W a y m a r k s ~

9 August 2013

From The Heart Of The World - Alan Ereira

Another documentary, along with John Romer’s Testament and the Blair Brothers’ Ring of Fire, which had an early influence on my chosen path of study was Alan Ereira’s From the Heart of the World (1990). This film combines my two main interests, archaeology and anthropology, two subjects which I would go on to study at university.

The film begins with an account of the Tairona, a group of Pre-Columbian cultures which formed a sophisticated civilisation that flourished in South America in the centuries preceding the Spanish Conquest in the 1500s. The remains of their ancient citadels can be found in the mountainous jungle region of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta on the northern coast of Colombia, the world’s highest coastal mountain range.

Like most of the Pre-Columbian peoples of South America they were decimated by the Spanish Conquistadors who plundered their cities primarily for gold, and then subsequently exploited them and their lands, marginalising and oppressing their native culture. The film outlines this history whilst illustrating the remains of their roads and cities, which were finely attuned to their environment and constructed in such a way that meant they were not washed away by the frequent rains but instead channelled and made use of the water. The film lets the archaeologists and looters, who have each worked the sites to their own ends, speak of the remarkable things they have found, before finally introducing the Kogi people. The Kogi are the modern day descendents of the Tairona culture, an indigenous group who still live much as their ancestors may have lived, in isolation from the rest of Colombia and the wider world.

The overall premise of the film was a truly prescient one. First screened on BBC television in 1990 it was a bombshell. I remember at the time it was widely talked about. The Kogi, we were told in the opening narration, had asked Alan Ereira to come to the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta to make this film because they had a message to give to the world. The message was one which spoke of the harm which we, in the modern world, were doing to the environment. They were concerned that mankind’s actions – in mining, logging, extracting minerals and oil, intensive farming techniques, industrial air and water pollution, etc – were damaging the Earth. If we didn’t stop, they warned, we would destroy the world. This remarkable message came right at the beginnings of the debate concerning man-made climate change. Their message was clearly an early warning about global warming.

The Kogi are a people who still live very close to nature, a sedentary subsistence farming culture, their lives and their social structures are bound to their mountain environment and the ecosystems which make up the Sierra. They had noticed how the natural water cycle of their mountain was changing. The top of the range was drying out and the snows were retreating, meaning the annual melt-waters were diminishing, and this in turn was having a detrimental knock-on effect down the mountain side, through the different climate zones which they so adeptly utilise, right down to the sea itself. The Kogi’s society is seemingly centred upon maintaining an actual as well as a spiritual balance with nature, but not just in their own world. They see themselves as the Elder Brothers of the human race. They are attuned to the elemental force within nature, and they believe that it is their duty to maintain that balance and harmony for the good of the Earth and all mankind. But, we – the Younger Brother – are threatening this stability by our ignorance and through our insatiable greed. At the time, many agreed that this was an unprecedented clarion call which we would do well to heed.

The film itself appealed to me on several different levels. I was first drawn to it because, at the time, I was very interested in Pre-Columbian civilisations. I was especially interested in the Incas and the Maya, and this was the first I’d heard about the Tairona, who like many Pre-Columbian cultures were excellent goldsmiths. I’ve since seen beautiful examples of their exquisite ancient gold work in museums in London and Madrid. But the film also showed me the contemporary relevance of these past cultures in a way which was quite unexpected. I was slowly becoming very interested in the different ways humans have organised themselves into communities, the different social norms and customs upon which we have structured our societies and how these systems have changed and adapted over time. I wondered if anthropology could offer us a window onto past cultures such as the Tairona? (I later discovered that this has been one of the most hotly debated tenets of archaeology and anthropology!)

In essence, the film prompted me to think more broadly. I didn’t realise at the time, but it suggested a multi-disciplinary approach to the contemplation of history and culture. It also appealed to me on an ethical level too, with its highly contemporary view towards environmental conservation issues and the need to preserve natural spaces in which traditional societies could be allowed to continue to exist as they chose, rather than encroaching upon them, marginalising, or, at worst, forcing them to abandon their lands and livelihoods at the behest of over-reaching big business interests and advancing globalisation. This film, and Alan Ereira’s book, ‘The Heart of the World’ (1990), helped me to see how all my various interests could essentially come together as one interrelated and integrated whole.

I later met Alan Ereira. Around ten years ago, I assisted him when he was filming ancient Greek vases for one of his documentaries. Unfortunately, at the time I didn’t feel it was appropriate for me to broach him about his work with the Kogi, although there were countless questions I would have loved to have asked him at the time. I regret now that I didn’t.

I recently read that he has since made a second film about the Kogi which was officially released last year, called ‘Aluna’ (2012). ‘Aluna’ is the Kogi’s name for the spiritual world which they believe binds reality and all living things to ‘the Great Mother,’ that elemental force within nature which is essentially the Earth itself. You can find out more about the new film and view extracts from both the original and the new films here. The Tairona Heritage Trust website contains more information on the Tairona and the Kogi, as well as providing references for further reading. The two films will both be screened later this year at the Orkney International Science Festival (September 5^th, 2013), find out more here.

The British Museum, working in partnership with the Museo del Oro, will host an exhibition later this year, titled: 'Beyond El Dorado: Power and Gold in Ancient Colombia' (October 17th 2013 - March 23rd 2014). The exhibition will include some exquisite Tairona gold work.

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I’d like to express my thanks to the photographer, Simon Chaput, who has very kindly and very generously given me permission to illustrate this piece with his own images of the Kogi. His are by far the best images of the Kogi which I have seen. You can find out more about Simon Chaput and his remarkable work on his blog.

From The Heart Of The World - The Elder Brothers' Warning (1990)

Aluna - A Journey To Save The World (2012)

7 August 2013

The Seven Ages of Science - Lisa Jardine

The best telly is often found on the radio – by which I mean you often get much better quality pictures on the radio than on television.

Anyone who follows this blog on Twitter will know that I am a big fan of BBC Radio. I regularly post links there to radio programmes which have caught my interest and which I hope connect with the themes I explore here in these blog posts. In my opinion, BBC radio really is second to none for factual documentaries and discussion programmes. For instance, programmes such as Night Waves on Radio 3 or In Our Time on Radio 4 really are satisfyingly thought provoking and enlightening fare. The spoken word, the same as the written word, engages the mind in a wholly different manner to the visual stimulus of moving pictures seen on a TV screen. Don’t get me wrong though, I’m not denigrating television as a media format – you only have to pick any of David Attenborough’s series on the natural world as but merely one example of how TV can open the world up within our home in equally mind expanding ways. But I think it helps to supplement these visual feasts with other imaginative modes and means of presenting new and interesting information – and such radio programmes really are food for the mind.

Last night the first of what I think may well prove to be a landmark series began on BBC Radio 4 titled: The Seven Ages of Science. Presented by the distinguished historian, Lisa Jardine, the series intends to explore the history of science from the 17^th century onwards by placing it into the context of scientific endeavour in the world rather than simply exploring the world within science itself. Previous approaches to the history of science have very much focussed on the scientific enlightenment as a series of discoveries rather than looking at these achievements within the context of the world at the time in which they were first made. These days I think we are very much becoming increasingly aware that disciplines overlap and interact in ways which aren’t always as readily apparent as they might be. If we look at different methods and means of enquiry less as distinctly compartmentalised zones we can see that things often interact, sometimes in unusual or even unexpected ways. How often have you had a thought which was inspired by something completely unexpected or seemingly entirely unrelated? Such “eureka!” moments are often the product of unseen cumulative results coalescing together. Take Sir Isaac Newton’s famous phrase that his achievements were modestly made by his “standing on the shoulders of giants.” Professor Jardine makes the point that those giants – rather than solely being the formidable intellects of other great minds – were actually the host of humble unnamed individuals, contemporary artisans and instrument makers, who were hard at work in London perfecting clocks, microscopes, telescopes, and other instruments designed for the purposes of practical experimentation.

These scientific instruments enabled people such as Isaac Newton, Edmond Halley, Christopher Wren, and, (Lisa Jardine’s own personal hero) Robert Hooke, et al – the learned gentlemen of the Royal Society, to conduct experiments which helped them to formulate many of the scientific laws and principles which we take today as given and tested truths. As she and a host of other historians and scientists interviewed in the course of the programme testify these curious and curious-minded individuals were real people, interacting in mutually beneficial or subtly vindictive ways, cooperating or vying with one another for prestige and prominence – each driving the other ever onwards in a quest for practical and provable knowledge of the world around us. Without them science would not be what we know it as today – but, in many ways, these people weren’t so different from us, and this is perhaps why the history of science is just as important as the science itself.

A good story well told often illuminates itself without the need for fancy gimmickry or whizzy visuals. I was particularly struck by the sudden joy rising in Lisa Jardine’s voice as an original copy of Hooke’s Micrographia (1665) is produced from a shelf in the book stacks of the Royal Society. This moment encapsulates for me the joy of historical enquiry and practical research, it shows how books and things can fascinate us in ways which link us directly to the past. Much the same as her passing revelation to some visiting tourists at the start of the programme that the Monument in London, which marks the site of the little bakery where the Great Fire of London originated one fateful night in 1666, is in fact more than just a monument – it is also a giant scientific instrument. Hooke designed it such that its purpose also doubled as a tube to house a huge telescope.

Radio programmes such as The Seven Ages of Science show us how we can relate to, as much as learn from, the past. Which is certainly no bad thing. And there are six more programmes yet to come! – I’ll certainly stay tuned as I’m fascinated to hear/see how this series progresses. I wonder what other inspiring insights it will spark?