Darwin's Savages

 

When Charles Darwin first encountered the indigenous people of Tiera del Fuego (whom he characterized as the Fuegians), he was mortified by their ugliness, uncleanliness, and the habitation of what appeared to be a forlorn land, windswept, barren, and cold. Why would anyone, any human, want to live in this way? They were closer to beasts than humans and destined for 'extermination' in their encounter with that higher form of humanity that Darwin obviously represented.

By 'extermination,' Darwin did not appear to mean a conscious act of genocide. On the Argentine mainland, he had witnessed the government's war against its indigenous population and strongly disapproved of its violence (as he too opposed the slavery he had seen in Brazil). He rather appeared to mean by the natural progress of mankind in what would become to be seen (and explained) as its progressive evolution, the strong driving out the weak. Indeed, Darwin was to be a lifelong contributor to the local mission society that sought (in his terms) to modify and ameliorate this unfolding reality with the necessary care and sought for integration (and disappearance) of the indigenous peacefully.

Nothing is especially unfamiliar here - the standard view of an English liberal at the time of his country's progressive ascent as 'leader of the world' - except, of course, this is Darwin, the man who is to become the most influential scientist of the nineteenth century and help shape thought well beyond the boundaries of biology per see. It was the popularity of his account of his Voyage that brought widespread attention to Patagonia and a slowly evolving sense of its potential (and its 'emptiness' as far as 'civilization' was concerned).  

An implicit question (one whose answer remains controversial even now) of Matthew Carr's excellent book is how far that influence acted in Argentina and Chile's political space to give intellectual coverage to what happened next - the slow inexorable conquest of Patagonia, its accompanying near genocidal consequences and the extraordinary disrespect shown to indigenous people's lives even in their deaths as a quite ghoulish 'scientific' quest for remains was pursued that was meant to unlock the clues to human 'progress' (and evolution). Only now are some of those remains being restored to their connected communities.

Sometimes Carr's two narratives - Darwin and the science of human evolution - and a comprehensive account of the expansion of the Argentinian and Chilean states run in parallel (the latter, after all, could be encapsulated in the familiar human story of greed) but often they weave together in illuminating ways for on the whole we prefer loftier ambitions than admit to (or give coverage for) our greed! 

Or, more exactly, our motivations are complex goods, woven of many strands, and several are admirably displayed here, not least how we choose to commend 'progress'. The indigenous inhabitants (a more diverse group than Fuegians) of Tiera del Fuego had successfully lived in a challenging environment for several thousand years, adopting diverse and intelligent strategies for survival and flourishing. An innings significantly longer than our own 'civilized' paradigm, on which, I think we can safely say, the judgement is still out concerning its longevity! 

What is striking in all Carr's accounts is the extraordinary weight our assumptions carry in explaining the world, often before we have actually looked, which in Darwin's case is of high irony - would that he had looked as carefully at the Feugians as he did finches!