Singh's articulate and thought-provoking attempt to provide a framework for understanding the cultural evolution of shamanism presents a valuable contribution to the literature to explain a seeming oddity of human behavior. Although agreeing with many of his points, we believe the overall proposal falls short, because it does not adequately outline the evolutionary conditions and selection pressures for shamanism and the social and cultural control mechanisms which feed into them. To support claims that shamanism is an adaptation to the human cognitive machinery, cost-benefit ratios need to be discussed; Singh pays little attention to the varied costs versus benefits of shamanistic practices for shamans, their clients, and the groups that they serve.
Humans are unique in their capacity to develop cumulative culture, namely, to invent new tools (or new ways of using old tools) and achieve desirable outcomes. These innovations get incorporated progressively into a population's stock of skills and knowledge, generating ever more sophisticated repertoires (Dean et al. Reference Dean, Vale, Laland, Flynn and Kendal2013; Pagel Reference Pagel2012). This capacity is widely recognized as one of the most important contributors to our remarkable success as a species (Henrich Reference Henrich2015; Legare & Nielsen Reference Legare and Nielsen2015). Most of us don't invent, however. Indeed, cumulative culture works because it is built around our capacity for high-fidelity copying that ensures behaviors that have proven valuable and successful are handed down from generation to generation.
High-fidelity cultural transmission and cumulation rely on our social drive toward in-group conformity. Once behavior is normative, and no compelling reasons for changing it exist, group-normative behaviors are transmitted faithfully across generations (consider the continued use of QWERTY keyboards). In Singh's analysis, this critical aspect of human cultural evolution is given short shrift. As Singh suggests, shamanism may have arisen partly to provide an avenue of control over the environment, but shamans may remain because they help maintain community integration and cohesion. By this reasoning, if shamans are replaced, it is because a stronger mechanism of in-group integration has arisen, not necessarily because of a more reliable means of controlling the environment. The social aspect of cumulative culture is pivotal and is something Singh misses entirely.
Singh defines shamanism as “a suite of practices … that adapts to people's intuitions to convince observers that a practitioner can influence otherwise uncontrollable events” (sect. 1, para. 7) and contrasts this with technological developments – the assumption being that, unlike the former, the latter are tested and refined. Furthermore, Singh suggests shamanistic practices are “effective-seeming” in that they are, “by definition, ineffective” (sect. 3.2, para. 2). In so doing, Singh tacitly categorizes potential effects of shamanistic practices into cognitive effects (i.e., appealing to people's intuitions to convince others) and environmental effects (i.e., control of events such as illnesses and weather events). By sleight of definitional hand, he delimits all shamanistic practices as possessing cognitive effects but lacking in environmental effects. Certainly, cultural practices engaged in by shamans may be grounded on some cognitive machineries (see Sperber & Hirschfeld's [Reference Sperber and Hirschfeld2004] discussion of folk biology and folk sociology). Nonetheless, this division into cognitive and environmental effects overlooks the significance of social integrative effects of shamanistic practices.
Clark and Kashima (Reference Clark and Kashima2007) suggested that shared cultural stereotypes are maintained partly because communicators believe the stereotypes have social integrative effects; they believe they can affiliate with communication partners by telling stories conforming to shared stereotypes. Similarly, Kleinman and Sung (Reference Kleinman and Sung1979) suggest that tâng-ki's shamanistic practices in Taiwan have behavioural and social gains in their treatments of health problems. In addition to “curing” individuals who believe in shamans, the ritualistic mutilations performed by tâng-ki (Chan Reference Chan2009) activate empathy reactions and function as social signals of group commitment, which increase social bonding of individuals attending the ritual (cf. Fischer & Xygalatas Reference Fischer and Xygalatas2014; Xygalatas et al. Reference Xygalatas, Mitkidis, Fischer, Reddish, Skewes, Geertz, Roepstorff and Bulbulia2013). At the very least, those suffering from mental illnesses, along with the communities surrounding them, appear to perceive benefits of shamanistic practices as Singh noted (sect. 2, para. 2), which in turn may have real social benefits. These socially shared perceptions and experiences cannot be dismissed simply as mere perceived effectiveness of shamanistic practices.
Another aspect of the cost-benefit analysis that Singh misses is the potential importance of the cost per se as a significant factor maintaining shamanistic practices. Shamanistic features are costly; their relevance needs to be shown and carefully calibrated for practitioners to avoid being exorcised, discriminated, or excluded from groups (Power Reference Power2017). Returning to tâng-ki, shamans are more likely to experience hallucinations, which is likely to lead to social stigma and exclusion (Cohen Reference Cohen2001). Yet, to the extent that these experiences can be channelled into culturally appropriate forms supporting and maintaining in-group norms, these individuals assume important social positions. Singh largely dismisses costly signalling (Bulbulia & Sosis Reference Bulbulia and Sosis2011) as an explanation of shamans' transformation. We maintain that behaviors that are costly to individuals are likely to bring benefits to actors only if they are consistent with group norms.
If we are to better understand the widespread prevalence of shamanism, we need to better understand the associated costs and benefits that drive cultural selection of the phenomenon within an evolutionary framework. If changing social conditions decrease the need or effectiveness of shamans, what are the changed selection pressures for shamans and their clients? Figure 1 stops short of addressing this important issue, and section 6 sidesteps it.
To paraphrase Bennett Galef, we build cathedrals and walk on the moon while chimpanzees, our closest living animal relatives, continue to sit naked in the rain. This is largely because of our capacity for the retention of critical skills, the invention of new ones, and the capacity to pass both on from generation to generation. Embedded in this process are our dual needs to predict what will happen in our environment and to affiliate with those in our in-group. These capacities and needs combine to give us iPhones … and shamans. Singh takes some steps toward this conclusion. We would like to see him take some more.
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Singh's articulate and thought-provoking attempt to provide a framework for understanding the cultural evolution of shamanism presents a valuable contribution to the literature to explain a seeming oddity of human behavior. Although agreeing with many of his points, we believe the overall proposal falls short, because it does not adequately outline the evolutionary conditions and selection pressures for shamanism and the social and cultural control mechanisms which feed into them. To support claims that shamanism is an adaptation to the human cognitive machinery, cost-benefit ratios need to be discussed; Singh pays little attention to the varied costs versus benefits of shamanistic practices for shamans, their clients, and the groups that they serve.
Humans are unique in their capacity to develop cumulative culture, namely, to invent new tools (or new ways of using old tools) and achieve desirable outcomes. These innovations get incorporated progressively into a population's stock of skills and knowledge, generating ever more sophisticated repertoires (Dean et al. Reference Dean, Vale, Laland, Flynn and Kendal2013; Pagel Reference Pagel2012). This capacity is widely recognized as one of the most important contributors to our remarkable success as a species (Henrich Reference Henrich2015; Legare & Nielsen Reference Legare and Nielsen2015). Most of us don't invent, however. Indeed, cumulative culture works because it is built around our capacity for high-fidelity copying that ensures behaviors that have proven valuable and successful are handed down from generation to generation.
High-fidelity cultural transmission and cumulation rely on our social drive toward in-group conformity. Once behavior is normative, and no compelling reasons for changing it exist, group-normative behaviors are transmitted faithfully across generations (consider the continued use of QWERTY keyboards). In Singh's analysis, this critical aspect of human cultural evolution is given short shrift. As Singh suggests, shamanism may have arisen partly to provide an avenue of control over the environment, but shamans may remain because they help maintain community integration and cohesion. By this reasoning, if shamans are replaced, it is because a stronger mechanism of in-group integration has arisen, not necessarily because of a more reliable means of controlling the environment. The social aspect of cumulative culture is pivotal and is something Singh misses entirely.
Singh defines shamanism as “a suite of practices … that adapts to people's intuitions to convince observers that a practitioner can influence otherwise uncontrollable events” (sect. 1, para. 7) and contrasts this with technological developments – the assumption being that, unlike the former, the latter are tested and refined. Furthermore, Singh suggests shamanistic practices are “effective-seeming” in that they are, “by definition, ineffective” (sect. 3.2, para. 2). In so doing, Singh tacitly categorizes potential effects of shamanistic practices into cognitive effects (i.e., appealing to people's intuitions to convince others) and environmental effects (i.e., control of events such as illnesses and weather events). By sleight of definitional hand, he delimits all shamanistic practices as possessing cognitive effects but lacking in environmental effects. Certainly, cultural practices engaged in by shamans may be grounded on some cognitive machineries (see Sperber & Hirschfeld's [Reference Sperber and Hirschfeld2004] discussion of folk biology and folk sociology). Nonetheless, this division into cognitive and environmental effects overlooks the significance of social integrative effects of shamanistic practices.
Clark and Kashima (Reference Clark and Kashima2007) suggested that shared cultural stereotypes are maintained partly because communicators believe the stereotypes have social integrative effects; they believe they can affiliate with communication partners by telling stories conforming to shared stereotypes. Similarly, Kleinman and Sung (Reference Kleinman and Sung1979) suggest that tâng-ki's shamanistic practices in Taiwan have behavioural and social gains in their treatments of health problems. In addition to “curing” individuals who believe in shamans, the ritualistic mutilations performed by tâng-ki (Chan Reference Chan2009) activate empathy reactions and function as social signals of group commitment, which increase social bonding of individuals attending the ritual (cf. Fischer & Xygalatas Reference Fischer and Xygalatas2014; Xygalatas et al. Reference Xygalatas, Mitkidis, Fischer, Reddish, Skewes, Geertz, Roepstorff and Bulbulia2013). At the very least, those suffering from mental illnesses, along with the communities surrounding them, appear to perceive benefits of shamanistic practices as Singh noted (sect. 2, para. 2), which in turn may have real social benefits. These socially shared perceptions and experiences cannot be dismissed simply as mere perceived effectiveness of shamanistic practices.
Another aspect of the cost-benefit analysis that Singh misses is the potential importance of the cost per se as a significant factor maintaining shamanistic practices. Shamanistic features are costly; their relevance needs to be shown and carefully calibrated for practitioners to avoid being exorcised, discriminated, or excluded from groups (Power Reference Power2017). Returning to tâng-ki, shamans are more likely to experience hallucinations, which is likely to lead to social stigma and exclusion (Cohen Reference Cohen2001). Yet, to the extent that these experiences can be channelled into culturally appropriate forms supporting and maintaining in-group norms, these individuals assume important social positions. Singh largely dismisses costly signalling (Bulbulia & Sosis Reference Bulbulia and Sosis2011) as an explanation of shamans' transformation. We maintain that behaviors that are costly to individuals are likely to bring benefits to actors only if they are consistent with group norms.
If we are to better understand the widespread prevalence of shamanism, we need to better understand the associated costs and benefits that drive cultural selection of the phenomenon within an evolutionary framework. If changing social conditions decrease the need or effectiveness of shamans, what are the changed selection pressures for shamans and their clients? Figure 1 stops short of addressing this important issue, and section 6 sidesteps it.
To paraphrase Bennett Galef, we build cathedrals and walk on the moon while chimpanzees, our closest living animal relatives, continue to sit naked in the rain. This is largely because of our capacity for the retention of critical skills, the invention of new ones, and the capacity to pass both on from generation to generation. Embedded in this process are our dual needs to predict what will happen in our environment and to affiliate with those in our in-group. These capacities and needs combine to give us iPhones … and shamans. Singh takes some steps toward this conclusion. We would like to see him take some more.