From an anthropological point of view, the whole concept of a "path of progress" in astronomical discovery is anathema, since it implicitly downgrades other cultural perspectives, such as the many "indigenous cosmologies" that still exist in the modern world. By doing so, one risks provoking those who hold them and-as is most obvious in places such as Hawaii where the two "world-views" come into direct contact-reating avoidable resistance to that very progress. The problem is complicated by the existence of "fringe" and "new-age" views that are increasingly confused with, and even passed off as, indigenous perceptions. In a modern world where widespread public perceptions include many that are unscientific in the broadest sense of the term, I shall argue that there are actually a range of positive benefits for progress in scientific astronomy to be derived from the mutual awareness and comprehension of "genuine" cultural world-views whose goals-in common with those of modern science-are to make sense of the cosmos within which people live. While two-way education is clearly a prerequisite, I shall argue that the necessary level of reconciliation can only be achieved through more fundamental attempts by modern astronomers to understand, and ultimately to respect, both the non-Western frameworks of thought that give rise to other cultural perspectives and the heritage associated with them. One of the most obvious potential benefits could derive from common attitudes towards the natural heritage of astronomy, namely dark skies.
How is the progress of modern astronomical research influenced by wider perceptions of astronomy, and of science in general? An obvious answer is that public perceptions affect political expediency, and consequently influence levels of support (both governmental and private) and in particular funding priorities. An awareness of such issues is clear in the IAU's new strategic initiative 'Astronomy for the developing world' [1], one of whose aims is to help enable developing nations to contribute to cutting-edge scientific research. The IAU's Strategic Plan rightly emphasises the inspirational role of astronomy in facilitating education and capacity building as well as furthering sustainable development, and rightly stresses the importance of education and outreach. It is also true (as the Strategic Plan states) that astronomy "embodies a unique combination of science, technology and culture [and] continues to play an important role in modern society". However, in the context of many peoples of the world, and particularly within developing nations, the 'astronomy' that continues to play an important cultural role-in the sense of perceptions of the sky and its importance for the functioning of society-is not modern scientific or (for want of a better term) 'Western' astronomy. In such contexts, there are innate hurdles on the path towards even the acceptance, let alone better comprehension and contribution to the advancement, of modern scientific astronomy. One of the prerequisites is that 'Western' astronomers attempting to communicate 'their' astronomy must acknowledge and respect the importance of these indigenous astronomies; and greater respect can only come from a greater degree of comprehension.
This paper concerns indigenous perceptions of astronomy and attempts to address, in broad terms, how best to establish productive communication, mutual respect and understanding across the barrier or ‘divide’ that exists between the mindsets of Western scientists and traditional peoples in many developing countries regarding astronomy. I shall go on to argue that, having done this, we can begin to appreciate a range of potential benefits for progress in scientific astronomy that can be derived from the mutual awareness and comprehension of ‘genuine’ cultural world-views whose goals-in common with those of modern science-are to make sense of the cosmos within which people live, even though they may be embedded within cultural practices that are completely different.
To ‘Western’ sensibilities, the traditional calendar of the Mursi-a small group of pastoralists and cattle herders still living in almost complete isolation in the Omo valley of south-western Ethiopia until the 1960s [2,3]-seems haphazard in the extreme, perhaps almost laughable. When asked, everyone including children can recite a chant counting off the months and relating the seasonal activities associated with each month, such as sorghum planting or the coming of the big rains. However, in practice nobody actually knows for certain what month it is at any given time, believing this to be the preserve of ’experts’ who, when one tries, can never quite be run to ground. In reality there is always disagreement. This inherent disagreement is not removed at the first appearance of the waxing crescent moon, marking the beginning of a new month, since each school of opinion simply increments their previous estimate. But nor it is resolved when, for example, the big rains come, since everyone knows that the big rains are sometimes early or late: this seasonal event (along with many others) merely serves to shift the balance of opinion. The issue of intercalation-the need to insert an additional month or miss out a whole month from time to time in order to keep the lunar month count in step with the seasons-never arises: it is simply irrelevant, since continual observations of phenomena of nature, such as the flowering of plants or the appearance of birds, lead to continual adjustments.
Preposterous as this ‘institutionalized disagreement’ may seem as a calendrical regulator from a scientific point of view, from anthropological perspective the Mursi calendar can be recognized as not only self-consistent but completely fit for purpose in the cultural context within which it operates. It is also worthy of our respect as an elegant solution to a set of specific problems of managing time and organizing subsistence activities.
But the Mursi calendar also has a much broader significance. It overturns nearly every assumption that is commonly made (or implicitly assumed) by historians of astronomy, as well as many archaeoastronomers, about the way in which early ‘pre-scientific’ calendars inevitably developed (e.g. [4]). The tendency is to try to define a ‘path of progress’ starting with simple counts of lunar synodic cycles, proceeding to luni-solar calendars that adjust the month count so as keep track of the seasonal year (for example by observing stellar hel
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