Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy… With a title like that, Eliade has won half the battle. Wittingly or not, it is the perfect title for the 60s generation’s search for non-ordinary experiences. This book has had a cult following since the 60s, not comparable to Aldous Huxley’s Doors of Perception, but right up there. It’s had detractors as well. Nevertheless, this is still considered to be a foundational work in shamanism studies, hence my immense guilt at not having read it.
I have read it now, every word. I found it thorough and comprehensive, dull in many, many places, and exciting in a few. What Eliade does is to survey practices in indigenous tribes throughout the world. Right off the bat, then, he assumes shamanism is confined to tribes, the “primitive.” No mention of contemporary urban shamans, the movement to re-create shamanism, the presence of shamanistic strands in modernity, or what shamanistic elements remain in the major religions, for that matter. In general Eliade sees shamanism as something archaic. Here he means something specific to his conceptual scheme. The archaic is part of the early layers of human religious development. It’s not the oldest, though—he hints at the presence of even older layers. So shamanism is a stage that humans passed through in their evolution. By implication, groups that still practice shamanism are stuck in a primitive stage. In line with this scheme, he notes that some elements of shamanism are left over from this early archaic period, for instance the “symbolism of the center” (p. 492). And at one point (491) he indicates that archaic tribes and primitive peoples still exist. But who exactly are these people, the archaics and the primitives, and how do they differ? On this question and so many others, he fails to explain in depth.
Let me give a few examples of Eliade’s habit of touching on issues without going deep. In discussing Tibetan shamanism, he notes that Bon “…shows the transformation that a shamanic schema can undergo when it is incorporated into a complex philosophical system, such as tantrism” (437). Exactly how, and when, did this incorporation occur? He may very well be correct, that there was indeed such a transformation. But without going into more detail, we are left questioning him—not his veracity, but his grasp of the mechanism he mentions so lightly. In regard to China Eliade theorizes that “the shamanic ritual of descent…fell into disuse after the crystallization of the ancestor cult…”. Again, if this is so, we need more detail to illustrate and back it up. This is a broad statement, and I acknowledge that going deep would have required much space. Yet he doesn’t even try (458).
As Wendy Doniger admits in her introduction, Eliade is criticized for his use of the primitive label, among other things. She defends him, partially, as being a product of his times. Beyond that she notes he had valuable points to make beyond the stubborn adherence to his framework. But this is not what bothers me most about Eliade’s work. What grates is his habit of playing fast and loose with associations, such as a vague connection of shamanism with magic and sorcerers. Most of these connections aren’t spelled out, they’re simply assumed.
What’s missing here, I conclude, is an ethnographic sensibility, where the researcher gives nuance and sheds light on the informants thoughts. This is what I value, in my own relatively meager lines of research. But I’m not alone in wanting to know what the subjects of research think. Years ago the folklorist Alan Dundes was the outside member on my dissertation committee. He criticized my dissertation for not going into more of what my subjects thought. Perhaps criticism is too strong; what he said was that the section describing their world view was the most interesting, and he wanted more. And more is what I want from Eliade, more of what the subjects say and think. That way I as a reader will get a deeper picture of this thing called shamanism.
Eliade’s habit of touching on things and moving quickly became clear pretty early on. To get around this I started my own mini-project. I began to take notes on every indigenous term for “shaman,” so that I could respect the distinctions between cultures, and not blur them all in the etic category called “shaman.” Here is a partial list of the indigenous terms Eliade mentions:
pimo: a Lolo priest-shaman
Llü-bu: Na-khi sorcerer
ndo po: Moso sorcerer
srung-ma: guardian of the faith
dto-mba: Moso faster/founder, = Tibetan ston-pa
t’iaoshen: Chinese “sorcerer”
wu/wu-shi/saikung: shaman (per de Groot)
messlthe: Georgian sorcerer
pammo/nyen-jomo: Bon mediums
wee: Karen priests (similar to su)
sai kung=taoshi=“Taoist doctor” [道士]
saman: Tungusic, = Turkic kam (gam)
Equating all these culturally-specific roles with the category “shaman,” not to mention something broader like shaman-sorcerer-healer-magician, is painting with a broad brush indeed. As I read on it became clear that Eliade intended to treat each particular example as an instance of a universal type. Perhaps this is defensible. Frustratingly, he doesn’t spend much time defining the boundaries of this ideal type. He simply uses the term shaman loosely.
Shaman is not the only such term not well-defined. Another is ecstasy. Here he does partially satisfy my desire for some clarity: around page 395 he reveals that ecstasy is something vastly different from Plato’s contemplation: “it is through ecstasy that man fully realizes his situation in the world and his final destiny.” Ecstasy, he goes on, is “the archetype of gaining existential consciousness.” Then, on page 493, he explains that shamanic ecstasy is “…a recovery of the human condition before the ‘fall’”. So it’s a primordial leftover! This is the “trippy” side of Eliade, where he reveals a corner of his framework for interpreting the spiritual. It is a shame it came too late in the book to be of much use in understanding most of his examples.
This style of offering partial explications, where he whets the appetite without offering respite, crops up in several other places. On page 411 he explains that the ecstatic experience, here specifically meaning shamanic flight, “…becomes communicable through universally current symbolism, and is validated to the extent to which it can enter into the already existing magico-religious system.” Absolutely interesting, but it is given without further explanation. He hints at “religious ensembles” connected to ecstasy. Frustratingly, he doesn’t spell out the connection. Elsewhere, he mentions “ecstasies and frantic ceremonies” of secret societies (467). Honestly, I’d like to know more, but he doesn't stop to explain.
Other aspects of his framework are revealed as he proceeds, but sparingly. For instance, he lays out some timelines: the earliest form of shamanism was found in Europe c. 25,000BC, he tells us, as evidenced in the bird drawing at Lascaux Caves (504). I suspect such lines of thought are related to his history of religions perspective. I could buy into it, but I want more spelled out. Maybe he does this elsewhere, perhaps in his preceding work, Patterns in Comparative Religion (1949). Still, if you mention something, you should be prepared to give the reader enough to understand what you mean. That at least is current academic practice.
Another major criticism is Eliade’s problem with simply accepting shamanic practices without giving his take on them. Walking on swords, for example, is “an endemic example of spontaneous pseudoshamanism…whose most important characteristic is its easiness” (456). How can he label some practices “pseudo” and others authentic? At least he should tell the reader why walking on swords is not authentic. In another spot, page 493, he labels some practices “abhorrent,” which indicates to the reader that he deems other practices to be acceptable. Again, who gets to make that call?
He has a particular problem accepting drug use by shamanism. Narcotics, he says, indicate “decadence in shamanic technique,” a “vulgarization” (401). At the same time he notes hemp is the most elementary technique of ecstasy. He also states that agarics musdarinus, the shamanic mushroom, though widely used, is another “degradation.” Overall, the use of narcotics “indicates decadence of technique of ecstasy…” (477)
In the same vein he often denigrates other practices: one thing is “far from shamanism proper…” (462). So there’s a proper shamanism? Who gets to make that call? Another thing “does not fit into the structure of feminine magic…” (464). Where did feminine magic come in? Here a bit more explanation, even one or two-sentences, would have helped to make his point clear.
One could argue that all scholars and anthropologists of that generation made such sweeping generalizations. I must differ there. Boas and Evans-Pritchard were able to give nuanced and less value-laden descriptions of their informants. Given Eliade’s total dependency on the work of ethnographers and anthropologists, I wish more of this anthropological sensibility had rubbed off.
Eliade’s style of writing, while academic, is usually polished and fluent. Still the meaning can be murky. His sentences sometimes verge on gobbelygook: “Our final impression is always that a shamanic schema can be experienced on different though homologizable planes, and this is a phenomenon that extends far beyond the sphere of shamanism and can be observed in respect to any religious symbolism or idea.” (457) A tough editor today would not let this pass.
My criticisms should not blind us to the mass of amazing material here. For instance, he notes how dressing in animal skins is a way of going out of the self (459.) (Yes! Role play rocks.) On the next page he notes how ecstasy is similar to the climax of orgasm. I like the suggestion, even though I suspect it's just him guessing.
There are plenty of other suggestive images to stimulate the imagination inside these covers, for instance the octopod horse (469). It is sad that his details obscure some of the universal qualities he tries to outline. I sense there is something universal about shamanism; this is an intuition still shared by many practitioners and researchers. But I conclude that the methodology Eliade uses—reams of examples without much analysis—does not serve to make the case. The wealth of examples often feel forced. Instead of seeking equivalencies between different practices, I would prefer the writer acknowledge differences between practices and instead work to rigorously discover the core shamanic elements. This has been done by Michael Harner and others. Perhaps Doniger sums it up best when she says that “Eliade argued boldly for universals where he might more safely have argued for widely prevalent patterns.”
So what in the end is Eliade's contribution? Can this work still be called great? The scholarship here is certainly a tour de force. But Eliade’s true contribution is that he set the stage for the following generation of shamanic scholarship. As such Shamanism remains a must-read.