What caused the tsunami that killed over 2,000 villagers near Aitape on the north coast of Papua New Guinea a fortnight ago?
Scientists would explain that the earth's crust is broken up into a number of rigid plates which float on the molten rock underneath. These move slowly in different directions, and as they collide they can cause mountains to rise or force one plate under the other. The three massive tidal waves that devastated the Aitape region were triggered by a sudden vertical drop of two metres along a forty kilometre crack in the ocean floor.
But I doubt this explanation would satisfy villagers who suffered the catastrophe, or who lost their relatives. It does not answer a fundamental question that confronts people who have experienced serious trauma or misfortune -- "Why me?"
Even people who accept that an undersea earthquake generated the waves will wonder why their villages were destroyed, rather than other villages along the coast, or why their spouses or children drowned while others who were near them somehow survived.
As the Aitape region is strongly Christian, it is hardly surprising that many villagers think the answers are to be found in God's will. Some survivors have told journalists they were saved by their prayers, while others say it must have been part of God's plan that they should lose their families.
From their comments, it is also clear that many villagers feel the tidal waves were a punishment from God. Obviously concerned about the effects of such self-laceration, the officiating priest at last weekend's memorial service told people not to blame themselves for the tragedy. Their burdens are heavy enough, without having the additional weight of believing that their peccadilloes could have such appalling consequences.
Those who are hostile to missionary activity amongst indigenous peoples are usually outraged by the thought that Christianity might cause individuals to accept such a wildly inappropriate sense of guilt. They think customary rituals and beliefs would provide a much better basis for restoring psychological and social well-being, reasoning that as disasters like the Aitape tsunami would have occurred often in the past, traditional religions would have developed appropriate means for dealing with them.
A typical example of this kind of thinking came from an American former resident of Papua New Guinea who wrote to the Post-Courier newspaper in Port Moresby a few days ago to express her condolences to the "supporters of the traditional beliefs and ways". She urged them to look to their "rich ancient beliefs as the secret to spiritual recovery" from the disaster.
I hold no special brief for the missionaries who worked in the Pacific and elsewhere, although I respect their dedication and self-sacrifice. Nevertheless, I think that Westerners who encourage indigenous peoples to return to their "ancient beliefs" have succumbed to a destructive sentimentalism.
It is one which is blind to the enormous social and cultural achievements of the West, and to the strengths of the world views on which these have been based. Not the least of these achievements is the ability to rapidly mobilise the massive resources needed to assist victims of the tsunami, and the sense of human obligation which ensured that these resources would be provided without hesitation.
To the extent that the survivors from Malol, Sissano and the other devastated villages may turn to "traditional beliefs and ways" in response to the calamity, their recovery, "spiritual" or otherwise, is more likely to be impeded than aided. Unfortunately, there are signs that at least a few people think the tidal waves were caused by angry spirits or evil magicians. A couple of articles published in Papua New Guinea's press last week, including one written by a man from Malol village itself, suggest that some survivors are indeed resorting to "ancient beliefs" to explain what happened.
The Melanesian islands of New Guinea, the Solomons and Vanuatu are notable for the extreme diversity of their traditional cultures. Nevertheless, in the great majority of Melanesian societies people believed that serious misfortunes were never accidental, but the result either of spirits acting in the interests of their adversaries, or of other individuals performing harmful magic directed against them.
Even now, many illnesses and deaths are seen as the result of sorcery or witchcraft, which may be triggered by sheer malevolence, or else by the most trivial slights or offences. It is not just unsophisticated villagers who hold these views. When teaching at the University of Papua New Guinea many years ago, I found that educated people may also be fearful of supernatural attack.
In some cases, the supernatural powers thought to be available to humans are immense. Anthropologists have reported societies where certain people are believed to be capable of destroying the earth itself, and where the threat of such annihilation is readily used to force others to accede to their wishes. This is supernatural terrorism with a vengeance.
In the Vanuatu island where I carried out anthropological research during the 1970s, tropical cyclones were always seen as being the work of people who were attempting to harm their enemies or destroy their property. Every major storm would bring a rash of accusations and counter-accusations as those who had suffered injury or damage sought to identify who amongst their opponents were the most likely culprits.
Certainly, the customary beliefs of Melanesians address the "why me?" question. But the kinds of answers they provide usually have very harmful social consequences, feeding cycles of mutual fear and suspicion, and making social co-operation beyond the narrow kin group always precarious. Some anthropologists speak of a "paranoid ethos" that characterised traditional Melanesian cultures, and which is still found in areas of contemporary life.
Those who condemn missionaries for undermining indigenous beliefs and practices may find it difficult to accept, but believing natural disasters such as the Aitape tsunami are part of God's inexplicable plan is far less socially destructive than the traditional alternative of believing they are the work of fellow humans with evil in their hearts.
What caused the tsunami that killed over 2,000 villagers near Aitape on the north coast of Papua New Guinea a fortnight ago?
Scientists would explain that the earth's crust is broken up into a number of rigid plates which float on the molten rock underneath. These move slowly in different directions, and as they collide they can cause mountains to rise or force one plate under the other. The three massive tidal waves that devastated the Aitape region were triggered by a sudden vertical drop of two metres along a forty kilometre crack in the ocean floor.
But I doubt this explanation would satisfy villagers who suffered the catastrophe, or who lost their relatives. It does not answer a fundamental question that confronts people who have experienced serious trauma or misfortune -- "Why me?"
Even people who accept that an undersea earthquake generated the waves will wonder why their villages were destroyed, rather than other villages along the coast, or why their spouses or children drowned while others who were near them somehow survived.
As the Aitape region is strongly Christian, it is hardly surprising that many villagers think the answers are to be found in God's will. Some survivors have told journalists they were saved by their prayers, while others say it must have been part of God's plan that they should lose their families.
From their comments, it is also clear that many villagers feel the tidal waves were a punishment from God. Obviously concerned about the effects of such self-laceration, the officiating priest at last weekend's memorial service told people not to blame themselves for the tragedy. Their burdens are heavy enough, without having the additional weight of believing that their peccadilloes could have such appalling consequences.
Those who are hostile to missionary activity amongst indigenous peoples are usually outraged by the thought that Christianity might cause individuals to accept such a wildly inappropriate sense of guilt. They think customary rituals and beliefs would provide a much better basis for restoring psychological and social well-being, reasoning that as disasters like the Aitape tsunami would have occurred often in the past, traditional religions would have developed appropriate means for dealing with them.
A typical example of this kind of thinking came from an American former resident of Papua New Guinea who wrote to the Post-Courier newspaper in Port Moresby a few days ago to express her condolences to the "supporters of the traditional beliefs and ways". She urged them to look to their "rich ancient beliefs as the secret to spiritual recovery" from the disaster.
I hold no special brief for the missionaries who worked in the Pacific and elsewhere, although I respect their dedication and self-sacrifice. Nevertheless, I think that Westerners who encourage indigenous peoples to return to their "ancient beliefs" have succumbed to a destructive sentimentalism.
It is one which is blind to the enormous social and cultural achievements of the West, and to the strengths of the world views on which these have been based. Not the least of these achievements is the ability to rapidly mobilise the massive resources needed to assist victims of the tsunami, and the sense of human obligation which ensured that these resources would be provided without hesitation.
To the extent that the survivors from Malol, Sissano and the other devastated villages may turn to "traditional beliefs and ways" in response to the calamity, their recovery, "spiritual" or otherwise, is more likely to be impeded than aided. Unfortunately, there are signs that at least a few people think the tidal waves were caused by angry spirits or evil magicians. A couple of articles published in Papua New Guinea's press last week, including one written by a man from Malol village itself, suggest that some survivors are indeed resorting to "ancient beliefs" to explain what happened.
The Melanesian islands of New Guinea, the Solomons and Vanuatu are notable for the extreme diversity of their traditional cultures. Nevertheless, in the great majority of Melanesian societies people believed that serious misfortunes were never accidental, but the result either of spirits acting in the interests of their adversaries, or of other individuals performing harmful magic directed against them.
Even now, many illnesses and deaths are seen as the result of sorcery or witchcraft, which may be triggered by sheer malevolence, or else by the most trivial slights or offences. It is not just unsophisticated villagers who hold these views. When teaching at the University of Papua New Guinea many years ago, I found that educated people may also be fearful of supernatural attack.
In some cases, the supernatural powers thought to be available to humans are immense. Anthropologists have reported societies where certain people are believed to be capable of destroying the earth itself, and where the threat of such annihilation is readily used to force others to accede to their wishes. This is supernatural terrorism with a vengeance.
In the Vanuatu island where I carried out anthropological research during the 1970s, tropical cyclones were always seen as being the work of people who were attempting to harm their enemies or destroy their property. Every major storm would bring a rash of accusations and counter-accusations as those who had suffered injury or damage sought to identify who amongst their opponents were the most likely culprits.
Certainly, the customary beliefs of Melanesians address the "why me?" question. But the kinds of answers they provide usually have very harmful social consequences, feeding cycles of mutual fear and suspicion, and making social co-operation beyond the narrow kin group always precarious. Some anthropologists speak of a "paranoid ethos" that characterised traditional Melanesian cultures, and which is still found in areas of contemporary life.
Those who condemn missionaries for undermining indigenous beliefs and practices may find it difficult to accept, but believing natural disasters such as the Aitape tsunami are part of God's inexplicable plan is far less socially destructive than the traditional alternative of believing they are the work of fellow humans with evil in their hearts.
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