Science sealed their fate

Science sealed their fate

Photo by Taoh Nichols on Unsplash

Originally published 16 March 1998

EXUMA, Bahamas — Two cul­tur­al threads from the ancient world came togeth­er dur­ing the Euro­pean Renais­sance: the Greek genius for dis­in­ter­est­ed curios­i­ty about the nat­ur­al world, best rep­re­sent­ed by the math­e­mat­i­cal geo­g­ra­phers and astronomers of Alexan­dria; and the Roman genius for con­quest, admin­is­tra­tion, and technology.

From this potent con­flu­ence of tra­di­tions, the Sci­en­tif­ic Rev­o­lu­tion was ignit­ed, and the mod­ern world was born.

Armed with gun­pow­der, com­pass­es, sea charts, math­e­mat­i­cal astron­o­my, and superb sail­ing ships, Euro­peans set out to dis­cov­er and sub­due the world. They were dri­ven by curios­i­ty, adven­ture, greed, and an arro­gant sense of reli­gious and cul­tur­al supe­ri­or­i­ty — in short, by the best and worst of human motivations.

On Octo­ber 12, 1492, three ships with bil­low­ing sails appeared just east of here. The peo­ple of the Bahamas, the Lucayans, must have gaped in won­der at the strange appari­tion — great birds furl­ing their wings, deliv­er­ing gods from the sky. They quick­ly over­came their sur­prise and wel­comed the visitors.

At the time of first Euro­pean con­tact, there were per­haps 50,000 to 80,000 peo­ple liv­ing among these islands, about the same den­si­ty as today, exclud­ing the cen­ters of Nas­sau and Freeport.

Twen­ty-one years lat­er, in 1513, Ponce de Leon sailed through the Bahamas on his way to Flori­da in search of rich­es, slaves, and the myth­i­cal Foun­tain of Youth. He encoun­tered only one old man in all of the islands. With­in two decades, the Spaniards had cap­tured and deport­ed vir­tu­al­ly every Lucayan to work as slaves in the gold mines of His­pan­io­la and the pearl fish­eries of Venezue­lan coastal waters. Most of the trans­plant­ed Lucayans died of mal­nu­tri­tion, harsh treat­ment, or of Euro­pean dis­eases, against which they had few defenses.

Sel­dom has extinc­tion been so com­plete. A peo­ple had van­ished from the Earth.

How does one bring a lost peo­ple back to life?

We have the reports of the Spaniards, begin­ning with Colum­bus, who alter­nate­ly describe the Lucayans as hand­some, care­free, and friend­ly, or naked, sav­age, and of small intel­lect, depend­ing upon the desired effect of the reports. In oth­er words, the writ­ten records are so cor­rupt­ed by pro­pa­gan­da that they are rel­a­tive­ly use­less as his­tor­i­cal evidence.

That makes the recon­struc­tion of the Lucayan peo­ple a task for arche­ol­o­gists. Unfor­tu­nate­ly, there is no con­spic­u­ous evi­dence any­where in these islands of the Lucayans’ pres­ence, noth­ing to attract the atten­tion of an Indi­ana Jones. They left no tem­ples, no mon­u­ments, no tombs rich with funer­ary goods. No gold­en idols lay buried in Bahami­an sands.

The Lucayans led a Club Med kind of life: scant cloth­ing, sun, seafood, drink, beads, thatched vil­las. Their imprint on the land­scape was gen­tle, and when they were exter­mi­nat­ed by Euro­pean greed, they left few traces behind.

For­tu­nate­ly, there are aca­d­e­m­ic researchers who rel­ish the chal­lenge of recon­struct­ing a lost peo­ple from frag­men­tary evi­dence, and the last sev­er­al decades have seen a care­ful sur­vey of the islands for arche­o­log­i­cal sites. More than 500 Lucayan habi­ta­tion sites have now been iden­ti­fied, and many have been care­ful­ly excavated.

Large arti­facts are rare. A sin­gle mahogany canoe has been found, prob­a­bly craft­ed to accom­pa­ny the bur­ial of an impor­tant per­son. A cou­ple of pad­dles. Some wood­en stools, most like­ly used as sym­bols of chiefdom.

For the rest, it is the usu­al nit­ty-grit­ty of arche­ol­o­gy: tools of stone, bone or shell; mark­ings in the earth where house posts have long since rot­ted away; food mid­dens; fire pits; jew­el­ry and arti­facts of per­son­al adorn­ment; skele­tal remains.

From the human skele­tons that have been found, it would appear that the Lucayans lived long and healthy lives. Sev­er­al indi­vid­u­als were more than 60 when they died. Most males were over 40. Child­bear­ing took a heavy toll among women, but that was uni­ver­sal in those days. Only two skele­tons show any kind of patholo­gies, both con­di­tions prob­a­bly caused by div­ing for fish or shell­fish in deep water.

Food from land and sea seems to have been plentiful.

It would seem that the Lucayans enjoyed pret­ty much the kind of lifestyle that brings tourists to these sun-drenched islands today.

Then the bil­low­ing sails appeared on the hori­zon, and with­in a gen­er­a­tion the islands were empty.

There are lay­ers of irony here. It was geo­graph­i­cal and astro­nom­i­cal knowl­edge acquired by the Alexan­dri­ans and recov­ered by Euro­peans at the time of the Renais­sance that made it pos­si­ble for Colum­bus and his suc­ces­sors to cross the Atlantic and exert their dom­i­na­tion. In a sense, it was sci­ence that sealed the fate of the Lucayans.

Knowl­edge is pow­er for those who know how to use it, and know­ing how to use it was the unique­ly Euro­pean inno­va­tion that gave rise to the worst excess­es of Euro­pean cul­tur­al, reli­gious, and polit­i­cal imperialism.

But the Alexan­dri­an tra­di­tion of knowl­edge for knowl­edge’s sake is still alive, and that is what brings arche­ol­o­gists to these islands, to dig in the sand, sift for slight evi­dence of human habi­ta­tion, then painstak­ing­ly recon­struct a lost people.

It would be bet­ter, of course, if the Lucayans had not been oblit­er­at­ed, but for­tu­nate that they are not entire­ly for­got­ten. Two faces of the same sci­en­tif­ic quest.

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