Darkness in El Dorado chronicles the devastation and death of
perhapsthousands of Venezuelan Yanomami Indians, two careers, and any
pretense of scientific objectivity. It is the story of the other side of
science--the egos and enmities that often run beneath the still waters
that are the public face of how science works.
The tale begins in the late 1960s, when Napoleon Chagnon, then a
professor at the University of Michigan, wrote many scientific papers
about a small, isolated group of Amazonian Indians. Chagnon dubbed the
Yanomami "The Fierce People," and wrote a popular book of the same name
that came to be standard fare in introductory anthropology classes. It
was Chagnon's contention that the Yanomami world revolved around warfare,
the purpose of which was to gain access to women. He argued that the
Yanomami woo by war: Those men who kill the most, get the most women--and
the opportunity to make a disproportionate contribution to the gene
pool.
Though this view was disputed by other scholars from the outset,
their voices had little chance to prevail against a provocative concept
backed by a huge budget, a dramatic film, a popular text and a pugnacious
proponent. The Yanomami even took drugs, making them the ultimate icons
for that era.
Tierney joins the early critics in raising grave doubts about
Chagnon's depiction of the Yanomami. He contends, for example, that the
Yanomami are no more murderous than other preindustrial peoples. But
Tierney's suggestion of researcher bias is the least of his accusations:
A French researcher sets up a homosexual haven for himself in one
Yanomami village, and bribes the local residents to perform sexual favors
in exchange for modern tools; Chagnon helicopters in to remote areas with
no quarantine precautions; the mistress of a Venezuelan president and a
notorious adventurer and gold miner team with the researchers to create a
private biosphere over which they would rule; warfare erupts with each
new incursion of outsiders.
Arguably the most explosive charge is that Chagnon and renowned
geneticist James V. Neel either deliberately--or through benign
neglect--administered a form of measles vaccine that was inappropriate
for an immunologically naive population and, in doing so, were
substantially responsible for a 1968 measles epidemic that savaged the
Yanomami. Neel is depicted as being on a single-minded quest to prove
there is a gene for what might loosely be dubbed "male leadership." The
measles epidemic in this isolated population was to be the ultimate data
gathering opportunity. Chagnon is painted as Ned's handmaiden in
attempting to prove this dubious bit of neoeugenic theory. Ironically,
this charge is among the least important in terms of the devastation
wreaked by social scientists on the Yanomami.
Anyone reading Darkness in El Dorado must come away asking, "Is
this any way to do research?" The book raises disturbing questions about
how social science research is--or should be--conducted, and the
obligations of researchers who work with the few remaining isolated
populations.
Darkness in El Dorado is not an easy read: Its many side paths make
it like walking into an Amazonian swamp; Yanomami personal and place
names are long and (to English-speaking minds) difficult; the information
Tierney presents is voluminous and sometimes tedious. The tale is not
neatly told. Yet it is difficult not to continue reading, and impossible
not to shudder, at the indignities inflicted on the hapless Yanomami.
They never asked for any of what they got. In the end, the reader can't
help but wonder who the fierce people truly are.
Edited By Paul Chance, PH.D.
Brian Weiss is an anthropologist-turned-writer, head of Wordsworth,
and a former editor of PSYCHOLOGY TODAY.
Tags:
anthropology,
book review,
bribes,
egos,
fierce people,
french researcher,
gene pool,
little chance,
men,
modern tools,
murder,
public face,
still waters,
tierney,
women
