Shamanism in Siberia: Russian Records of Indigenous Spirituality by Andrei A. Znamenski. Boston and London: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 2003. Biblio.; illus.; index; 371 pp.; $138.00 (cloth).
Reviewed by Timothy White. Reprinted from Shaman's Drum, Number 69.
Andrei A. Znamenski’s reference book Shamanism in Siberia: Russian Records of Indigenous Spirituality includes annotated summaries in English of more than a hundred books and essays about Siberian shamanism. Grouped into three sections—“Recording Shamanism in Old Russia,” “Siberian Shamanism in Soviet Imagination,” and “Records of Siberian Spirituality in Present-Day Russia”—the descriptions in Shamanism in Siberia provide an informative look at over a hundred years of shamanological research conducted by many renowned Russian scholars—including Andrei Anokhin, Vladimir Basilov, Matvei Khangalov, and Leonid Potapov—as well as by Russian-educated indigenous scholars, such as Tuvan folklorist Mongush Kenin-Lopsan and Buryat ethnographer Irina S. Urbanaeva. Although some works annotated in this volume have been translated into English, many are still available only in Russian; simply by calling attention to these
resources, this volume provides an important scholastic service.
Znamenski states that he intended this volume as a reference guide to lesser-known Russian resources, and it is designed to complement texts already available in English—including Shamanism: Soviet Studies of Traditional Religion in Siberia and Central Asia by Marjorie Mandelstam Balzer, Shamanism by Ronald Hutton, and the Bibliotheca Shamanistica series edited by Mihály Hoppál. Since the book includes many scholarly pieces that deal with fairly technical topics—for example, the use of shamanic costumes as protective armor, the shamanistic pantheon of the Teleut, and the role of “functional neuroses” in Tungus shamanism—it may prove more useful to shamanologists and historians than to shamanic practitioners.
Due to the fact that the individual entries in each section of the book are arranged alphabetically, an entry on the spiritual language of Yupik and Inuit shamans by Waldemar Bogoraz, originally published in 1919, is followed by a piece on the curing practices of Tuva and Altai shamans by V. P. Diakonova, published in 1981, which is, in turn, followed by a review of an essay on shamanic power among Turkic tribes by N. P. Dyrenkova, published in 1930. One drawback of this alphabetical arrangement is that, by skipping back and forth across Siberia, the book inadvertently promotes the view that Siberian shamanisms are all part of a monolithic, unified phenomena—a view that is not supported by available ethnographic evidence. Considering Znamenski’s stated interest in illuminating the evolution of attitudes toward Siberian shamanisms, it might have been more productive to arrange the entries chronologically. Or, it might have been useful if the entries had been organized by tribal groups in order to allow readers to compare contrasting views on specific traditions.
One strength—and simultaneous weakness—of Znamenski’s descriptive reviews is that he summarizes each author’s viewpoints and theories with minimal interpretation. In a text intended for academic use, this neutrality is useful because it provides differing viewpoints on controversial topics. However, by presenting conflicting theories without addressing the relevancy of the authors’ research methods or the accuracy of their conclusions, Znamenski does little to illuminate and resolve the controversies. For example, he summarizes several recent essays by S. I. Vainshtein—identified only as “a renowned student of Tuvan shamanism”—who argues that the shamanic call among the Tuvans was traditionally triggered by a stereotypical shamanic illness known as albystaar—a word also used to describe hysterical fits or insanity. Znamenski states that Vainshtein proposed—based on genealogical data collected from Altai and Tuva psychiatric institutions—that the so-called shamanic illness was “neuropsychological and hereditary” in nature. Unfortunately, Znamenski neither confirms nor challenges Vainshtein’s data, nor does he indicate that, during the 1950s and 1960s, Vainshtein was a senior fellow at the heavily politicized Russian Academy of Sciences in Moscow—an institution that often portrayed shamans as deceitful charlatans. Vainshtein once claimed that shamanism had disappeared in Tuva. However, the success of Tuvan folklorist Mongush Kenin-Lopsan and his shamanism center in Kyzyl suggests that shamanism not only has survived Soviet repression but is still thriving in Tuva.
Despite his apparent neutrality, Znamenski seems to downplay the views of shamanologists who have proposed alternate cultural origins for the so-called shaman disease. He briefly mentions in passing—but does not expound on—Vladamir Basilov’s theory that the “shamanic illnesses” were promoted by cultural expectations that saw these illnesses as vital indicators of potential shamans. He does report, in his summary of A. V. Smoliak’s book The Shaman: Personality, Functions, Worldview (Lower Amur River Tribes), that Smoliak found that Nanai and Ulchi shamans never experienced any “mental disorders” except when they were initially called by spirits to their shamanic vocation—and that, once the novices were initiated, the “disorders” completely disappeared. It would have been instructive if Znamenski had addressed the symbolic and functional roles of these illnesses in initiating shamans.
In contrast to his descriptive annotations of individual works, Znamenski’s introduction—titled “Russian and Soviet Perceptions of Siberian Shamanism”—offers many useful insights into the backgrounds of authors and into the evolution of Russian ethnographic prejudices. For example, he points out that many early German explorers and Russian missionaries portrayed Siberian shamans as deceitful, mentally unstable misfits—often without even bothering to engage in field observations of shamans. Znamenski calls attention to how this erroneous image of shamans was promoted by Russian ethnographer Waldemar Bogoraz in a 1910 paper, “Toward Psychology of Shamanism among the Tribes of Northeastern Asia,” where Bogoraz argued that shamanism was a “form of religion that was created through the selection of mentally unstable people.” Although Bogoraz eventually adopted a more balanced view of shamans in some of his later reports for the American Museum of Natural History, his early negative viewpoints were adopted as “proven” facts by many Soviet scholars and used by Soviet authorities to justify their persecution of shamans.
Many of the texts described in this volume bear vivid testimony to the fact that in Russia, as elsewhere, old scholastic paradigms are very resistant to change. For example, Znamenski points out how a 1974 article by E. V. Revunekova identified Russian ethnographer Sergei Shirokogoroff as one of the first Russians to challenge the view that shamans were neurotics, based on his extensive field observations of the Tungus in the 1930s. Ironically, Revunekova’s analysis of several decades of Russian ethnographic reports found that “in the studies dealing with tribal variants of shamanism, one now finds assessments similar to the ones articulated by Shirokogoroff, [while] in the works dealing with shamanism in general, one might sense the traditional view of shamanism as a nervous disorder.”
In his introduction, Znamenski specifically challenges several other prevailing misconceptions about Siberian shamanism, revealing how such prejudices often influence field research and conclusions. For example, he points out that early Russian scholastic guidelines once encouraged ethnographers to approach “native spirituality with crude positivist tools by ‘dismembering’ indigenous beliefs into categories and elements.” Since these guidelines instructed field researchers to look specifically for “black” (underworld) shamans and “white” (celestial) shamans, researchers obligingly reduced “tribal shamanisms into an artificial dichotomy that later acquired all attributes of an established scholarly metaphor.” Several contemporary Native ethnographers represented in this volume, including Irina S. Urbanaeva, argue that the split between celestial and underworld ceremonies was a late adaptation promoted by Westerners.
On the whole, Shamanism in Siberia provides an instructive sampling of Russian resources on shamanism, but it is vital to remember that—as Znamenski admits—“the present collection is unavoidably selective.” By focusing almost entirely on books and articles that have not been translated into English, this volume offers an eclectic gallery of perspectives—“written by Russians and natives, explorers and missionaries, outsiders and insiders, ethnographers and esoteric writers.” Unfortunately, in the process of documenting lesser-known works, the volume under-represents many of the most perceptive and best documented studies on Siberian shamanisms. For example, it only mentions in passing Sergei Shirogoroff’s monumental study of Tungus shamans, and it does not examine the excellent reports by many foreign ethnographers, such as Waldemar Jochelson, Kai Donner, Vilmos Diószegi, and Mihály Hoppál. In short, this volume may serve scholars as a useful annotated research guide, but its selective scope and contrasting viewpoints may limit its general use.
Timothy White is editor of Shaman’s Drum.
Reviewed by Timothy White. Reprinted from Shaman's Drum, Number 69.
Andrei A. Znamenski’s reference book Shamanism in Siberia: Russian Records of Indigenous Spirituality includes annotated summaries in English of more than a hundred books and essays about Siberian shamanism. Grouped into three sections—“Recording Shamanism in Old Russia,” “Siberian Shamanism in Soviet Imagination,” and “Records of Siberian Spirituality in Present-Day Russia”—the descriptions in Shamanism in Siberia provide an informative look at over a hundred years of shamanological research conducted by many renowned Russian scholars—including Andrei Anokhin, Vladimir Basilov, Matvei Khangalov, and Leonid Potapov—as well as by Russian-educated indigenous scholars, such as Tuvan folklorist Mongush Kenin-Lopsan and Buryat ethnographer Irina S. Urbanaeva. Although some works annotated in this volume have been translated into English, many are still available only in Russian; simply by calling attention to these
resources, this volume provides an important scholastic service.Znamenski states that he intended this volume as a reference guide to lesser-known Russian resources, and it is designed to complement texts already available in English—including Shamanism: Soviet Studies of Traditional Religion in Siberia and Central Asia by Marjorie Mandelstam Balzer, Shamanism by Ronald Hutton, and the Bibliotheca Shamanistica series edited by Mihály Hoppál. Since the book includes many scholarly pieces that deal with fairly technical topics—for example, the use of shamanic costumes as protective armor, the shamanistic pantheon of the Teleut, and the role of “functional neuroses” in Tungus shamanism—it may prove more useful to shamanologists and historians than to shamanic practitioners.
Due to the fact that the individual entries in each section of the book are arranged alphabetically, an entry on the spiritual language of Yupik and Inuit shamans by Waldemar Bogoraz, originally published in 1919, is followed by a piece on the curing practices of Tuva and Altai shamans by V. P. Diakonova, published in 1981, which is, in turn, followed by a review of an essay on shamanic power among Turkic tribes by N. P. Dyrenkova, published in 1930. One drawback of this alphabetical arrangement is that, by skipping back and forth across Siberia, the book inadvertently promotes the view that Siberian shamanisms are all part of a monolithic, unified phenomena—a view that is not supported by available ethnographic evidence. Considering Znamenski’s stated interest in illuminating the evolution of attitudes toward Siberian shamanisms, it might have been more productive to arrange the entries chronologically. Or, it might have been useful if the entries had been organized by tribal groups in order to allow readers to compare contrasting views on specific traditions.
One strength—and simultaneous weakness—of Znamenski’s descriptive reviews is that he summarizes each author’s viewpoints and theories with minimal interpretation. In a text intended for academic use, this neutrality is useful because it provides differing viewpoints on controversial topics. However, by presenting conflicting theories without addressing the relevancy of the authors’ research methods or the accuracy of their conclusions, Znamenski does little to illuminate and resolve the controversies. For example, he summarizes several recent essays by S. I. Vainshtein—identified only as “a renowned student of Tuvan shamanism”—who argues that the shamanic call among the Tuvans was traditionally triggered by a stereotypical shamanic illness known as albystaar—a word also used to describe hysterical fits or insanity. Znamenski states that Vainshtein proposed—based on genealogical data collected from Altai and Tuva psychiatric institutions—that the so-called shamanic illness was “neuropsychological and hereditary” in nature. Unfortunately, Znamenski neither confirms nor challenges Vainshtein’s data, nor does he indicate that, during the 1950s and 1960s, Vainshtein was a senior fellow at the heavily politicized Russian Academy of Sciences in Moscow—an institution that often portrayed shamans as deceitful charlatans. Vainshtein once claimed that shamanism had disappeared in Tuva. However, the success of Tuvan folklorist Mongush Kenin-Lopsan and his shamanism center in Kyzyl suggests that shamanism not only has survived Soviet repression but is still thriving in Tuva.
Despite his apparent neutrality, Znamenski seems to downplay the views of shamanologists who have proposed alternate cultural origins for the so-called shaman disease. He briefly mentions in passing—but does not expound on—Vladamir Basilov’s theory that the “shamanic illnesses” were promoted by cultural expectations that saw these illnesses as vital indicators of potential shamans. He does report, in his summary of A. V. Smoliak’s book The Shaman: Personality, Functions, Worldview (Lower Amur River Tribes), that Smoliak found that Nanai and Ulchi shamans never experienced any “mental disorders” except when they were initially called by spirits to their shamanic vocation—and that, once the novices were initiated, the “disorders” completely disappeared. It would have been instructive if Znamenski had addressed the symbolic and functional roles of these illnesses in initiating shamans.
In contrast to his descriptive annotations of individual works, Znamenski’s introduction—titled “Russian and Soviet Perceptions of Siberian Shamanism”—offers many useful insights into the backgrounds of authors and into the evolution of Russian ethnographic prejudices. For example, he points out that many early German explorers and Russian missionaries portrayed Siberian shamans as deceitful, mentally unstable misfits—often without even bothering to engage in field observations of shamans. Znamenski calls attention to how this erroneous image of shamans was promoted by Russian ethnographer Waldemar Bogoraz in a 1910 paper, “Toward Psychology of Shamanism among the Tribes of Northeastern Asia,” where Bogoraz argued that shamanism was a “form of religion that was created through the selection of mentally unstable people.” Although Bogoraz eventually adopted a more balanced view of shamans in some of his later reports for the American Museum of Natural History, his early negative viewpoints were adopted as “proven” facts by many Soviet scholars and used by Soviet authorities to justify their persecution of shamans.
Many of the texts described in this volume bear vivid testimony to the fact that in Russia, as elsewhere, old scholastic paradigms are very resistant to change. For example, Znamenski points out how a 1974 article by E. V. Revunekova identified Russian ethnographer Sergei Shirokogoroff as one of the first Russians to challenge the view that shamans were neurotics, based on his extensive field observations of the Tungus in the 1930s. Ironically, Revunekova’s analysis of several decades of Russian ethnographic reports found that “in the studies dealing with tribal variants of shamanism, one now finds assessments similar to the ones articulated by Shirokogoroff, [while] in the works dealing with shamanism in general, one might sense the traditional view of shamanism as a nervous disorder.”
In his introduction, Znamenski specifically challenges several other prevailing misconceptions about Siberian shamanism, revealing how such prejudices often influence field research and conclusions. For example, he points out that early Russian scholastic guidelines once encouraged ethnographers to approach “native spirituality with crude positivist tools by ‘dismembering’ indigenous beliefs into categories and elements.” Since these guidelines instructed field researchers to look specifically for “black” (underworld) shamans and “white” (celestial) shamans, researchers obligingly reduced “tribal shamanisms into an artificial dichotomy that later acquired all attributes of an established scholarly metaphor.” Several contemporary Native ethnographers represented in this volume, including Irina S. Urbanaeva, argue that the split between celestial and underworld ceremonies was a late adaptation promoted by Westerners.
On the whole, Shamanism in Siberia provides an instructive sampling of Russian resources on shamanism, but it is vital to remember that—as Znamenski admits—“the present collection is unavoidably selective.” By focusing almost entirely on books and articles that have not been translated into English, this volume offers an eclectic gallery of perspectives—“written by Russians and natives, explorers and missionaries, outsiders and insiders, ethnographers and esoteric writers.” Unfortunately, in the process of documenting lesser-known works, the volume under-represents many of the most perceptive and best documented studies on Siberian shamanisms. For example, it only mentions in passing Sergei Shirogoroff’s monumental study of Tungus shamans, and it does not examine the excellent reports by many foreign ethnographers, such as Waldemar Jochelson, Kai Donner, Vilmos Diószegi, and Mihály Hoppál. In short, this volume may serve scholars as a useful annotated research guide, but its selective scope and contrasting viewpoints may limit its general use.
Timothy White is editor of Shaman’s Drum.
Published by Shaman's Drum and the Cross-Cultural Shamanism Network, copyright 2005. This article is intended for the noncommercial use of shamansdrum.org users, and it may not be reproduced or sold without the written permission of the publishers:
Shaman's Drum, P.O. Box 270, Williams, OR 97544 ~ 1-541-846-1313