Tag: Martin Doutré

“Bad Archaeology?” More like “Good writing.”

From time to time my blog’s base system likes to tell me that people have linked to my posts. Most of the time these links are from sites that seem to specialise in Russian pornography, which indicates the fine taste of my international readers. However, on ocassion, I do get a more academic-y link, like this one from “Bad Archaeology.”

The article deals with one Badger H. Bloomfield, who I\ve had dealings with in the past, and basically says things I could be saying, only the author has a way with words and isn’t suffering the apathy I seem to currently have with the typing of characters into text boxes on computer screens. I recommend you read the post, for it is good.

The Letters

Due to popular demand, here are the three letters sent to the Herald (mine included) dealing with the publication of the puff piece on the Celtic New Zealand Thesis.

New Zealand Herald, Thursday, May 7th, 2009

New Zealand Herald, Thursday, May 7th, 2009

New Zealand Herald, Friday, May 8th, 2009

New Zealand Herald, Friday, May 8th, 2009

New Zealand Herald, Thursday May 14th, 2009

New Zealand Herald, Thursday May 14th, 2009

But is it news?

So, Martin Doutré has himself some free publicity for the Celtic New Zealand thesis in today’s issue of the Herald. The evidence; boulders.

Celtic Boulders.

Well, round concretions; about a dozen of them. These concretions, up to 3 metres in diameter, were uncovered about thirty-eight years. The mystery, apparently, is how they ended up on top of a hilltop, because:

“It sparked a lot of mystery over how they got there,” said Mr Doutré. “They were concretion boulders, which can only form in sea sediments, yet they had made it to the top of this high, yellow clay hill.”

That sounds a little interesting, doesn’t it? Boulders in non-normal space ((That should be a prog-rock album name.)) That would suggest that the boulders had been moved, in some way. Could it be that they were moved by human hands?

Geological Society spokesman Bruce Hayward said there was no mystery how the boulders got on thehill.

He said they were 70 million years old and pushed up from the sea floor and the enclosing countryside eroded over time, leaving them exposed.

Well, that seems to squash that part of the thesis.

Doutré (and his ilk) seem to have a problem when it comes to understanding site deposition; sometimes items are part of the landscape because geology, not humanity, put them there. Doutré thinks that because they are on a hilltop that they were placed there. He assumes that location is almost entirely intentional rather than accidental, which is a problem for his entire `archaeological’ method; he cannot tell the difference, by and large, between objects that are placed on a landscape versus objects that happen to be there.

Still, perhaps the boulders, as objects whose presence in the landscape can be explained entirely naturally, can still lend credence to Doutré’s thesis, because:

Some boulders showed ancient etchings of geometric designs similar to those on structures in Britain dating back to 3150BC.

The image in the article isn’t particularly clear; you can see spirals (and what looks like the Bass Clef, which is a remarkable bit of foresight by our `Celtic tangata whenua’) and the like, which somehow suggests that these markings are pre-Maori and of Celtic origin.

Because not only do we all know that there are no spiral patterns in Maori art but, really, that the only people to use the spiral in art were the Celts.

That seems to the argument, it really does.

It’s a little hard to know what to say to such vacuous claims; it’s harder still to know what to say when the Herald publishes blatant puff pieces for such wacky views.

I think a few choice letters to the editor are in order. Get typing.

As I go to press (so to speak): Stephen Judd weighs in.

Protest or Attend, that is a question

Over at Map’s place (which has a vibrant comments community) discussion goes on about the Uncensored Symposium and the consensus (admittedly not a scientific survey) is that attendance = bad; protest outside = good.

I’m not sure what to think about that.

I’ve never been much of a protester; I can count the number of protests I have been on with the fingers of one hand. In part this is because I don’t like crowds (one explanation for this is that my lack of peripheral vision makes being in a crowd an uneasy sensation) and in part I’m not necessarily convinced protests are the answer. An answer to some questions, yes, but not the be all and end all of reactions to things you don’t like.

Giovanni and Paul both agree that attending the actual forum means giving them money and giving them money is a bad thing.

And I agree. You hardly want to fund these people. That seems intuitively wrong, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that people like ourselves shouldn’t attend. It might be a necessarily evil act (or rather, if I am being philosophical, it might be a morally suspicious but not necessarily morally wrong act) to attend but that cost might be outweighed but some perceived benefit, i.e. the chance to debate these people.

A quality debate, however, needs both quality and certain quantity of people; if, say, I went and no one else like-minded did, then I would be the lone nut in the room (I speak from a little experience in re how I was ignored by certain members of the Skeptics after that conference last year) and thus I would be drowned out by the noise.

Ah, the noise of anti-semitism and racism…

I’m fully aware that the debating practices, if they can be called that, of people like Doutré is based upon the notion of the info dump; if I present a credible critique of his position he will be liable to then list factoid ((I use the term factoid to refer to something that is taken to be a fact when it is nothing of the kind.)) after factoid, drowning out my critique with excessive verbiage ((Which is how Creationists and Intelligent Design advocates work.)).

Which makes me think that attendance may not be the best option in the circumstances and, thus, you could, there is a credible case for not paying money to go; the cost and the style of debate would not be conducive to the aim of people like us ((If you are reader is is not a member of our special ‘academic other’ cabal, I apologise.)).

Yet turning up to the debate rather than simply protesting it seems to be a good in its own right. Doutré, Eisen, Gray; all these people claim that our silence and failure to debate them on the issues they think most critical shows that we are aware our positions are fatally flawed. Protesting will only confirm that view. Attending, even if we are seemingly defeated, may make the more duplicitous members a little more wary about presenting again.

Yet for organised resistance within the symposium to work you will need not just interested individuals but quality debaters; you will need rhetoricians who can play the game. Now, I consider that I am such a person, being both a critical thinker and a trained public speaker (due to years of speech therapy and speech and drama training) but I would, ideally, want a similarly qualified archaeologist, local historian, medical expert, et al. You would then want them to research their particular speaker, look at what they’ve argued in the past and what you would reasonably be expecting them to present at this symposium, et al.

It is, as they say in the trade ((And don’t they say it in the Trades… Thanks “I’m Sorry I’ll Read That Again.”)), a tall order.

Which is why I’m all for putting as many blocks in the way of the conference, of course. I think Map’s idea of approaching the city council about the use the hall is being put use to is superb and getting the anti-fluoride campaigners off-board, so to speak, could be a wonderful blow.

Maybe what this debate about the symposium shows, at least to me, is that we need an organisation of well-prepared intellectual types ready for the next ‘engagement.’ The ‘Rationalists and Humanists’ are definitely out; the Bill Cooke fiasco shows that they can’t be trusted to provide a spirited defense (and their lack of presence these days somewhat confirms that they are a dying organisation (which also seems to have become a libertarian article clearing house, in re the publication known as ‘The Open Society ((Karl Popper, I suspect, would not be pleased.))’). The ‘Skeptics…’ Well, whilst some of their membership seem on to it (I’m looking at you, Vicki Hyde) others are what I would describe as keen fans of science; they like science but aren’t particularly sure how it really works.

I.e. we should definitely make a secret society of our own. We can have a name, and badges and passwords and everything.

Which is where my thoughts end (temporally). I should probably get back to work; I have a table to make.

Doutré on Stage

The Uncensored Symposium 2009

I’m thinking we need to drive ourselves up a posse and go make ourselves known. It’s a pricey $40 if we book now but the chance to ask awkward questions could be unrivaled.

Doutré – The Uncensored Review

Martin Doutré’s ‘Uncensored’ article is long, rambling and very difficult to critique. Not because it is filled with interesting claims backed up with good arguments but because it meanders, it conflates and is generally obtuse, ill-thought out and badly written. The first page alone commits several fallacies and fails to make a case for an alternative pre-history of Aotearoa.

Yet, it was published.

Why?

I can’t really speculate as to why Jonathan Eisen, the editor of ‘Uncensored,’ felt that this piece was worth publishing; given what else I’ve read of ‘Uncensored’ I can’t really tell what method they have for deciding what is printable and what is not; it may well be that ‘Uncensored’ is purely a contrarian magazine, designed to publish the material that is normally considered unpublishable.

Yet that seems too clever a motivation; ‘Uncensored’ seems more like the gutter of the gutter press than some clever, post-modern attempt to air alternative views.

Anyway, that is really beside the point; given the largeness of Doutré’s article I cannot, for the love of all that I hold dear, deal with it in one post. So I’ll just do it piecemeal and we can all hope that, eventually, I get to the end of it. In a few months time the next one will be out; by then I might have written a book by way of commentary on the first.

Preamble over.

Doutré starts his article with the assertion that it is common knowledge amongst Maori that when they got here there was a large, pre-established caucasoid population who were known as the Patu-pairehe, the Turehu and the Pakapakeha. He then claims that these people taught the Maori arts and crafts and lived among them until hostilities broke out and the original inhabitants were enslaved. Traces of the Patu-pairehe were still evident in the early twentieth century, known as the Waka-blonds, red-haired, freckled faced ‘Maori.’

What is interesting about Doutré’s ‘historical’ account is how it so easily mixes fact with not just fiction but some weird elaborations.

Stories of the tangata whenua, the people of the land, are told in respect to the arriving of the first (major) migration; when the waka arrived there was a reported established population already living in Aotearoa. Now, we do not know if it was a large population but it is fairly clear that whoever they were, they were of th same people that we now know of as Maori; the oral traditions tell us that the newly arrived Maori could not only communicate with the tangata whenua but that some of them were family members. This suggests that the most plausible explanation for this tangata whenua is that they were the people who not only managed to navigate to Aotearoa but were also able to send home of its location and thus start the process that lead to the major wave of colonisation by their people.

Doutré, however, asserts that this tangata whenua population was caucasoid. He then refers to them by their ‘tribal’ names of the Patu-pairehe, the Turehu and the Pakapakeha. This makes it clear that he is conflating the tangata whenua story with the local myths of what Pakeha might call the fey folk, the fairy peoples of Maori mythology. The Patu-pairehe, the Turehu and the Pakapakeha are the names given to mythological human-like entities. They had pale skin, red hair and red eyes (something Doutré fails to mention). They share the same kind of characteristics as fey folk from other cultures ((I suspect that the appearance of the Patu-pairehe, the Turehu and the Pakapakeha can be explained away as by the rare occurrence of albinos in the Polynesian population. A recent Fortean Times article, dealing with the albino population in Nigeria, made a similar claim; this is something that, if I had more time., I’d like to look into.)). What is more important to note here is that these Patu-pairehe, Turehu and Pakapakeha are treated as being mythological by Maori; the notion that they represent very real hapu or iwi in Aotearoa is European. It is likely that the first Europeans in this country simply took talk of the fey folk as representing talk of real peoples, in that same respect that some people will take talk of the Irish fey folk as referring to some ancient demi-human population.

Anyway.

The claim that this population was then wiped out by the Maori is, at best, hearsay and, at worst, fabrication. ((Doutré may have some ‘documentary’ support, in that there are two south island iwi, the Waitaha and Ngati-Mamoe who have stories associated with them claiming a longer pre-history than the conventional wisdom tells us. However, these alternative histories are hotly disputed even by the iwi themselves.)) Doutré also claims the Patu-pairehe were known as the people of the mist but this seems to be conflating the mythological origin of the people of Tuhoe with the Patu-pairehe, et al. I imagine that Doutré isn’t very conversant with Maori history; his sources are mostly the writings of the early European ‘anthropologists’ and he spends a lot of time trying to justify using these early accounts on some weird naive empiricist notion that the early Pakeha were only interested in reporting the truth rather than being interested in, you know, providing justification for the occupying and colonising of Aotearoa.

But I digress into my race traitorousness.

Doutré claims that the proof of this old and established caucasoid population can be found in the reports of the so-called ‘waka-blonds,’ remembered by some (unnamed and unreferenced) ‘old timers.’ The waka-blonds are/were the red-haired, freckle faced ‘Maori’ ‘known’ to exist in the early twentieth century ((Now, given just how well the Pakeha and the Maori got on (carnally) it’s not surprising that there were a lot of red haired, freckled face Maori. I blame the Irish, personally. I have Irish ancestry and it shows (Irish hair). Certainly, this is a much more plausible rationale for these ‘waka blonds’ than them being the remnants of some much older caucasoid population.)). Reports at the turn of the twentieth century are not useful, however; by that time the Maori and Pakeha populations were intermingled; what you would need to make this claim even slightly suggest his hypothesis is reportage of ‘caucasoid’ Maori at first contact, and even then that won’t do as much work as Doutré would expect it to because Maori are not homogenous in their skin tone or morphology (I am beginning to sound like a Victorian racist; I apologise). Members of Kai Tahu, for example, are very pale in comparison to their more northern kin, but that doesn’t mean that they are caucasian in origin. It just means the environment in which they live (the cold, not so bright South Island) isn’t conducive to high melanin levels ((Doutré does refer to earlier accounts; reports of fair-haired, pale-skinned Polynesians and the like, but the accounts themselves are vague (pale in comparison to other Polynesians or pale like a Palagi?). However, anecdotes do not an argument make.)).

As it stands, Doutré’s account of Aotearoa’s pre-history is fatally flawed from the get go. Still, there is a lot more to say about his article, especially his claims about the Egyptian god Bes.