Of Animism and Animorphs
by Giulianna LamannaSchool’s back in session, and every weekday at around two, the streets of Squirrel Hill are flooded with teenagers happily escaping their state-sponsored indoctrination at Taylor Allderdice High School. Autumn also brings my cousin Lilith’s birthday, so I bought her a picture book called Uno’s Garden that I read about on IshCon.
Uno’s Garden is basically primitivism for preschoolers. It begins with Uno discovering a beautiful jungle and deciding to live there. From his small family garden, a human community grows and grows—at the expense of all the non-human communities around them. The number of humans explode, the numbers of other animals decline, and one species—the ordinary Snortlepig—goes extinct. When the humans find themselves living in a lifeless, polluted wasteland of impersonal gray concrete, they decide they no longer want it. The city is abandoned, reduced numbers of people return to the forest, and slowly, the animals return. Awesome, right?
Uno’s Garden got me thinking about books I read as a child. Animistic undertones are fairly common in children’s literature. Usually they’re not as explicitly environmentalist as the themes in Uno’s Garden; more often they extend only to what most people would call anthropomorphism. Children tend to take for granted that animals and plants have names, personalities, and interests of their own. For instance, when Jason and I took my mother and sister to the Pittsburgh Zoo a few weeks ago, we overheard a little girl who couldn’t have been more than four say to one of the lions, “Hi! My name is Amy - what’s your name?”
Civilized adult reactions to this viewpoint range from laughing at it affectionately to laughing at it dismissively to seeing it as a mistake to be outgrown. Bruce Charlton sees it very differently, however:
We were all animistic children once, and for most of human evolutionary history would have grown into animistic adults. Animism is therefore spontaneous, the ‘natural’ way of thinking for humans, and it requires sustained, prolonged and pervasive socialization to ‘overwrite’ animistic thinking with the rationalistic objectivity typical of the modern world. It is learned objectivity that creates alienation - humans are no longer embedded in a world of social relations but become estranged, adrift in a world of indifferent things.
There’s a reason why children’s book publishers are inundated with picture books featuring talking animals. The books, TV shows, and movies that most strike a nerve with children are usually the ones that present the world as they naturally see it: animistically. In the Nickelodeon cartoon, The Wild Thornberrys, Eliza Thornberry has the power to communicate with animals—a power she obtained “after an encounter with an African shaman.” Tellingly, it is the child of the family that got this power from the shaman—Eliza’s surly older sister, her mother, and even her Steve Irwin-esque nature documentarian father all lack this ability, and have thoroughly closed themselves off to even the possibility of its existence. This echoes a novel I read in middle school called Switchers, the premise of which is that every child has the power to shapeshift, but loses that power at age fifteen. When Switchers was first released, a common criticism was that it was a rip-off of a popular book series that I also enjoyed, called Animorphs.
Animorphs does not share Switchers‘ premise that shapeshifting is a natural ability. Nor does it explicitly evoke shamanism like The Wild Thornberrys. Rather, its five young protagonists come about their powers via advanced alien technology. It’s not a human ability; it’s not even from the planet Earth. And it’s far from ancient. Nonetheless, some have already picked up on the connection between Animorphs and animism—primarily conservative Christians who for some reason think it’s a bad thing:
The most obvious [problem] has to do with the idea of humans morphing into animals. That sounds just like shamanism (or witchcraft) in the animist (primitive pagan) cultures around the world. For example, children who are introduced to Native American myths in elementary schools may read about medicine men who transform themselves into the shape of a wolf. Or they may read a popular picture book about a buffalo spirit that appears in the shape of a white buffalo or as a beautiful goddess-like woman. They call it shape-shifting.
Many New Age stores show paintings of such medicine men or shamans who seem to be part human and part wolf. Animorphs are simply contemporary stories that promote the occult idea of shape-shifting.
But the really fascinating part of Animorphs—the part that is most shamanic and the part that flew right over the Christian writer’s head—is the enemy they use their “morphing” power against.
There is a certain group of characters often encountered in shamanic trances—and these are universally encountered, from traditional shamans in South America to Western New Age wannabes—that, though they have many names, are usually called something along the lines of the Lords of the Outer Darkness. They come from outer space (or something similar) and are described as cold, reptillian, gray, slug-like, snake-like, alien, and evil. They tell shamanic journeyers that they created all life in the universe, and should therefore be worshipped. But shamans will tell you that they are lying. Michael Harner described his experience in Way of the Shaman.
I went to his [the shaman’s] hut, taking my notebook with me, and described my visions to him segment by segment. At first I told him only the highlights; thus, when I came to the dragon-like creatures, I skipped their arrival from space and only said, “There were these giant black animals, something like great bats, longer than the length of this house, who said they were the true masters of the world.” There is no word for dragon in Conibo, so “giant bat” was the closest I could come to describe what I had seen.
He stared up toward me with his sightless eyes, and said with a grin, “Oh, they’re always saying that. But they are only the Masters of the Outer Darkness.”
Wade Davis described a very similar experience.
Malign reptilian creatures crawled out of everything, danced around, and announced that they ruled reality and the world. Later, I told this vision to the old shaman. The Shaman said - “Oh yes. They are always saying that. Don’t take them so seriously. They are only the lords of the outer darkness. You have to move past them.”
Which brings us to the Yeerks. The Yeerks are the villains of the Animorphs universe. They are described as cold, gray, slug-like, alien, and evil. They come from a distant planet and, while helpless in their true form, have gained considerable power throughout the universe by seeping into other, larger creatures’ brains and controlling them. In physical description, they resemble the Lords of the Outer Darkness. In their actions, they resemble nothing so much as the civilized. Their names are a series of letters and numbers lacking in all personality or emotion, their society a strict and unyielding hierarchy. They go from planet to planet, taking over the inhabitants’ bodies and using them as cannon fodder for the next invasion as they suck the planet dry of as many resources as they can exploit. As you can probably predict, the next planet in line is Earth, and the harvesting is already well under way.
The aforementioned advanced morphing technology which the Animorphs use to fight the Yeerks off comes from an alien race called the Andalites, the only species to encounter the Yeerks and remain free. Curiously, the Andalites are described as looking like centaurs, mythological creatures whose half-horse, half-human bodies symbolize a union between humans and non-humans. Now empowered with what are essentially shamanic abilities given to them by centaurs, the Animorphs take on the strength and speed of Earth’s grandest creatures to preserve life against the threat of the Lords of the Outer Darkness. I mean, Yeerks.
I assume that the books weren’t intended with this interpretation in mind. Certainly, I wasn’t coming up with this stuff when I was twelve, and I’m guessing K.A. Applegate isn’t a primitivist. (Though now I’m starting to wonder why actual primitivist writers restrict themselves to non-fiction and the occasional picture book instead of trying their hands at middle-grade fantasy/sci-fi series.) While I may be reading way too much into children’s entertainment, it’s also true that many of these elements are present in adult entertainment as well. In any work of horror or sci-fi, the villains will almost always be civilized to the point of fascism. We instinctively understand that our voracious exploitation of all other life on the planet is bad, but the velvet glove is usually enough to distract us from this iron fist. However, in fiction, where we can create the most hateful creatures imaginable, villains are generally presented as the bare iron fist itself: civilization epitomized. The cold, reptillian enemy is also something of a sci-fi cliché, which raises the question of the chicken and the egg: did our subconscious minds summon up the Lords of the Outer Darkness because we’re instinctively fearful of reptiles? Or are our sci-fi reptillian villains a fading vestige of shamanic memory, just like the shapeshifters we invent to fight them?
Interesting. I’m a high school child development student–I’m exposed to numerous child classics in my classees. Watch a Disney animated classic, and you’ll see numerous people talking with animals, who talk back with one another.
I think this also proves my point that “animist” and “civilized” is not an absolute dichotomy–but a spectrum. There have been “civilized” shamans, like in Nepal and parts of Indonesia that are not neoshamans. Shamanism in a society does not equal sustainability, even if non-shamanism equals unsustainability.
And of course, most people do not define civilization negatively, so they see fascism as not an inherent part of civilization.
Comment by Taylor — 13 September 2006 @ 5:08 PM
Being blind to it doesn’t change the fact that the only unique features of civilization, are the things that most define authoritarian rule. As for “animist” and “civilized,” that’s a fairly obvious straw man you’ve pinned down, but I’m not sure about the relevance. Humans are naturally animist, so it pops up in all of our societies to one degree or another. What we’ve been discussing is not some facile notion that any degree of animism will automatically make you sustainable (whatever that might mean), but the notion, such as Stephen Harding made in the BBC in June:
In other words, that the first step in creating a sustainable society and surviving the catastrophe of our civilization, is cultivating our innate, animist sense of the living world.
Comment by Jason Godesky — 13 September 2006 @ 5:47 PM
Okay. I misunderstood you here. Thanks for the clarification.
Comment by Taylor — 13 September 2006 @ 6:32 PM
Oh my lord Jebus.
That was the most amazing article I’ve read in a long time.
Them lords of the outer darkness are scary assed mo fos.
Comment by MatthewJ — 13 September 2006 @ 6:50 PM
You, know, I’ve been wondering if there’s a connection between these lords of outer darkness and the gnostic archons. They certainly seem to have the same mentality.
Also, yes, all humanity has to maintain some level of animism, imho. And in the states, there are two large sources of animistic thinking that got jettisoned into our collective subconscious and Americans have been trying to digest them for awhile.
Pretty much everyone is at least quasi-aware of the Native American impact to the American psyche throughout the decades, but often overlooked are the African tribal animists brought over as slaves. I think their impact often undervalued, which is a shame. For example, when I listen to the blues (esp deep delta blues) I hear the pain of trying to reconcile a animist view to a new and divided world.
So, I think that there are a [b]lot[/b] of unrecognized and probably unintended sources of animism floating around in our stories and songs. That’s good because it gives us an easily accessible opening.
Comment by Anonymous — 13 September 2006 @ 7:12 PM
Just a comment, I wonder/interpet the LOD as a manifestation of the DNA spirals. Their ‘reptilian’ nature comes from the fact we associate with them and their needs on a very basic level — that of what we moderns term the ‘reptilian’ hindbrain. So, when we experience them, we translate them into that form from their actual ‘invisible’ state.
Best
Bill Maxwell
Comment by Bill Maxwell — 13 September 2006 @ 7:52 PM
So interesting! I think I may have encountered these slug-like creatures recently when I did a vision quest. I don’t remember them very well, but I have goose bumps upon reading this post. Thanks.
Comment by casemeau — 13 September 2006 @ 10:28 PM
Hey Bill,
Jason had the idea of DNA being the root of the lords on thefifthworld. Though it makes a certain kind of elegent sense, I am reluctant to sign on to it.
If we are talking about a direct causal relationship here, where the shape of the molecule is subconsciously known by the brain and interpreted as visions, then we are missing the vital middle step: how on earth, using only physical mechanics, the brain could “visualize” a sub-cellular molecule.
I just don’t see the physical mechanism for this. Not that I don’t believe its possible - indeed, I think it quite possible that the brain somehow knows about DNA. But I don’t think that this can be explained using present scientific ways of looking.
This idea seems like an uncomfortable blending of magic and science to me. The science (the shape of the DNA) is said to be “real”, and the magic (the brain seeing the DNA) is just used to justify the science. Don’t like it.
I am much more inclined to say that the lords of the outer darkness created DNA in their image, or that they both come from some sort of primal double-helix-life-archetype.
Anyway, likely just my resistance to genetic determinisim, and attempts at scientific demystification.
Comment by MatthewJ — 14 September 2006 @ 2:02 AM
Hey Matt!
My first instinct would be look for a fractal pattern that matches DNA. I seem to recall there is one that’s easy to find but I might be recalling overlapping patterns of dimensions from TOE theory (maybe…)
Comment by Bill Maxwell — 14 September 2006 @ 3:05 AM
David Icke is not my cuppa-tay but about a year ago I listened to one of his presentations in the background as I worked on one of my websites. Icke is into the whole belief system about the ruling elites being descendents of a reptillian race of invaders from another galaxy.
As stated, I’m not into this stuff, …but then when I look at the Bush family, I have to wonder if he could be right.
Scroll to bottom here and click on the largest Icke file, to watch the video I am referring to.
http://1984videos.com
Comment by Peter — 14 September 2006 @ 12:50 PM
I can’t see or hear Icke’s name without laughing, but I suppose it does show the enduring effect of the reptilian imagery….
Comment by Jason Godesky — 14 September 2006 @ 1:04 PM
Maybe it’s just me, but the double helix models I’ve seen don’t look at all reptilian. I always assumed that the connection of the reptilian figures with DNA was more of a primeval imagery than a physical imagery. Also, I first came across the connection of the reptilian figures and DNA in Harner’s work.
Comment by ChandraShakti — 14 September 2006 @ 10:05 PM
We are all at our root, reptillian. The brian stem, the earliest part of or evolved brain being that, shared by all humans the images created by the brain in trance state are likely to be in a common range once you have escaped all the higher mammalian and human lobe images. All parts of our evolution inform and live with us, and all parts will see themselves as the complete picture. The ‘frontal’ pictures of the human ‘ego’ structure are in constant danger of being overwhelmed by the deeper, stronger images and identities of millions of years of evolution, that’s why we have such a powerful capacity for denial, a useful tool for the ‘progressive’ instincts of ego but a blinding fallacy when the ego believes it is the only locus of identity.
Comment by Adrian — 15 September 2006 @ 5:15 AM
A brian stem is of course similar to a brain stem, but more of a party animal
Comment by Adrian — 15 September 2006 @ 5:17 AM
Have you noticed that in most books about magic, most people cannot see magic/ magical creatures? A unicorn could be walking down a crowded street next to the main character and he or she is the only one who notices anything unusual. It is then explained that most people only see what they expect to see. I thought of that when I read the left brain - right brain article that Ran Prieur posted the other day.
http://seedsofgrowth.com/have-you-tried-turning-it-upside-down
Comment by Vicky — 15 September 2006 @ 12:08 PM
And I thought it was just me, losing my mind. Truly gnarly post. Well done.
Vicky - My take is that they’re actively hiding from us, and that they’re hiding because they’re scared.
Yes, the scary ones are black.
Creeped out now. Gotta go…
Comment by speedbird — 20 September 2006 @ 11:52 AM