Figure 1 Tungus Shaman; or, the priest of the Devil. A drawing from Noord en Oost Tartarye [North and East Tartary] (1692) by Nicolaes Witsen. Courtesy of Tjeerd de Graaf, Nicolaas Witsen Project, Netherlands.
This black and white drawing shows an encampment outdoors with several tepee structures erected among tall evergreen trees. In the foreground a bare-chested human-like figure appears to be dancing. It is wearing a skirt, and its feet are bare. One leg is partially raised off the ground. In one hand it holds a drum, while the other hand, which is raised in the air, holds what appears to be a spoon or club. The figure has a head which features two prominent tall ears and furry feet resembling animal-like feet. Two dogs stand to the figure’s left, and one of them appears to be barking. In the background, in a clearing between the tepees, a group of men are talking.Who or what do you think is depicted in this picture?Would you think that shamans were humans or some mythical creatures based on this image?The presence of animal claws, furry skin and reindeer horns all suggest that shamans were not really humans. This depiction of an Evenki shaman was not produced with the Evenki audience in mind. It was made by Nikolaes Witsen for a European public, whom he likely hoped to impress with his travels in ‘mysterious’ lands previously not known to his audience. Coupled with the caption ‘the priest of the Devil’, this image represents an example of visual dehumanisation and the beginning of centuries-long demonisation of Indigenous religious practitioners categorised as shamans.Witsen never personally encountered Evenki šaman and never visited Evenki lands during his brief travel to Russia between 1664 and 1665. His reports were largely based on stories he had heard from people he met during his travels. Despite the questionable (indeed non-existent) evidence supporting Witsen’s account, his depiction of an Evenki šaman marked the start of the West’s ongoing fascination with shamans, who were believed to have abilities like being able to turn their bodies into animals, perform magic tricks and, most characteristically, leave their human bodies for spirit journeys, often with the use of drums. Stories about dark spirits tormenting shamans during their initiations, often defined as ‘shaman illness’, were of great interest to Europeans, who were keen to find a scientific explanation to such bodily experiences.Most of the ethnographers studying Siberia came from Christian backgrounds and used Christian vocabularies to describe local practitioners and knowledge-holders, some of whom they described as shamans. Shamans were depicted as half-human, half-animal beings and as servants of the Devil, playing a significant role in feeding the colonial fantasies of European explorers eager to discover curiosities and wonders in the ‘newly explored worlds.’ In his study of shamans, Swedish historian of religion Olle Sundström (2012, p. 356) argues that ‘depicting foreign people’s spiritual and political leaders as frauds, maniacs or devil-worshippers could be the only reason needed to motivate colonisation and the subjugation of the land and the peoples’. The Russian conquest of Siberia, began in the sixteenth century and was strongly driven by economic motives. In particular, there was a significant interest in Siberian fur, often referred to us ‘soft gold,’ which at that time functioned as an important global currency.Over time, the term ‘shaman’ was applied not only to Evenki šaman but also to various Indigenous practitioners in Siberia and then across colonised regions worldwide. Their knowledges, practices and worldviews were collectively categorised as ‘shamanism.’ What these people shared was not necessarily similar practices or skills, but a common experience of being defined through a colonial gaze – one that, at best, objectified and exoticised them, and at worst, demonised, criminalised, and dehumanised them.1.2 Indigenous mappingIn Figure 2, you see a map of Sábmi. You might not be able to place this region at first glance, but if you look closely, you may recognise the contours of Scandinavia. Sábmi, or Sápmi, is the land inhabited by the Sámi people, stretching today across Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Russia.
Figure 2 The Sábmi map of 1975 by Elle Hánsa/Keviselie/Hans Ragnar Mathisen
Hans Ragnar Mathisen, Sábmi with only Sámi place names, 1975. This map presents the Indigenous Sámi names for places claimed by Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Russia. Included in the exhibition Kiruna Forever at ArkDes; photo by Björn Strömfeldt.This map was created by Sámi artist Keviselie (also known by his Sámi name Elle Hánsa and Norwegian name Hans Ragnar Mathisen), celebrated for his cartographic artworks. Keviselie’s map is not divided by the national borders and is filled with Sámi place names. Sámi anthropologist Marit Myrvoll (2017, p. 107) notes how maps have been more effective tools of colonisation than weapons, commenting on the way many Sámi place names were lost by the turn of the twentieth century.Activity 3 Putting Sápmi on the mapAllow approximately 20 minutes to complete this activity.You will now listen to an excerpt from a podcast interview with Keviselie about the process of making the first map of Sápmi:
Audio 1: Putting Sápmi on the Map
KeviselieFirst, I thought about making as a lithograph.LiudmilaWhat is that? KeviselieLithograph is you draw and paint, and so on, on stones and then print it. But there is a limit in the number you can print, so I thought that would be too exclusive. I wanted to have it spread out.So I made then the map on the different originals, the plastic sheets that I have learned to know during my time as a drawing assistant, at an architect office here in Tulsa. So I knew that this was a very good material because it was opaque, and yet you could see through it, and you can also draw on it. And it resisted water and so on. So all my maps after then was made on this.Then I went to the Norwegian cultural department and asked for a grant. And then they were very surprised that to see a map with no borders. And not only Norway, but Sweden, Finland, and part of Russia. So I think they were a bit skeptical. But I got a grant anyway. And then I printed 5,000 at Gröndahl, for colour print shop in Oslo. So I was present at the printing to make some adjustments.Well, I have been told, and I believe it was a sensation in the Sápmi world. And also many non-Sápmi wanted to have this map. Yes. But I must also mention the year before, me and some others, Sápmi in Oslo and Bergen, we made the first Sápmi calendar. Ochta Sápmi joik 1904, 1975. But that we worked on it the year before, of course.LiudmilaWhich was also printed and distributed.KeviselieYes, yes. LiudmilaWow. So it started with a calendar and then,KeviselieThen the map.LiudmilaThen the map.KeviselieYes.LiudmilaBut making the map, it’s so visual. It takes only two seconds to look at it. And we are so used to seeing established Western maps, where we see the borders of nation states. And just not seeing recognisable nation state is such a big message. And when you were attending the assembly, how did you present this map? How, what was the reaction? KeviselieThe map was not yet printed.LiudmilaNo.KeviselieBecause I was there. I think we left on November 1. But I had a blue copy of it, which I showed. And I have coloured it with coloured pencil. So many people were very impressed and interested in it. And I, of course, hope that other Indigenous people will do the same. And also at home in Sápmi, I thought that, by the way, the term Sápmi became relevant only after that.LiudmilaMap. KeviselieYeah. So this introduced the word Sápmi. Not many people are aware of that. At that time, it was called Sápmi with a B, but this was in '75. But the new orthography changed it to P after '79. LiudmilaAhh. KeviselieYeah. So, LiudmilaAs a new foreigner coming to Norway and taking for granted so much, yes, Sápmi, this is the Sápmi area. But just several decades ago, it wasn't at all taken for granted. KeviselieNo, it was called Sápmi Yanno, which means Sápmi land. In my view, it is a kind of a normalisation. So I asked some experts, isn't there a name because Sápmi looks like some translated from Norwegian, which it was. Yes, that is the word Sápmi. So then I used that one because it has three meanings. Sápmi means the language, the people, and the homeland of the Sápmi. After listening to the excerpt, answer the following questions:1) What was the main reason Keviselie chose opaque plastic sheets to make the map of Sápmi instead of creating a lithograph? (Select one correct answer.)Because plastic sheets had lower production costs.Because Keviselie wanted the map to appear more modern.Because the plastic sheets were easy to copy, making the map widely accessible rather than exclusive.Because plastic sheets made the map waterproof.2) What makes Keviselie’s map meaningful for Sámi people? (Select three correct answers.)It challenges established maps made from a colonial non-Sámi gaze.The inclusion of Sámi place names reclaims a sense of connection and belonging to the land that colonial mapping erased.It is a primarily an artwork rather than a functional map.By removing national borders, the map challenges divisions imposed by nation-states.3) What are the three meanings of Sápmi according to Keviselie? (Choose three correct answers.)Sámi language(s)Sámi knowledge(s)Sámi people(s)Homeland of the Sámi people(s)2 Religion and colonialismWhen European powers colonised North America, known as Turtle Island to many Native American peoples, Christian churches played a major role by operating government-funded residential schools in what today is known as Canada and the United States of America. In Canada, 60 per cent of residential schools were run by the Catholic Church, 30 per cent by the Anglican Church and the remaining 10 per cent were run by other Christian denominations (Feir, 2016).Residential schools were a core part of colonialism, a system of domination that, in words of Tuhiwai Smith (1999, p. 31), ‘brought complete disorder to colonised peoples, disconnecting them from their histories, their landscapes, their languages, their social relations and their own ways of thinking, feeling and interacting with the world.’Regardless of the disruptive and dehumanising nature of colonialism, it was presented as something beneficial for the colonised peoples. The means by which this narrative was implemented was through the promises of salvation, modernisation and civilisation. For this to hold any kind of credibility, the colonised peoples had to be imagined as uncivilised and in need of such salvation, a perception effectively reinforced by the term ‘primitive’.Thousands of children passed through the schools, many of whom were forcibly removed from their families. Children in residential schools experienced widespread physical, mental, and sexual abuse. Many died, and those who survived continue to carry generational traumas. Residential schools actively operated until the 1970s, with the last ones closing in the United States in 1978 and in Canada as late as 1997. 2.1 ‘Save the man; kill the Indian’In the residential schools, children were not allowed to speak their mother tongues and were forced to adopt Christianity. Christianity was taught as the only true knowledge system, while Indigenous ways of knowing and living were suppressed, stigmatised, and often prohibited. Children’s names were replaced by European Christian names, and sometime even numbers (which in many cases were used more than the names). They were also required to wear uniforms and have their hair cut.In other words, the schools were explicitly designed to erase everything ‘Indian’, driven by the slogan ‘Save the Man, Kill the Indian’.
Figure 3 Photograph of Tom Torlino by John N. Choate, circa 1882. Before and after entering Carlisle Indian Industrial School.
Left: This image shows a black-and-white photograph of a young man. The man has a prominent nose and sharp cheekbones. He has a serious expression. He has long, dark hair, which is partially covered by a cloth wrapped around the top of his head and knotted at the front. The man has two large hoop earrings and is wearing a decorative necklace. The edges of the photo are faded, making it difficult to make out any further details.Right: The image shows a black-and-white photograph of the same young man, though he looks very different. His hair is cut short and parted to the side; it is slicked down against his head. The man is wearing a neat jacket with a crisp collar. He is looking into the distance.2.2 Colonising hairCutting hair was a key part of assimilation processes and was often one of the first experiences children encountered when entering school. Cutting hair signified more than a mere physical change. For many communities, hair carries deep meaning, embodying and reflecting their values, experiences and relationships. Watch the following video, where a survivor of a residential school, Fred, shares the impact that cutting hair had on him:
Video 1: Fred recalls hair cutting in residential school as an attack on identity
FredIn our cultural teaching, we understood that the only time you ever cut your hair was if your parent or grandparents passed away. And these stories come around from other friends of ours that did return home from residential schools. And that’s the thing they would share with them was, you have to cut your hair because your parents don’t want you anymore or your parents are actually dead now. So you have to cut your hair. So there’s a lot of these things. They use this mental tactic to try to break you down because, and that’s what a lot of it was, just trying to break you from your way of being. And we struggle and fought saying we didn’t want to get our hair cut. We couldn’t understand why they wanted to cut our hair. Activity 4 Religion and colonialismAllow approximately 10 minutes to complete this activity.In this part of the course, you learned about Tuhiwai Smith’s understanding of colonialism and residential schools for Indigenous children in North America. Complete the questions below based on what you have learned about the role of religious institutions in colonialism:1) Who ran the residential schools for Indigenous children in Canada?60 per cent of residential schools were run by30 per cent by theand the remaining 10 per cent were run by2) When did the last residential schools for Indigenous children close in the United States and Canada?1891 in US and 1917 in Canada1987 in US and 1990 in Canada1941 in US and 1945 in Canada1978 in US and 1997 in Canada3) What was the role of Christianity in residential schools for Schools to assimilate Indigenous children in the USA and Canada? (Select two correct answers.)Christianity was taught as the only true religion.Children were introduced to Christianity but could continue to follow their Indigenous practices and knowledges.Children’s names were changed to Christian names.Children could choose an additional Christian name while keeping their birthname in their mother tongue.2.3 Decolonising hairIn the following video, Theland Kicknosway explains the importance of hair to Indigenous people from the Potawatomi and Cree Nations. He is a member of Walpole Island, Bkejwanong Territory. Watch the video and then complete Activity 5.
Video 2: Theland Kicknosway: I wear these braids with pride
Activity 5 What is the meaning of your hair?Allow approximately 10 minutes to complete this activity.In the box below, reflect on the story of your hair, or perhaps hair loss.How much freedom do you have to express yourself through your hairstyle or facial hair?What values do you believe your approach to your hair represents?3 Religion and colonialitySo far you have been introduced to the notions of colonisation and colonialism. The next key term that you will explore is ‘coloniality’. The term coloniality was introduced by the Peruvian scholar Aníbal Quijano as a response to academic Eurocentrism in order to address the coloniality of academic knowledge. There are important distinctions between colonisation, colonialism and coloniality. While ‘colonisation’ broadly refers to the process of physically establishing colonies in ‘new’ territories, and ‘colonialism’ refers to entire systems of influence and exploitation, coloniality refers specifically to the control and management of knowledge by the ‘universals’ of Western modernity, Eurocentrism and global capitalism (Mignolo & Walsh, 2018). It might be difficult to follow this rather dense definition of coloniality and what ‘universals’ mean in this context, but do not be discouraged. You will now learn how religion can be considered a ‘universal’ within colonial thought. To explore this, you will be guided through an example of the Sámi practice of joik, which shows how Indigenous ways of knowing and being were positioned within a hierarchical order of religion.3.1 Reclaiming <i>joik</i>Tyler Tully (2022, p. 9), an American religious studies scholar, argues that what English-speaking people refer to as ‘religion’ has no equivalent term in many other cultures and languages. Tisa Wenger (2022, p. 3), an American historian of religion, also argues that the word ‘religion’ is a product of specific European histories and has never been a comfortable fit for Indigenous knowledges and traditions. You might be wondering, then, what the appropriate term is to describe the knowledges and practices of Indigenous peoples. The short answer to this is to use vernacular terms, meaning the terms that Indigenous people use themselves. You will now be introduced to the Sámi practice of joik and learn how it has been described using religious terminology and the impact of such translation.Joik is a Sámi oral tradition that resembles singing. It was forbidden for generations, especially in Christian churches, where it was viewed as the work of ‘the devil’ (Kraft, 2015, p. 235). Today, joik has emerged as a key symbol of Sámi resilience. Historically, it has been linked to noaidi, often categorised as a ‘shamanic chant’ (Anderson, 2005). However, joik is no longer prohibited or regarded exclusively as an expression of shamanism or even Sámi religion. Relocating joik away from ‘religion’ cuts the link to the categories that Sámi knowledges, worldviews and relations were historically classified into (such as ‘shamanism,’ ‘animism,’ ‘paganism,’ and even ‘devil-worship’). Presenting joik as it is, liberates it from being confined to hierarchical order of religions, which you will learn more about in the following section. This reclaiming of joik can be seen as an example of anticolonial or decolonial Indigenous resistance. Today, many Sámi, including those who are not noaidi, perform joik to express their Sámi identity, as well as to advocate for political, social, and environmental causes that are important to them.Activity 6 Reclaiming joikAllow approximately 45 minutes to complete this activity.You will now watch a talk by Mari Boine, a Sámi singer, musician, activist, and one of the most renowned performers of joik. As you watch, pay attention to how she presents herself and her homeland, Sápmi, and how she describes joik as a ‘way of remembering.’ Notice also how she discusses Sámi practices being labelled as ‘devil-worship,’ the effects this had on her and her community, and her journey of healing from colonial traumas.Part 1Start with watching first part of the video (00:00–06:30 mins) and then answer the following question.
Video 3: Mari Boine: Unshaming my Indigenous Heritage