Cultural Survival and the Contribution of Indigenous Cultures to Humanity

By Anthony Ippolito

Soon after arriving for the first time amidst the towering, enduring behemoths, the famed tabletop tepui mountains, my new Pemón friends were teaching me the significance of a fruit of a local tree.  The juice of the fruit was clear but was the basis for tattoos used to adorn their bodies during various rituals.  The beauty and significance of their invisible design would only be revealed with a night’s passing.  As they painted various parts of my body they were giddy but appreciative that I was an enthusiastic participant.  I was mildly confused because their transcriptions were not visible and the approximate 12 hours had yet to pass.  Their work came into its full fruition the next morning as I awoke and noticed the simple yet moving patterns that covered my body: symbols of protection, homage, and unity of the burgeoning and sustaining life around them.  Admittedly, I, nor any outsider, could grasp the meanings, depth, and rich intricacies of their culture.  Nonetheless, I felt warmly welcomed into their lives and honored by their act of sharing this ritual, an invitation that I graciously and humbly accepted.

I went to teach on that trip but I could not help and was willing to learn from the Pemón.  The Pemón perspective of their wild surroundings is refreshing, the respect and awareness of the life around them is inspiring, their knowledge of how to use the forests is voluminous, their (lack of) governmental organization is respectable, their interactions with their natural surroundings are compassionate and thoughtful, and their acceptance of foreigners is charitable and genuine.  The Pemón perspective is unique to them, but indigenous cultures across the globe each have unique perspectives of their environs, their people, and the people outside of their communities.  However, like a falling raindrop is lost forever into the homogenous ocean, the theme that unites most indigenous cultures is that they are being engulfed into the sea of modern industrialized culture and the advance of globalization.  Indigenous cultures are in danger of being lost forever, no documentation of their heritage, their wealth of knowledge, and, frequently, like a raindrop into an ocean, no longer with a cultural identity and unity.

The industrialized knee jerk reaction to preserving indigenous cultures is to keep them in a hypothetical pristine state, as if to maintain a living anthropological museum.  However, the wave of globalization and modernization has already drenched most indigenous cultures, and to deny these people access to modern technology or methods that can improve their lives, would be criminal.   At some point in the near future, inevitably, modern ways and cultures will reach even the most isolated or insular indigenous people.   This is a certainty.  One challenge is to make sure these people do not drown in the wave and lose themselves as the outside world arrives.  A second challenge is to recognize that the current flows both ways; indigenous cultures are not just receptacles of outside information but are sources of information as well.  However, most indigenous cultures do not yet possess the modern vehicles of rapid dissemination of their knowledge such as computers or the internet, and frequently, the “intrinsic value” of their cultures (Musschenga 1998) is not fully appreciated by the outside world. 

         UNESCO made preserving cultural identity a priority in October of 2003 with their adoption of the Convention for the Safe Guarding of Intangible Cultural Heritage (Keitumetse 2006).  The term safeguarding is defined as 'measures aimed at ensuring the viability of the intangible cultural heritage, including the identification, documentation, research, preservation, protection, promotion, enhancement, transmission, particularly through formal and non formal education, as well as the revitalization of the various aspects of such heritage" (Article 2.3, unesco.org).   Although some of the stated goals are to catalog, preserve, and protect, the definition also thoughtfully includes the hope of maintenance of the culture within the people themselves by teaching or reeducating about the nuances and meaning of various cultural aspects.  The people from these cultures, living, practicing, understanding, and transmitting their own culture, will be the surest and most secure safeguard.  This is an important step towards preserving the information but the information also needs to be available and flow outside of these cultures.

            The importance of indigenous knowledge has been recognized and is currently being integrated in many useful and creative ways.  Indigenous cultures can contribute significantly to contemporary issues, such as, conservation, sustainability, resource management and utilization, global education, partnerships with research scientists, and the development of tourism (Davis and Wali 1994, Mabulla 2000).  Orlove and Brush (1996) argue that protected areas and genetic resources, particularly from plants, are dependent on indigenous groups and links are naturally forged with these groups, regional and national agencies, and international organizations (Schwartzman and Zimmerman 2005, Brosius 1997).

I work with the Pemón in an attempt to develop their tourism potential.  The Pemón have been diligent to keep out the logging and the mining companies and preserve most of their native lands.  This is not an easy task knowing that large sums of money could be made if they acquiesced to powerful industry.  But because they stand firm, they need to build a viable industry based on the preservation of their natural resources.  Developing tourism in the more out lying areas seems to have enormous potential to create a revenue stream that maintains their lands.

Ultimately, the reasons for preserving indigenous culture and knowledge can be argued academically from many points of view.  More philosophically, why do we care when most of humanity will never meet, contact, or perhaps, never be directly affected by these cultures?  Why do most of us agree with saving elephants, giant pandas, or even obscure plants in the wild when we will never see them outside of zoos and conservatories?  From my perspective, humanity has become more than an evolutionary, integrated part of ecology.  We have put ourselves in a position of stewardship, not only for other species, but for other humans in which we share the planet as well.  The preservation of indigenous cultures offer more than information and knowledge, but a context in which we understand ourselves, the accomplishments, and diversity of humanity.

Works cited in this blog:

Brosius, J.P. 1997.  Endangered forests, endangered people: Environmentalist representations of indigenous knowledge. Human Ecology: 25 (1), pp. 47-69.

Davis, S.H. and A. Wali. 1994.  Indigenous land tenure and tropical forest management in Latin America.  Ambio: 23 (8), pp. 485-490.

Keitumetse, S. 2006. UNESCO 2003 convention on intangible heritage: Practical implications for heritage management approaches in Africa. South African Archaeological Bulletin: 61 (184), pp. 166-171.

Mabulla, A.Z.P. 2000. Strategy for cultural heritage management: A case study. The African Archaeological Review: 17 (4), pp. 211-233.

Musschenga, A.W. 1998. Intrinsic value as a reason for the preservation of minority cultures.  Ethical Theory and Moral Practice: 1 (2) 201-225.

Orlove, B.S. and S. B. Brush. 1996. Anthropology and the conservation of biodiversity.  Annual Review of Anthropology:  25, pp. 329-352.

Schwartzman, S. and B. Zimmerman. 2005.  Conservation alliances with indigenous peoples of the Amazon. Conservation Biology: 19 (3), pp. 721-727.

Cultural Survival and Humanity by Anthony Ippolito

Soon after arriving for the first time amidst the towering, enduring behemoths, the famed tabletop tepui mountains, my new Pemón friends were teaching me the significance of a fruit of a local tree.  The juice of the fruit was clear but was the basis for tattoos used to adorn their bodies during various rituals.  The beauty and significance of their invisible design would only be revealed with a night’s passing.  As they painted various parts of my body they were giddy but appreciative that I was an enthusiastic participant.  I was mildly confused because their transcriptions were not visible and the approximate 12 hours had yet to pass.  Their work came into its full fruition the next morning as I awoke and noticed the simple yet moving patterns that covered my body: symbols of protection, homage, and unity of the burgeoning and sustaining life around them.  Admittedly, I, nor any outsider, could grasp the meanings, depth, and rich intricacies of their culture.  Nonetheless, I felt warmly welcomed into their lives and honored by their act of sharing this ritual, an invitation that I graciously and humbly accepted.

I went to teach on that trip but I could not help and was willing to learn from the Pemón.  The Pemón perspective of their wild surroundings is refreshing, the respect and awareness of the life around them is inspiring, their knowledge of how to use the forests is voluminous, their (lack of) governmental organization is respectable, their interactions with their natural surroundings are compassionate and thoughtful, and their acceptance of foreigners is charitable and genuine.  The Pemón perspective is unique to them, but indigenous cultures across the globe each have unique perspectives of their environs, their people, and the people outside of their communities.  However, like a falling raindrop is lost forever into the homogenous ocean, the theme that unites most indigenous cultures is that they are being engulfed into the sea of modern industrialized culture and the advance of globalization.  Indigenous cultures are in danger of being lost forever, no documentation of their heritage, their wealth of knowledge, and, frequently, like a raindrop into an ocean, no longer with a cultural identity and unity.

The industrialized knee jerk reaction to preserving indigenous cultures is to keep them in a hypothetical pristine state, as if to maintain a living anthropological museum.  However, the wave of globalization and modernization has already drenched most indigenous cultures, and to deny these people access to modern technology or methods that can improve their lives, would be criminal.   At some point in the near future, inevitably, modern ways and cultures will reach even the most isolated or insular indigenous people.   This is a certainty.  One challenge is to make sure these people do not drown in the wave and lose themselves as the outside world arrives.  A second challenge is to recognize that the current flows both ways; indigenous cultures are not just receptacles of outside information but are sources of information as well.  However, most indigenous cultures do not yet possess the modern vehicles of rapid dissemination of their knowledge such as computers or the internet, and frequently, the “intrinsic value” of their cultures (Musschenga 1998) is not fully appreciated by the outside world. 

         UNESCO made preserving cultural identity a priority in October of 2003 with their adoption of the Convention for the Safe Guarding of Intangible Cultural Heritage (Keitumetse 2006).  The term safeguarding is defined as 'measures aimed at ensuring the viability of the intangible cultural heritage, including the identification, documentation, research, preservation, protection, promotion, enhancement, transmission, particularly through formal and non formal education, as well as the revitalization of the various aspects of such heritage" (Article 2.3, unesco.org).   Although some of the stated goals are to catalog, preserve, and protect, the definition also thoughtfully includes the hope of maintenance of the culture within the people themselves by teaching or reeducating about the nuances and meaning of various cultural aspects.  The people from these cultures, living, practicing, understanding, and transmitting their own culture, will be the surest and most secure safeguard.  This is an important step towards preserving the information but the information also needs to be available and flow outside of these cultures.

            The importance of indigenous knowledge has been recognized and is currently being integrated in many useful and creative ways.  Indigenous cultures can contribute significantly to contemporary issues, such as, conservation, sustainability, resource management and utilization, global education, partnerships with research scientists, and the development of tourism (Davis and Wali 1994, Mabulla 2000).  Orlove and Brush (1996) argue that protected areas and genetic resources, particularly from plants, are dependent on indigenous groups and links are naturally forged with these groups, regional and national agencies, and international organizations (Schwartzman and Zimmerman 2005, Brosius 1997).

I work with the Pemón in an attempt to develop their tourism potential.  The Pemón have been diligent to keep out the logging and the mining companies and preserve most of their native lands.  This is not an easy task knowing that large sums of money could be made if they acquiesced to powerful industry.  But because they stand firm, they need to build a viable industry based on the preservation of their natural resources.  Developing tourism in the more out lying areas seems to have enormous potential to create a revenue stream that maintains their lands.

Ultimately, the reasons for preserving indigenous culture and knowledge can be argued academically from many points of view.  More philosophically, why do we care when most of humanity will never meet, contact, or perhaps, never be directly affected by these cultures?  Why do most of us agree with saving elephants, giant pandas, or even obscure plants in the wild when we will never see them outside of zoos and conservatories?  From my perspective, humanity has become more than an evolutionary, integrated part of ecology.  We have put ourselves in a position of stewardship, not only for other species, but for other humans in which we share the planet as well.  The preservation of indigenous cultures offer more than information and knowledge, but a context in which we understand ourselves, the accomplishments, and diversity of humanity.

Works cited in this blog:

Brosius, J.P. 1997.  Endangered forests, endangered people: Environmentalist representations of indigenous knowledge. Human Ecology: 25 (1), pp. 47-69.

Davis, S.H. and A. Wali. 1994.  Indigenous land tenure and tropical forest management in Latin America.  Ambio: 23 (8), pp. 485-490.

Keitumetse, S. 2006. UNESCO 2003 convention on intangible heritage: Practical implications for heritage management approaches in Africa. South African Archaeological Bulletin: 61 (184), pp. 166-171.

Mabulla, A.Z.P. 2000. Strategy for cultural heritage management: A case study. The African Archaeological Review: 17 (4), pp. 211-233.

Musschenga, A.W. 1998. Intrinsic value as a reason for the preservation of minority cultures.  Ethical Theory and Moral Practice: 1 (2) 201-225.

Orlove, B.S. and S. B. Brush. 1996. Anthropology and the conservation of biodiversity.  Annual Review of Anthropology:  25, pp. 329-352.

Schwartzman, S. and B. Zimmerman. 2005.  Conservation alliances with indigenous peoples of the Amazon. Conservation Biology: 19 (3), pp. 721-727.

Oh the places that you’ll go, and Canaima could be one of them…by Anthony Ippolito

This is the initial installment of my contribution to the blog of the non-profit cultural preservation organization, Angel Conservation.  Admittedly, I haven’t read many blogs and am unsure if a certain protocol is followed. Having said that, my contributions will cover the spectrum from educational to reflections to off of the cuff story of my experiences with Angel Conservation and particularly the interactions with the indigenous Kamaracotos, the Pemón, and their native lands inside of Canaima National Park in Bolivar State, in Southeastern Venezuela.

As an ecologist, I have been fortunate to fulfill my dream to travel and work in many exotic, mostly remote, intriguing, and inspiring locations around the planet.  My life, like every traveler, has been enriched by my wanderings, my wonderings, people whom I’ve met along the way, worked with, and whom I’ve have shared the adventure.  Many travelers are compelled to share their personal anecdotes to illustrate how their lives have been enhanced or simply to tell the tale of their experiences.  Despite having my voluminous share of colorful rides in dusty, dented, tin-can buses, eating things that had more than 4 or no legs at all, being the host of ecto-parasite party crashers on every microhabitat of my body, or eyeballing, at nose blank range, various caliber of arms, hoping the wielder doesn’t have an itchy trigger finger that needed scratching, I’ve only mildly had ideas of ever making a record of such events, as prime as they seem to be for such an endeavor. Although some experiences certainly have had a dangerous or potentially stomach turning element, perhaps naively, like movie make-believe where no one really gets hurt and everyone gets up and goes home when the day is done, I’ve never thought my life was ever seriously in danger and I have appreciated each moment in its own context.  I haven’t reached some age of enlightenment that is coercing me to teach the world what I’ve seen or how I’ve been affected.  However, I have had many in depth, inspiring, at times, surreal, moments, and from a mild coaxing sense of obligation and a sense of pure amusement, I’ve decided to start writing them in “blog” form.

I’m often asked which country or place I like the best and why.  I don’t find the question annoying but misguided and comparable to asking a parent which one of their children that they like the best.  I would guess that most parents would likely shirk the question as they realize that each one of their children has their own story and nuances.  Although children can be compared, they can hardly be ranked because each possesses a unique combination of attributes that individually taken, would not reflect the whole of the person.  Frankly for me, a comparison would be a distraction from the experience.  And so is my approach to the question of my favorite place in the world, I appreciate each place where I have traveled and relish each for the natural wonders, cultural anomalies, and the essence of the whole.   Although in the future I may get to other parts of the world, this blog concerns my continuing work and travels to the remote, unique, Kamarata Valley within Canaima National Park in Southeastern Venezuela, which provide an enriching set of experiences that are certainly worthy of their due in writing, and here they begin.

The region is an unparalleled wonderland from any perspective that one may take.  Anthropologists have been enthralled with the indigenous “society without government” that is embedded between the ominous but energizing table topped tepui-mountains that fascinate geologists and poets alike.  The Kamaracoto people of the region, the 30,000 or so people that call themselves the Pemón, manage a modest existence scattered throughout the valley within the boundaries of the national park in or near 30 villages.  They mostly keep conocos, or small cassava farms, fish, and still derive a large part of their nutrition from harvesting the ecosystems where they live.  Villages are a relatively recent missionary introduction to their culture as the Pemón historically lived in small familial congregations.  Much like most of the remaining indigenous people in the world, Pemón tradition and lore is interwoven with their surroundings, the plants, animals, and, of course, the tepuis and permeates their culture.

The tepuis are some of the grandest and oldest geological formations on the planet and were first brought to the wider public attention in 1912 by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s novel, The Lost World.  Frequently, clouds bathe and burst showers a top of the tepuis.  Like giant rain barrels that endlessly overflow and erupt from every split and notch in the mountainsides, thousands of waterfalls and cascades stripe and carve through the lush, verdant forests.  The tallest of these waterfalls bears the name of bush pilot, Jimmie Angel, who in 1933 flew into Churún Canyon and past a waterfall that he claimed was a mile high.  In 1949, photojournalist Ruth Robertson’s persistence earned her the honor of being the first person to arrive at the base of Angel Falls, officially measuring the falls at 3212 feet (979 meters).  Not quite the mile that Angel originally claimed, but nonetheless, the tallest waterfall in the world that Angel proudly called the 8^th natural wonder of the world.  A waterfall that is 2 ½ times the height of the Empire State Building is no less than breathtaking and a testament to the height and magnitude of the tepuis.

Each tepui rises and reaches into the sky and is a literal island that is separated from each other by oceans of air and clouds.  The tepui “islands” are a patchwork of habitats with diverse sets of plants that demanded over 20 volumes to systemically categorize and describe all of the botanical richness of the region.  From the “carnivorous” sundews to the explosion of orchid species atop the tepuis to the Moriche “tree of life” palms to giant arum leaves that stand upright formidably in the understory of the gallery rain forest that seem to drip down the sides of the mountains, botanists could spend lifetimes here pouring through the greenery without exhausting the natural wealth that sustains the animals and people of the region.

So this is the stage in which my blogs will be set, a wonderfully friendly and humble culture, awe-inspiring geological wonders, lush deep forests abounding with all the elements and animals of the tropics.  Such a place is a wonderland indeed and certainly a tourist destination.  I have had the privilege to know this place and to work there. My hope is that through these blogs, those that read them may get a similar, vicarious emotional response, imaginative stir, and intellectual curiosity that keeps me going back.  Wakuperukeruman! (Thanks!)