FRIDAY, MARCH 11, 2011
A Tale of Two Islands
Sometimes some humans have a better idea
Eric Lee, A-SOCIATED PRESS
TOPICS: GROWTH, FULL SPEED AHEAD, FROM THE WIRES, REALITY-BASED, SURVIVAL ISSUES
Abstract: While based on historical islands, details are imagined based on principles of systems ecology. The stories illustrate issues that arise for those living on islands, including those living on Island Earth.
TUCSON (A-P) — M.S. not found in a bottle:
Rathsi's Tale
Muzuki had taken to spending more time alone on the central mountain
where he could see the entire island and its reef below. For over a
thousand years his people, the Polynesians, had spread from island to
island, ever eastward, and Muzuki, Master Navigator, was again looking
to the east. He knew 78 islands to the west and how to navigate to each,
even the ones he had never visited, but knew of none to the east.
Several navigators before him had sailed to the furthest points of no
return—east, southeast, northeast before turning around, but had found
no new lands. Now this island was filling up; only a few trees large
enough to make voyaging canoes remained—it was time to go.
Going meant going to the point of no return and beyond. If no land
were found, all would die at sea. Few were willing to go, but Muzuki's
youngest daughter, her husband, and six other couples were prepared to
sail into the rising sun.
Overseeing the construction of the voyaging canoe, the Space Shuttle
of his culture, and its provisioning occupied Muzuki for over a year—no
detail could be overlooked. Finally, in a tearful parting, fifteen
adults, ten children, eight chickens, two bred sows, and seeds, roots,
or cuttings of all useful plants set sail to the east.
On the 43rd day, in the late afternoon, Muzuki saw a seabird flying
high towards the southeast and changed course. Three days later a speck
of island appeared on the horizon. It was a relatively large island
mostly covered in giant palm trees of a kind no one had seen before.
Soon gardens were planted and the roosters crowed.
The next year Muzuki led a voyage to explore for islands further
east; five children were born that year, but no new islands were found. The
next year they explored to the south; the oldest of the children was now
a woman and gave birth to a daughter, and no new lands were found. In
the third year Muzuki discovered a reef far to the northeast upon which
waves broke, but there was no land to settle. The home island, called
Rathsi to honor the gods, now had 20 children to call it home.
By the eighth year both Muzuki and the voyaging canoe were too old to
explore any more, and it mattered little because by then Muzuki knew
there were no more islands within reach. For now there was no reason to
go beyond the furthest horizon. It was a big island and there were now
71 rather fat people and 312 chickens living on it (the pigs had died
before reaching the island).
It was a big island for so few people, but not so big that Muzuki,
standing on the central mountain, could not see all of it. It was a
paradise of rare device, but Muzuki's thoughts were troubled. It would
be long after his death before the island filled with people, but fill
it would and there were no new islands.
On the twelfth year Muzuki called together the four clans. He was old
and he must speak. Only 24 of Rathsi's 108 inhabitants were old enough
to listen when he rose to speak. He told them that the gods had truly
blessed them in guiding them to this island of plenty, and that in his
dreams the gods had spoken to him. They said that each clan was to claim
one twentieth of the island as their own to farm, build upon, to cut
down the trees therein, to harvest the fruit, and to use as they wisely
saw fit. Also each could claim one twentieth of the shoreline and reef
to fish and harvest its bounty of seafood. Each clan could claim any
part of the island, but only a twentieth part for their use. Altogether
the people would have one-fifth of the island and the rest would belong
to the gods. The gods decreed that if anyone so much as tried to take
any part of the remaining four-fifths, all the people would be punished
harshly.
The people could not understand why the gods would speak of such
things. One-fifth of the island was far more than the people needed. But
the gods are hard to understand, and so the people honored the decree
of the gods. In the following year Muzuki helped the clans place the
boundary stones marking those portions of land and sea that the gods had
allowed the people to claim.
The fifteenth year, Muzuki knew, would be his last. For the last time
he spoke to the people. There were 154 of them now. He told all who
would listen that the day would come when their fifth of the island
would not seem to be enough. Only then would the decree of the gods be
difficult to heed.
"When that time comes some will say that it is right for the people to
take the whole island for themselves, but they must not be listened to.
The decree will be hard to follow because there will be too many people
and you will know there are too many people when they start to say
their fifth is not enough, that they need more and more. Do not listen;
say instead that the people of Rathsi must adopt new ways. Say that from
now on none can be born except by decree, and that only the death of
one can decree the birth of another. To this rule there can be no
exceptions. Do what you must to live by it. Only then will the gods
continue to favor you."
The people listened and said, “Yes, Muzuki, we will,” but few
understood. Several centuries passed, the people prospered, and in time
some began to say that one-fifth of the island is not enough. Though
Muzuki's name was well remembered, his warning was not, and so it came
to pass that those who must have more took the rest of the island and
prospered exceedingly while the gods did nothing to punish them. Muzuki
came to be known as tena'n te, “the old fool.”
Another century passed before the last of the giant palms were cut
down. Mamo had cut it down to make a fishing canoe. He and his family
prospered exceedingly when theirs was the last of the great fishing
canoes on the beach. The old ones told of other plants and animals that
had once lived on the island; the stories of the old were listened to
with bemused tolerance. There were now 13,649 proud people on the island
for they had built great monuments that would last for centuries to
come, filling the gods themselves with wonder.
But a dark day was coming. The people clamored for more, but there was
no more. Some began to take from others; their things, their food,
their land, then their lives; and the warriors, those who could take
what they wanted, ruled the island. They took and they fought; they ate
all that could not fly away, then they ate each other.
There were now 2,194 people, yet still there was not enough, still
they took and fought. They disfigured the statues of their ancestors. They
fought over the snails remaining in the tide pools and cooked them by
burning grass. The people had been punished harshly.
Aipokit's Tale
It was a small island (460 hectares, 1,137 acres), but it had never seen the footprints of
people before. Kopai the Navigator and 28 others who had survived the
fighting and the long voyage were grateful to be alive—to have come upon
a new land where they could start over. But this time, Kopai swore, his
children and their children would forever walk a different path. A
thousand islands had been chanced upon; a thousand times the people
prospered; a thousand times the fighting began—clan against clan, the
people of one island against another. A thousand times “plenty” became
“not enough.”
People and pigs had survived the voyage. Now they foraged and grew
fat. Patches of forest were cleared, gardens planted, and the people and
pigs multiplied. Kopai had seen many islands and knew how many people
and pigs there could be before tensions arose and conflict ensued. He
surveyed the small island and its reef. Eight, he thought, maybe nine
hundred people before the trouble began. He would be dead by then, but
he thought of the generations to come and of the new path they would
have to follow—and he swore that the horror he had known would not be
known again.
Twenty eight years passed, and Kopai thought and thought, and taught his
people well. There were now 108 of them, half under the age of twelve.
The pigs, with their large litters, had already become too numerous, but
the excess could simply be eaten. Already the people could see that as
the number of people increased, the number of pigs would have to
decrease, for they were eating the same foods.
Kopai had been relentless in pointing out the limits to growth on the
small island, and had led discussion after discussion about what would
have to happen when people as well as pigs reached their limit. He would
be dead, but on this small island his great-great-grandchildren would have to stop
and change course; they would have to do the hard things. The pigs could
simply be eaten, but they must never, as Kopai had often said, end up
eating each other.
And when their numbers reached five hundred they had to transition to no growth, for Kopai had thought well and taught well, and everyone
understood that if the 264 children now among them had large families,
then there would soon be too many. They understood that the horrors
Kopai had often spoke of would visit their little island if they did not
stop in time—well before the island was full.
Kopai and the other first people had laid the foundation for change. First there would be late marriages and those who would forego
marriage were honored and rewarded. As the children came of age they
were taught to pleasure themselves and the young men were given special
instruction in how to please their lover in ways that would not result
in her becoming with child. Great praise was attached to this skill—and
skilled lovers were much favored by the women who returned the favor by
hand, anus, and mouth.
If a couple wished to have a child they would announce their intent
and ask for the people's blessing—and when the number of humans must stop growing, the death of one became their
blessing. To be with child without the people's blessing was a sad
thing—knowledge of abortion had been preserved and the skill was
practiced as needed. Unblessed births forced humane infanticide. Those who chafed at such limits were encouraged to
build canoes and voyage far beyond the horizon.
In this manner the nine hundred lived, their culture evolved in wisdom
and beauty, great stories were told and retold; the three clans lived in
peace, and over a thousand years passed. Then the people did a remarkable
thing. They loved their pigs dearly but they loved one another more. One
day, by mutual agreement, they killed all the pigs.
Their skill in husbanding the resources of the island had grown over
the centuries, and now, without the pigs, there were 1,200 people living
on a tiny island, and the centuries passed.
But an evil day came upon them. Enormous canoes came from over the
horizon and brought a wealth of things the people had never dreamed of,
and with these things came new teachings. A solemn man, dressed in
black, had gathered the people together and said, "There is
only one religion, and only one way to serve God, and if you do not
embrace the right way you cannot be happy hereafter. You have never
worshiped the Great Spirit in a manner acceptable to him; but have all
your lives been in great errors and darkness." (ref)
A council was held to consider the man's words, and the man in black
was asked to leave the island, never to return. But many, especially the
young people, were fascinated by the wondrous things and wanted more.
Within just fifty years, a different man in black had built a white
house on the island for his god. He was relentless in teaching them his
new ways. He taught them to be ashamed of their sexual practices, he
taught them the missionary position and the missionary way. The practice
of abortion was the devil's work, and so they stopped. Being fruitful
and multiplying was God's work, and so they did as the others did.
Within just fifty years, everyone on the island was as children to the
men in black.
Today, there are still 1,200 people living on the island (Tikopia). Ships come and go. Things come and people go. There are now more Tikopians living off the island than on it (they export population to other islands). And of the 1,200, half may be under eighteen years of age. This suggests the Tikopians were assimilated, resistance having proved futile, even though 1,200 still have Tikopian identity memes in their heads and live on the island as other indigenous live elsewhere.
What the Aipokitans have forgotten and the men in black never taught or knew
is that we are all living on an 'island'. A great Island, one floating
in the vastness of space, but an 'island' nevertheless. What Kopai had so
long ago learned the hard way, the peoples of this Island must someday
learn again.
The expansionist culture works, but only on the leading edge of expansion (e.g. Māori who were patriarchal, ecocidal, invasive species expansionists extraordinaire before Indo-European contact). Once an island or region is taken, the expansionist culture selects for failure, and so everywhere the descendants of expansionists (the ones left behind) have had to renormalize somewhat to persist. A possibly remarkable thing about the Tikopians and Moriori is that they (perhaps starting with one leader who changed the culture) attempted to renormalize in a conscious, intentional, meta-reflexive way, with partial success, enough to persist (avoid dissolution/local extinction). The typical pattern has been to renormalize somewhat, minimally, while retaining as much of one's expansionist culture for as long as possible.
The first Tikopians, Melanesian expansionists, were forced to live like renormalizing K-strategists for 2k years until conquered by Polynesian expansionists 1k years ago who were in turn forced to renormalize enough to persist, but who again expanded when the possibility arose, such that following the coming of Indo-European expansionists in 1606, there are now six times more Tikopians than there were in the early 20th century, though 5/6ths live off of Tikopia on other islands where it is easier to import foods.
But this is not a narrative we moderns like to tell. My interpretation of the data is that indigenous cultures are all, with noted exceptions, descendants of a common expansionist ancestor that all MTIed humans share. The MTI expansion was by agro-wood-wind empowered post-Roman-dissolution Indo-Europeans who happen to be the first to exploit a planetary larder of fossil fuels to extract/produce/consume all other low-hanging fruits of Gaia.
Some indigenous cultures were forced to renormalize more than others, but with the exception of the Tairona and Muisca cultures, none consciously disavowed their expansionist form of culture such that when expansion again became possible, they refused. Compared to us modern expansionists, they may appear to be vastly less expansionistic, but this is an illusion in that they never effectively renormalized. The San (the few not yet assimilated) may have never been culturally denormalized, and the Kogi may be the only former expansionists to have conscientiously by intent renormalized such that when the opportunity to become expansionists presented itself, they refused to embrace their former ways.
In the mid-twentieth century Tikopia had a dense population that caused anxiety among the people's leaders, who feared food shortages. (In 1952-1953 a famine occurred as a result of a tropical cyclone.) In 1929 the population was about 1,270; by 1952 it had increased 39% to about 1,750. 
But by about 1980, through emigration, the population on Tikopia Island had been reduced to about 1,100, while another 1,200 or so Tikopia lived in the external settlements and around Honiara, the capital of the Solomons and more on other islands. Now the substantial settlements abroad include Nukufero in the Russell Islands, Nukukaisi (Waimasi) in San Cristobal, and Murivai in Vanikoro. There is much interchange of population between the settlements and Tikopia Island. No official census data. In 1985 there were a claimed 3,320 speakers of the Tikopian language. Missionary sources claim up to 7,200 Tikopians today. Most speak English and all can use "pijin." And 98% are Christian (chief converted in 1950s), but of deep concern to some, most are not evangelical Christians.
What to do?
Consider: Island Ethics
Go back to the party
