre-judged to be “savages.” As I’ve already stated at the beginning of this series, attribution of cannibalistic practice is a popular method by which to strip a foreign culture of its legitimacy.
Yet is it possible that there was some truth to such reports? The occurrence of cannibalism is a fact. New Guineans, for example, still proudly cling to their cannibalistic roots — and there exists actual film documentation of the outbreak of the kuru disease among them. Similar to mad cow disease, kuru spreads through the practice of feeding cows their own rendered dead.
Then there are the contemporary cannibals: Jeffrey Dahmer, claiming “love” of those he pickled and pan-fryed; Andrei Chikatilo, claiming that certain parts were “tasty”, that he liked to “nibble” them; Ed Gein, claiming that womens’ heads were preferable for their long hair. Say what you want about psychosis or simple evil, these characters prove that cannibalism is not entirely mythical.
The psychopathic cannibals actually provide us with a clue as to how the human race approaches the eating of its own kind: cannibalism represents special circumstance. All occurrences of cannibalism represent some attempt by an individual or society to correct an imbalance, a loss or threat to social or personal paradigms.
While mythical accounts typically portray cannibals as having a mere dietary preference for human flesh, true cannibals are always self-limiting in their consumption, depending on their goals. Criminal cannibals act to fulfill a distinct psychological need. Starving cannibals eat to preserve their lives. Societal cannibals eat specific parts to:
1. Honor or assume the strength of enemies and/or ancestors;
2. Celebrate the capture or killing of an enemy (ex: Aztec).
3. Mark an important change (ie: ancient Greeks eating their kings).
This seems evident even in some missionary accounts:
…severed the head from the shoulders, throwing it to the crowd, where someone caught it to carry it to the Captain Ondessone, for whom it had been reserved, in order to make a feast therewith.
— 17th century account of Father LeJeune, in describing the Iroquois killing of an Algonkian captive.
It bears out even in what we know of other mammals. Nearly all rodent mothers, for example, tend to cannibalize their young when under extreme duress, in what seems to be an instinct to limit resource shortages. Walrus are known to produce occasional cannibalistic rogues, who actually band together to hunt down non-cannibalistic walrus. Again, the trigger seems to be stress.
The point? As ever, any extreme is a bad thing, and a label is the ultimate extreme. Under the lens of objectivity and wisdom, there are reasons behind any form of behaviour, no matter how deviant it might at first seem. Likewise, there are complicating factors in any situation that occlude the truth.
Accusations of cannibalism were always a form of social control, and this has not changed today. The cannibal is the metaphor for the monster, or those whom we wish to depict as monsters. Ultimately, if we favour wisdom, we must choose our words carefully — for a word, like an impelled fist, is a manifestation of will, and will is the only true fire that we have stolen from the gods — a fire that may forge a nation, or blast it into sterility.
Who next becomes the cannibal when our mood again turns?
Pijariiqpunga.
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