Where's the History?
Although evidence from prehistoric
times is “comparatively sparse,” The Myth of Matriarchal
Prehistory tells us that “the matriarchal myth fails completely
on historical grounds.” [Eller, 81] If so, this book doesn't provide
them. There is little history and much theory. Citing the early deaths
of women at Catal Höyük (average age in the 20s) and high infant
mortality, Eller concludes the situation was unlikely to cause reverence
for 
miraculous
pregnancy and birth as “the gifts of a munificent goddess.”
[99] (On that analogy, world suffering precludes beneficent deities in
any religion.) It would be just as easy to conclude that the danger of
childbearing intensified the impulse to appeal to its goddess for protection,
and might even have given it the charge of a shamanistic passage.
<<< Hongshan culture, China
Eller rejects the idea that women’s burial under the central platforms
carries any implications of high status. After all, the men might still
have owned the platforms and “buried their wives and children under
them” out of affection—or to underscore their ownership of
them as property! [100] The unlikeliness of these interpretations is pointed
up by the fact that the men are buried on the peripheries. If they had
been found buried in the shrine centers, archaeologists would have held
that up as a predictable confirmation of their importance and authority.
The statement that “most remains are not detectably gendered”
[87] may be true. The problem is that until recently archaeologists paid
scant attention to evidence about gender. They made big assumptions about
the kind of grave goods that would go with males or females, sexing burials
by grave goods rather than by skeleton analysis. Often, even usually,
they failed to record relevant data. I'm reminded of how medical researchers
(in another male-dominated field) took men as the norm and extrapolated
about women’s health from that. Eller concedes that archaeologists
“typically rely on ethnographic analogies” to interpret remains.
The question is: which cultures are to be used for comparison?
The book’s skeptical stance fades
as Eller turns to the “third gender” option now in fashion.
Not only is the evidence for female power problematic, but “we cannot
assume that a female skeleton is a woman.” She may have been biologically
male but socially female, or vice versa. But if it is difficult to prove
female authority from prehistoric remains, it is an even more daunting
task to prove “that gender was a pronounced category in prehistory
and that it was characterized by ‘variability, permeability, changeability,
and ambiguity’.” [89-90] Maybe so, but here the stern demand
for evidence is suddenly missing in action.
Eller writes that theories for the cause
of patriarchy “tend to find fault with men,” who are described
as awful and wicked. But then she says that “narrators of the myth
are generally reluctant to blame men...” [48] So which is it? Eller
alludes briefly to theories that the advent of plow agriculture or animal
husbandry had something to do with the development of male domination.
But her discussion of the rise of patriarchy centers on theories of sudden
patriarchal invasions. Of course, patriarchy by conquest is only one model.
Others have described a gradual change in which male dominance builds
up within a society over time, but Eller has little to say about these.
The case Gerda Lerner made in The Creation of Patriarchy is barely
mentioned. Nothing in The Myth hints at the extensive discussion
of historical indicators of this shift in the last thirty years.
Eller’s summary of the kurgan invasions
narrative is miles removed from Gimbutas’ detailed analysis. She
asks where the invaders came from and, sarcastically: “How did they
carry out their nefarious mission?” [49] Stooping to conspiracy
theory, she proposes that ignoring questions of historical evidence, “fm’s”
picked the Ukrainian steppe because it’s large, within striking
distance of Europe and “the Near East,” and with a poorly
documented prehistory. Best of all is its sparse modern population “since
no one wants to come from the place where patriarchy began...” Whew.
(In the footnotes, we learn that Cold War demonization of the Russkies
was also at work.) The documentation Gimbutas assembled is nowhere in
sight. Neither is the fact that she did not set out to found a feminist
school (indeed did not even see herself as a feminist) but came to her
conclusions based on her work in eastern European archaeology —
including Ukraine.
Eller is critical of the assertion that early
neolithic sites were peaceful, but her discussion of weapons and fortifications
is extremely thin. She cites the presence of maces, but without comparative
data, or names of sites other than Catal Huyuk. Her discussion of the
Aegean is particularly disappointing. We’re offered one scholar's
speculation that Crete may have been “warlike,” but his evidence
has disappeared - - since all the alleged battles took place at sea! [Eller,
114] Surprisingly, Eller claims that “fm’s” minimize
the intensely patriarchal character of ancient Greece. However, her own
account blurs the distinctions between Cretan, Mycenean, Homeric and classical
Greek societies. [167-169]
There is, however, plenty of room for Eller’s
criticism of a chronic overemphasis on Europe and West Asia. [40] She
is unjustified in implying that this is true of all “fm’s,”
or that the problem is unique to feminists, who have also challenged Eurocentric
bias. The fixation on the so-called “West” comes from the
dominant Euro/American culture which continually broadcasts its own myths
in education, the arts and all media. Intellectual culture is awash in
this bias: the books published and the influential review magazines, the
over-representation of European subjects in the canon, and prestigious
web sites which equate "antiquity" or "the ancient world"
with the Mediterranean and the southwestern edge of Asia. 
There is no question that the nature of available sources
that openly address women's status has shaped the content of much feminist
analysis. Some have readily accepted these structural blinders, and ended
up reproducing the stereotypical spotlight on the Mediterranean. Eisler
acknowledges the problem of limited focus in The Chalice and the Blade,
but doesn't go beyond recommending that further study is needed in other
world regions. (However, she did inspire Chinese scholars to take her
up on it.) In turn, Eisler’s book became a primary source for many
women who had no other historical background. They elevated her examples
of Çatal Höyük, Malta and Crete as the primary models
of prehistoric female power. Thus it’s common to hear women extrapolating
from European and west Asian chronology to make declarations about “when
patriarchy started.” But there is no one chronology, as some of
us have been saying for decades, and a wide variation in degrees of patriarchy.
Sumatra and Niger and Ontario and Venezuela have their own constellations
of social custom and historical change.
A similar pattern has occurred in
response to the work of Marija Gimbutas, creating the impression that
once again, it's all about Europe. But to stop there is to give a very
incomplete picture of the range of feminist research going on. There is
an explosion of investigation into these questions globally. My own work
in the Suppressed Histories Archives has involved 35 years of research
on women in the archaeology, history and oral traditions of Africa, the
Americas, Europe, Asia, and the islands. There are many others, and not
only those named earlier in this article.
Amidst all the talk of bad scholarship, I was
surprised to see no examples of my pet peeve: writers who make uninformed
speculations about the derivation and relationships of ancient names.
I’ve seen some pretty strange linguistic comparisons over the years,
especially in some of the older feminist books: attributing “Abraham”
and “Brahma” to a common origin. [This is one of many incorrect
etymologies found in Barbara Walker’s Encyclopedia of Myths and
Secrets,1983], for example, or saying that “Kali” and “Cailleach”
are the same name, or even that “Cailleach” derives from “Kali.”
[Cailleach comes from the same root as the Latin pallium: a word meaning
“covering, mantle.” Kali is from an Indic root meaning “black.”
Irish and Indic are distantly related, but the two names have different
meanings and etymologies—even though both refer to unfettered goddesses
of the people, and the Cailleach is occasionally described as blue-black.]
Carelessness or indifference to historical and linguistic
evidence by some writers has been a problem, and just adds fuel to claims
that all feminist history is spurious. However, their inaccuracies should
not be used to automatically discredit all feminist researchers of these
issues. The fact that such smears are so easily believed is just as problematic.
All scholarship should be taken on its own merits.
(Continued) ............................................. NEXT ------>
Whose Interpretation?
T he Furor Over Gimbutas
Deconstructing "Matriarchal Myth"
Arguing About the Goddess
PoMo Prescriptions
© 2000 Max Dashu