1In the 19th century, travel literature played a pivotal role in shaping the perception of the Americas in western imagination. Under the impetus of New Imperialism and the colonizing ambitions of the state, the Ecuadorian Amazon was imagined through the “imperial eyes” of western travelers, usually affluent and influential individuals who embarked on the journey in order to establish trade relations, fulfill diplomatic missions, evangelize the natives, make ethnographic reports, or simply satisfy their desire for adventure. Regardless of their different motivations, they were typically engaged in an active process of inventing Amazonian peoples through the lenses of the ideologies of the time and place they inhabited. The aim of this article is to examine the discursive construction of the Sapara people of the Ecuadorian Amazon in the writings of travelers who explored the region in the second half of the 19th century. We focus mainly on how these writings reflect contemporary evolutionary thinking. We rely on three analytic tools, namely, rhematization, fractal recursivity, and erasure, taken from research into semiotic processes within the discursive construction of ethnic identities (Irvine and Gal 2019). By this means, we show that an axis of differentiation is produced along the dichotomy of “civilization” and “savagery.”
- 1 The term “Jivaro” has historically been used in Ecuador to refer to the linguistic and cultural en (...)
2Although travel literature constitutes a well-established field of study with a substantial body of research (Pratt 2008; Porter 2014; Das and Youngs 2019, etc.), the writings dealing with present-day Ecuador have received less attention. Research covers topics such as travelers’ motivations behind their passages through the Andes (Gómez-Rendón 2011; Chaves et al. 2020), travelers’ views on Ecuadorian history and nature (Judde 2011), and the portrayal of indigenous peoples for the fulfilment of national modernization projects (Muratorio 1994). Research dealing with the representation of Ecuadorian indigenous peoples focuses mainly on the highlands (Fitzell 1994; Muratorio 2012). Works devoted to the Amazon deal primarily with the representation of the ethnolinguistic ensemble Aénts Chicham, which comprises the Achuar, Shiwiar, and Shuar nationalities of Ecuador. These groups have enjoyed great prominence in both travelers’ accounts and academic literature, although they are often identified with the colonial and obsolete term “Jivaro”1 (Taylor 1994; Gómez-Rendón 2020). Against this backdrop, this article provides a glimpse into the representations of the Sapara in 19th-century travel writings, a prominent Ecuadorian indigenous group deeply impacted by colonization and renowned today for its environmental activism, as well as its Intangible Cultural Heritage (Andrade 2001; Márquez-Peña 2009; Vallejo, Cielo and García 2019).
3Certainly, this article concentrates on how travelers portrayed the Sapara during the 19th century. However, it is essential to acknowledge that this does not diminish the significance of Sapara historical memory from that era, nor does it render it insignificant. Indeed, many scholars have reflected on Sapara historical memory from an intra-group perspective and the relevance it has had for understanding the Amazon region at large and the complexities of the Sapara experience today (Reeve 1993; Bilhaut 2003). However, deconstructing 19th-century narratives remains pertinent, given that their ideological underpinnings have informed the ways in which indigenous populations have been perceived throughout Ecuadorian history and the inequities they face today.
4Authors have reflected on how historical images elaborated around indigenous peoples have endured in modern national imaginaries, perpetuating their perception as “savages,” “inferior,” “childish,” or “indolent” subjects fated to disappearing (Kingman Garcés 1998; Silva 2004). In fact, these ideological principles strongly influenced Ecuadorian cultural policy until the mid-20th century, which aimed to suppress indigenous cultural difference and promote assimilation into the Spanish-speaking mestizo society (Haboud 2019, p. 6). Additionally, colonial institutions and policies founded on these ideological principles have subjected a significant portion of the indigenous population to economic oppression and political marginalization (Gurría Gascón, Benitez Bastidas, and Hernández Carretero 2021). Over the past four decades, there has been a shift in paradigms regarding the revalorization of indigenous alterity, largely influenced by indigenous movements in the region and global environmental movements. Of course, colonial constructions of indigenous peoples continue to dominate the way they are perceived and how indigenous groups choose to self-represent today, although, interestingly, practices of indigenous (self-)representation have become conflated with idealized European imaginations of indigenous peoples, particularly in relation to notions of ecological nobility (Graham 2002; Raymond 2007).
5We begin by discussing the dichotomy between “civilization” and “savagery” prevalent in 19th-century thought. We then provide a brief description of Sapara society and linguistic practices, followed by the introduction of the corpus and Irvine and Gal’s theory of the production of cultural difference. The main section is divided into three subsections where the construction of the Sapara is analyzed through recurring themes in travelers’ narratives: lifestyle and working habits, gender relations and sexual practices, and the art of war and leisure.
6In the second half of the 19th century, Great Britain, the United States, and many western European nations experienced unprecedented economic growth and expanded their political dominance over vast portions of the globe. This period, known as “New Imperialism,” stemmed from the rise of a global industrial economy marked by a drive to access new markets abroad and secure a steady supply of raw materials and inexpensive labor. As a result, maintaining control over resources in overseas territories became imperative for powers to keep their economies on track. New Imperialism promoted economic and political control over non-western groups that differed in language, culture, and ethnicity, and was generally accompanied by policies of assimilation, such as linguistic homogenization or conversion to Christianity (Hamel 2006, p. 2241).
7A prevalent belief during this period was that western colonialism constituted a convincing proof of the supposedly “higher nature” of Europe’s “universal” civilization (Osterhammel 2014, p. 836). Civilization was perceived through a distinctly racial lens, inherited exclusively by the “advanced white races” (Bederman 1996, p. 25). Carl Linnaeus, a pivotal figure in this context, introduced a “scientific classification” of human “races” in 1758, further solidifying the notion of European superiority. His classification relied on physical and behavioral traits purportedly inherent to a group. In this way, white Europeans were described as “gentle, acute, inventive” and “governed by laws,” while native Americans were rather “obstinate, content, free” and “governed by customs” (Pratt 2008, p. 32).
8These ideas were deeply rooted in evolutionary thinking. Inspired by Hobbes’ description of human nature as bellum omnium contra omnes (2009, p. 74), Herbert Spencer developed a hierarchical understanding of human society leading to his notion of “survival of the fittest,” which later informed Darwin’s evolutionary theory and laid the foundations for Social Darwinism. Darwin’s On the Origin of Species (1859) ultimately popularized the evolutionary paradigm in science and the humanities. As academic fields like anthropology emerged, they began categorizing societies along a linear continuum of development, ranging from “simple” and “primitive” to “complex” and “developed” forms of cultural and linguistic expression. Lewis Henry Morgan’s (1877) model of social evolution, wherein all human societies progress through stages of “savagery,” “barbarism,” and “civilization,” exemplifies this approach.
9As Osterhammel observes, “civilization prevails where ‘barbarism’ or ‘savagery’ lie defeated; it needs its opposite to remain knowable as such” (2014, p. 826). Thus, the myth of European superiority was not self-evident, but depended on an antithesis to support its raison d’être. Its cultural antipode was embodied by the hunter-gatherer societies in Africa and the Americas. Beginning in the 16th century, the topography and the inhabitants of the Americas were not only “discovered” but also (re)invented, with the essence of the American people condensed into the notion of the “savage.” The figure of the American “savage” was certainly influenced by ideas that had been circulating since antiquity, like, for instance, the legendary figure of the Enkidu in the second millennium BCE, and that were integrated into European thought over the centuries, particularly during the Renaissance (Bartra 1992, p. 14).
10The 19th-century “savage” can be largely broken down into two categories: the “noble” and the “indomitable” “savage.” The former predominated in modern European thought, although “indomitable” aspects were addressed, for instance, in Hobbes’ and Spencer’s theories. However, after violent clashes between natives and colonizers during US westward expansion, and the interethnic tensions arising in the newly founded American republics, the figure of the dangerous and unconquerable “savage” gained predominance (Lindberg 2013, p. 23). According to this notion, the “natural state” in which “savages” allegedly lived was not at all “pure,” but, rather, barbaric and primitive: “savages” existed in a state of chaos as “children lost in the hands of the devil,” frightening westerners with their nakedness, violence, and cannibalism (ibid., p. 16). Among other things, the construction of native people as inferior and ruthless provided a scientific justification for European expansionism. Colonial campaigns were seen as a result of either European “natural superiority” or the “goodwill” to guide humanity along the path of progress. These ideologies also pervaded representations of 19th-century Amazonian inhabitants, to which we turn our attention in the upcoming sections.
- 2 The travel accounts cited in this article refer to the Sapara people as “Zaparos” or “Zaparros.” B (...)
11The Sapara2 are an Amazonian indigenous nationality of forest dwellers who fish, hunt, and practice shifting cultivation in subsistence economy. They inhabit the lowlands along the Pindoyacu and Conambo rivers in the Pastaza province, as well as along the Tigre river and its tributaries on both sides of the Ecuadorian-Peruvian border (Viatori 2007). Official figures indicate that around 770 people inhabit Sapara territory (Secretaría Técnica de la Circunscripción Territorial Especial Amazónica 2021). In 2001, their Oral and Cultural Manifestations were proclaimed as Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity by Unesco. Nowadays, disagreements with the government’s development policies and the presence of oil extraction companies in the region constitute some of the main challenges that the Sapara people face (Vallejo, Cielo and García 2019).
12Shortly after Ecuador gained independence in 1820, the Amazonian borders of the new republic remained undefined. Nevertheless, Ecuador asserted sovereignty over territories extending as far as Iquitos and the confluence of the Napo and Marañon rivers with the Amazonas, despite the area being largely uncolonized and outside state jurisdiction (Palmer 1997, p. 116). Although the region was initially regarded as hostile and inaccessible, perceptions of it began to shift in the mid-19th century when the state developed a geopolitical interest in the area. The region was soon seen as “salvación de la patria,” which would redeem Ecuador from its economic and political difficulties as a young republic (Esvertit-Cobes 2001). The national incorporation of the Oriente was accompanied by often ineffective state policies owing to insufficient funds and authorities’ unfamiliarity with the region. Policies were mainly based on the promotion of Catholic missions, the encouragement of colonization, and the construction of communication routes for resource extraction (Esvertit-Cobes 2005, p. 402). Although not conflict-free, religious missions were seen as the most efficient means for indigenous incorporation into the national economy. Despite initial reluctance, the Sapara were viewed as a labor force capable of assimilation (ibid., p. 420).
13In the mid-19th century, Osculati estimated that approximately 20,000 Sapara inhabited the region (Osculati 1854). However, the Sapara population experienced a severe decline owing to various factors, including disease, forced migration, intra- and interethnic conflicts, and enslavement during the rubber boom. Having a reputation of being more “docile” than other groups, the Sapara were constantly seized in raids and sent to die in work camps in Peru, Brazil, and Bolivia (Reeve 1993; Taylor 1994, p. 43; Wasserstrom and Bustamante 2015). During this period, they began to merge linguistically and culturally with other indigenous groups, driven by factors such as evangelization and the formation of matrimonial and political alliances. This process, as narrated in Sapara oral tradition, emerged as a strategic measure for ensuring their collective survival amidst catastrophic historical events, including the genocide caused by the rubber boom and deadly smallpox outbreaks in the region. Within Sapara narratives, these traumas are often framed as intragroup shamanic conflicts, claiming a significant toll on their population (Reeve 1993, p. 20-22). From these processes, the Sapara predominantly intermarried with Achuar or Quichua, gradually identifying as Runa. However, Sapara descendants continue to maintain a distinct ethnic identity, reinforced through the transmission of Sapara oral history and the preservation of specific knowledge in the Sapara language (ibid., p. 17). The main language of these intermarriage alliances was Kichwa, which is why nowadays Kichwa is the first language of most of the Sapara, while the Sapara language is severely endangered.
14Nineteenth-century travel writing in the Americas was deeply influenced by societal changes occurring in both Europe and the New World. Industrialization and imperialist competition not only encouraged scientific exploration but also became a necessity for imperial powers seeking to access resources abroad. Simultaneously, the independence of Latin American nations meant that previously guarded territories under Spanish and Portuguese colonial rule suddenly became open to exploration. Latin American elites were keen on establishing commercial ties with western powers to benefit their newly formed republics (Pratt 2008, p. 144).
15In this context, writers who passed through the American continent were members of “the capitalist vanguard,” i.e., voyagers sent “by companies of European investors as experts in search of exploitable resources, contacts, and contracts with local elites, information on potential ventures, labor conditions, transport, market potentials, and so forth” (Pratt 2008, p. 143). Imperial powers conceived of scientific travel as a source of “profitable knowledge” about natural resources or navigation routes, and the “degree of civilization” at the explored geographies (Chaves et al. 2020, p. 30). Likewise, Catholic missions were perceived as efficient means of acquiring sovereignty over disputed territories and assessing the assimilation potential of native peoples (Esvertit-Cobes 2001, p. 546). Undoubtedly, travelers were associated with the elites of their countries of origin and sought to construct the world in ways that would serve the interests of their homelands (Pratt 2008, p. 143).
16In this article, we analyze the accounts of voyagers who passed through the Ecuadorian Amazon in the 19th century and describe their encounters with the Sapara. Since we aim at insightfully analyzing travelers’ reports, we have selected those texts that offer at least a moderately extensive description of their encounters, which would provide us with sufficient material to be examined in the light of 19th-century ideologies about “civilization” and “savagery.”
17The Rapport sur les provinces de Canélos et Napo, adressé au consul de France dans l’État de l’Équateur was authored in 1838 by the French traveler Léonce Levrault and issued a year later by the Société de Géographie de Paris. Levrault visited the Amazonian region on account of the consul of France, in search of exploitable goldmines (Judde 2011, p. 41). His Rapport focuses on the description of natural resources of the area and their accessibility.
18The work Esplorazione delle regioni equatoriali lungo il Napo ed il fiume delle Amazzoni 1846-1848 (1854) by the Italian naturalist Gaetano Osculati provides detailed descriptions of the inhabitants on this fluvial route, including the most comprehensive account of the Sapara language at the time. His mission, logistically supported by the Ecuadorian president Vicente Ramón Roca, is clearly marked by a colonialist tinge, as he intended to follow the footsteps of Francisco de Orellana and travel up the Rio Napo to its confluence with the Amazonas (Osculati 1854, p. 90, 51; Surdich n.d.).
19With his Geografía del Ecuador (1858), the Ecuadorian intellectual Manuel Villavicencio attempted to make his home country known to the “most civilized nations of the world” (Larrea 1958, p. 341). The work is based on the expeditions assigned by President Roca with the aim of exploring a navigation route from the Napo to the Amazonas, and to evaluate the capacity of indigenous peoples to join the national economy (Hidalgo-Nistri 2020, p. 37). His Geografía, deemed by some as the first explicit attempt of the government to claim sovereignty over the Amazon, contains a detailed account of the Sapara and other groups (ibid.).
20The book The Andes and the Amazon (1870) by the naturalist James Orton is imbued with ideas from Darwin’s evolutionary theory (Vassar Historian n.d.), which contributed to the ideological fabric of US colonization in the region. In fact, Orton asserts that South America, “in view of so much competition among organized beings, is the spot to study Darwin’s ‘Origin of Species’” (1870, p. 39).
21The French explorer Charles Wiener is the author of “Amazone et Cordillières (1879-1882)” (1884a), which was financed by the French Ministry of Public Instruction and published in the travel magazine Le Tour du Monde in 1884 Wiener attempted to study “pre-Hispanic civilizations” through his explorations of communication routes between the Pacific and Atlantic oceans, signaling the entanglements between scientific and commercial interests (Judde 2011, p. 53).
22As the title indicates, the work Travels in the Wilds of Ecuador: And the Exploration of the Putumayo River (1886) by the affluent English explorer Alfred Simson was initially motivated by the exploration of trading routes in Colombia (Markham 1877, p. 44-45). He visited the Ecuadorian Amazon mainly “for pleasure” (Wylie 2013, p. 57). The mystical way in which Simson shapes his narrative reflects the 19th-century tendency to turn the traveler into a sort of “hero of his own story” (Gómez Rendón 2011, p. 20).
23Finally, we analyze the Voyage d’exploration d’un missionnaire dominicain chez les tribus sauvages de l’Equateur (1889) by the French Dominican friar François Pierre. Missionaries were central actors in the construction of the Amazon, particularly during the progressive period (1884-1895), when the Ecuadorian government sought to protect its eastern boundaries from Peru. The book reads almost as an adventure novel, with Pierre as a fearless hero who braves the dangers of living among wild animals and people. However, he describes the uses and customs of the local inhabitants in light of his evangelizing mission.
24In this article, we adopt the theoretical framework proposed by Irvine and Gal for the analysis of the enforcement of ideological reality (2000, 2019). The authors outline the semiotic process through which social difference is construed in discursive practices based on the notions of rhematization, fractal recursivity, erasure, and axis of differentiation.
25Rhematization refers to an ideological semiotic process in which a cultural characteristic is simultaneously taken as an index and an icon of inherent characteristics of a person or a group, so that their conduct “is understood as if its particular qualities iconically displayed some underlying social quality” (Irvine and Gal 2019, p. 39). Rhematization is at work, for example, when a language is taken as an index of membership in a national group, and at the same time as a depiction of its national character—when “slow” speech attributed to a given group is considered to emerge from “slow” thinking. Fractal recursivity stands for “the projection of an opposition, salient at some level of relationship, onto some other level” (2000, p. 38). This means that “the qualities in which the sets of objects contrast are drawn upon again, to differentiate subsets” (2019, p. 20). Finally, erasure refers to the process by which “whatever is inconsistent with the ideologized schema either goes unnoticed or is explained away” (ibid.).
26In the discursive construction of social groups, a set of ideological rhematizations, for example relating to different aspects of physical appearance or behavior, often solidifies into what Irvine and Gal (2019, p. 120) call an axis of differentiation, which can be described in terms of a master trope (e.g., male/female, civilized/savage, etc.). What emerges is a homogeneous and often simplistic picture of boundaries between social groups, which highlights some features while leaving out an entire set of elements to construct a coherent scheme.
27Applying Irvine and Gal’s framework to the realm of 19th-century travel literature on the Ecuadorian Amazon, we attempt to show in this section how rhematization, erasure, and fractal recursivity produce dichotomous cultural oppositions among the described subjects on different levels that form an axis of differentiation along the lines of “civilization” and “savagery.” Since identity is relational in character, representations of the Sapara largely emerge from contrast with other indigenous groups, mainly Kichwa-speaking evangelized Indians and the Aénts Chicham (“Jivaro”), as well as from implicit comparison with the travelers’ own cultural stance. We also aim at situating these identity constructions within 19th-century systems of knowledge production and explore their interconnections with claims to imperial power.
28To begin with, a dichotomy prevalent in most travelers’ accounts categorizes indigenous groups into “indios” or “cristianos” and “infieles” or “Aucas.” This distinction recursively projects the dichotomy of “civilization” vs. “savagery” that generally separates westerners from colonized peoples onto the Amazonian indigenous sphere. It can be found, for example, in Simson’s general descriptions of Amazonian inhabitants:
The Indians in the “Oriental Province” of Ecuador are […] divided into two great classes called “Indians” and “infidels” (Infieles, Aucas). The former all speak Quíchua, eat salt, and are semi-Christianised; whereas the later speak the many languages of their various tribes, do not eat salt […] and are not baptized. (Simson 1886, p. 151, see also p. 58; Muratorio 1994, p. 48-49)
29As he continues, the “Aucas”, for their part, fall into a broad variety of different groups, among them the Sapara. In this short paragraph, differences in religion, language, and eating habits form an axis of differentiation, which can be summed up under the master trope of “civilization” and “savagery.” Owing to their settlement around religious missions, adherence to the Catholic faith, as well as their cultural and linguistic uniformity (features that mirror the ideal of the culturally homogeneous, territoriality-based nation state), the cristianos were seen as being in a process of integration into “civilization”. Salt consumption was also common among Christianized Indians, as Jesuit missions controlled the trade and distribution of salt, a desired commodity in the colonial economy, and a means of gaining hegemony in the region (Reeve 1993, p. 125). On the opposite end of the spectrum, the infieles epitomized the figure of the “indomitable savage.” As we will argue in the following section, this binary distinction is recursively reproduced on different levels of identity discourse in order to separate the Sapara from other Amazonian peoples.
30The distinction between sedentism and nomadism is a key criterion defining cultural differences. For instance, Villavicencio highlights nomadism as a feature that distinguishes the “infieles” from the “cristianos,” including the Sapara and the “Jivaro” in the first category (Villavicencio 1858, p. 350; see also Levrault 1839, p. 65). Similarly, Simson and Orton commonly describe the Sapara as an essentially nomadic, gathering tribe with a poorly developed social fabric, suggesting that “the Zaparos are very disunited, and wander about in separate hordes” (Simson 1886, p. 172), or that “there is little social life among them” (Orton 1870, p. 171).
31The binary classification of “semi-civilized” sedentarians and “savage” nomads proves, however, to be more complex. Rather than being merely interpreted as different modes of social organization, they are taken as a reflection of moral and mental predispositions of Amazonian peoples, who either possess virtuous qualities like being hard-working or show moral defects like being sluggish. This rhematization process, by which features that index barbarism are taken as icons of inner qualities, was common among travelers, who frequently referred to the idleness of the inhabitants of the Americas as a main defining trait. For instance, the notion of the hard-working “Jivaro” in opposition to other indigenous groups is often deployed to perpetuate the stereotype of indigenous lethargy. This is the case of Simson, who in his pass through Canelos complains about the difficulties he had in procuring food for the men in his expedition:
[…] I had much trouble, during eight days’ stay, in providing sufficient provisions for thirty men. Only those who have experienced the scant resources of these small Indian settlements can fully realize this, for most Indians, with the exception probably only of the Jivaros, scarcely ever produce more than is sufficient for their barest subsistence; and their apathy and improvidence is such that, even for this, supplies frequently fall short. Thus, any extra mouths to be fed find the greatest difficulty in procuring food of any description. (Simson 1886, p. 99-100)
32Simson attributes the scarcity of food not only to the natives’ “apathy” but also to their perceived inability to anticipate future needs, which he believes accounts for the absence of crops and agricultural techniques among indigenous peoples. These observations resonate with the evolutionary theories of the time. Anthropologist Henry Lewis Morgan, for example, posited that agriculture and the ability to produce food on a large scale were driving forces behind the evolution of human societies toward “civilization” (1877, p. 19; see also 540).
33In this line of reasoning, the Sapara are recurrently described as passive subjects, with little propensity to work, which is generally taken as a cause of their lifestyle as hunter-gatherers and their perceived deficient production of crops. For instance, Levrault states that the Sarayacu people, who have more contact with White people and speak the Kichwa language, produce goods of a higher quality and are “less lazy” in comparison to the Sapara (1839, p. 70-71). Likewise, Villavicencio, when introducing the Sapara in his Geografía, sees their loose working habits and scarce production as a central characteristic, by comparison with the “Jivaro”:
Entre el Záparo i el Jívaro hay tantas diferencias en el modo de vida, que es conveniente anotarlas. Los Záparos por lo regular son perezosos, motivo por el cual solo algunas tribus tienen pequeños sembríos de maíz, plátano i yuca; pues los mas se mantienen de la cacería, pesca i frutas silvestres. Por un efecto de la gradación del calor […] los frutos en los bosques orientales maduran progresivamente, empezando desde el Marañon hasta las faldas de la cordillera […] los Záparos siguen esta misma marcha, ya por las frutas, ya por la cacería, lo que los hace formar unas tribus casi nómades […] Esto solo lo distingue del Jíbaro notablemente, pues este tiene residencia fija, cultiva la tierra con esmero formando grandes huertas […] ádemas gran cantidad de cerdos, con los que hace grande comercio en canelos, macas i algunos pueblos del Amazonas; […] El Jívaro es constante en el trabajo, pues siempre se le encuentra ocupado en alguna labor. (Villavicencio 1858, p. 172)
- 3 “They spend most of their time lying in their hammocks in complete immobility” (authors’ translati (...)
34Despite both groups falling within the less “civilized” category of “infieles,” the Sapara are consistently depicted in a negative light owing to their perceived “lazy nature,” which is believed to have contributed to their nomadic lifestyle. In contrast, the “industrious nature” of the “Jivaro” is credited with enabling them to achieve a higher degree of “civilization.” Osculati reproduces this vision by assuring that after hunting and gathering enough meat for a few months, the Sapara “passano la più parte del tempo sdraiati nelle loro amache nella immobilità più completa”3 (1854, p. 172; Figure 1; see also Levrault 1839, p. 66). During colonial expansion, the perceived notion of indigenous peoples as lacking agriculture went hand in hand with ideas of native peoples as “prisoners of unreflexive, bodily desires which they could not control or satisfy” (Lattas 1987, p. 43). In this way, for the explorers, the perceived immobility of the Sapara mirrors an inferior estate of existence, non-compliant with Europeans’ intentions of colonizing the Amazon for the exploitation of labor and nature. Erasure is at play here, since European reports of unspoiled nature heavily contrast with the deep-rooted agricultural practices on which Amazonian societies depended (Clement et al. 2015).
Fig. 1 – Malacca or cabin of the Sapara savages. Abijkiras along the Napo
(Osculati 1854, p. Tav.xiii)
35Additionally, notions of commerce and “civilization” were closely linked in 19th-century thought. The idea of free trade was avidly venerated, and even seen as a “civilizing” force capable of equalizing humankind (Tenorio-Trillo 1996, p. 5). The motif of overproduction for commerce is present in Pierre’s accounts, in which he recursively compares the hard-working “Jivaro” to the passive Sapara:
Quant aux Jivaros de Capahuari et de l’Uchual ils y viennent apporter leurs produits, le goudron de Sandi et les sarbacanes qu’ils échangent contre les tambours de nos Canélos. Le Zaparos, lui, ne produit rien; c’est l’être le plus oisif, le plus imprévoyant, et j’ajoute le plus inconstant qu’il y ait au monde. (Pierre 1889, p. 221)
36In this line of thinking, the overproduction of crops and artifacts by the “Jivaro” has led them to establish commercial relations, providing them access to the “civilizing” force of trade. In contrast, the perceived absence of farming among the Sapara is seen as an index of idleness, resulting in their limited participation in commercial activities and reflecting a lower state of progress. This discursive construction is achieved also by erasure, since commercial relations were persistent between the Sapara and other indigenous groups. The Sapara exchanged smoked meat, feather ornaments, baskets, hammocks, and even captured children for agricultural tools with surrounding tribes and colonizers in the Napo region (Santos-Granero 1994, p. 15-16). Erasure also explains Levrault’s astonishment at the discovery of handicraft, especially clothes made from the llanchama plant, among the Sapara (1839, p. 66).
37Despite the pervasive notion of indigenous indolence, a closer examination of these narratives reveals that these accusations were at odds with the crude servitude that travelers witnessed during their journeys. As Pratt asserts: “the human infrastructure required by their own travels required armies of muleteers and peons, not to mention the famed Andean silleros who carried Europeans across the Cordillera on their backs” (2008, p. 150; compare also references to indigenous load carriers in Levrault 1839, p. 69 and Pierre 1889, p. 13, 18, 271, etc.). The lack of communication routes and the fractured geography rendered the journey through Ecuador almost impossible, a reason why travelers had no reservations about riding on the backs of the original settlers on their journeys. However, these aspects of indigenous labor were often erased from narratives, accentuating the dichotomy of the “idle savage” in opposition to the heroic “civilized” traveler.
38Ultimately, depicting the Ecuadorian Amazon as inhabited by unproductive individuals served as a justification for the imperialist ambitions of travelers: “Ideologically, the vanguard’s task is to reinvent America as backward and neglected, to encode its non-capitalist landscapes and societies as manifestly in need of the rationalized exploitation the Europeans bring” (Pratt 2008, p. 148-149). Therefore, unproductivity is portrayed as a defining characteristic of the Sapara, serving as evidence of their supposed “savagery” and reinforcing the notion that the Amazonian territory would be better managed under European control.
39In the 19th century, notions of gender and “civilization” were closely intertwined, since proximity to European ideals of “perfect manliness and womanliness” were taken as an indicator of a society’s level of cultural refinement (Bederman 1996, p. 25). European gender ideals implied that “civilized women were exempt from heavy labor and ensconced in the home” while “civilized men provided for their families and steadfastly protected their delicate women and children from the rigors of the workaday world” (ibid., p. 27). As indigenous division of labor sharply contrasts with European gender roles, Pierre denounces this difference as a barbaric expression of natural law, stating that “chez ces peuples barbares où il n’y a d’autre droit que la force, le sexe faible est né pour servir, le sexe fort pour régner” (1889, p. 50). With special reference to the Sapara, Simson remarks that “of course all the hardest work is done by the women” (1886, p. 173), indicating that this deviant behavior could be naturally expected.
40In the description of gender relations, Sapara marital practices are a main topic of discussion: “In their matrimonial relations, the Zaparos are, as in the practice of all their customs, very loose – monogamy, polyandry, polygyny, and promiscuity all apparently existing among them at the same time” (Simson 1886, p. 173). In contemporary thought, “savage” men were often perceived as lacking “a man’s ability to restrain their passions” (Bederman 1996, p. 25). The perceived dominance of instincts over rationality provided the framework through which writers sought to explain the nature of “savage” social structures, leading to instant judgments of indigenous marital practices as irrational (Povinelli 1994, p. 127). In Simson’s passage, the coexistence of multiple forms of sexual relationships, as well their volatility, are rhematized as indicative of the absence of sexual norms and moral restrictions among the Sapara, which leads them to live in a state of chaos.
41Further, in an epoch in which evolutionary models permeated all thinking, marital practices were also arranged in an evolutionary order by which European models of monogamous relationships represented the “glorious end-product of man’s whole social, sexual, and moral evolution from savagery to civilization,” while other forms were seen as “surviving remnants of worn-out cultural patterns that had long been superseded” (Fee 1973, p. 24). In this sense, Wiener observes that the Sapara “pratiquent la polygamie et ne montrent de tendresse ni pour leurs femmes, ni pour leurs enfants ; la nature se manifeste là dans son expression vierge, c’est-à-dire égoïste” (1884a, p. 264). Thus, loose marital practices are portrayed as emblematic of Sapara culture, indicative of their perceived moral inferiority, governed by the hostile and merciless laws of nature.
42In the frame of gender relations, the description of the sexual practices of indigenous peoples often served to build up the notion of an inferior moral compass of “savages” in contrast to Europeans. For instance, Osculati describes a Sapara celebration in which, driven by lack of control and drunkenness, Sapara men and women engage in sexual activity with each other:
- 4 “The women retreated under the canopy and threw themselves into hammocks. Only one, who was advanc (...)
[…] Le donne si ritirarono sotto la tettoia e si gettarono nelle amache. Una sola, che era avanzata nella gravidanza, non partecipava al festino, e se ne slava sdraiala nuda in una amaca appesa a due alberi. Diedero allora principio gli uomini ad un ballo veramente grottesco. Si strinsero l’un l’altro strettamente pel collo formando un cerchio, indi così atteggiali fecero una specie di galoppe, saltando e cantando: Come ti chiami, ben mio? Qual è il tuo nome? Tourou-touth, Tourou-toutù, rispondevano le donne ad ogni stanza, facendo scoppiettare la lingua e battendo le mani. Seguirono altri balli affatto selvaggi, con urla e fischi, che credo inutile il più oltre riferire.4 (Osculati 1854, p. 174)
43Since uncontrolled sexuality was associated with “savagery,” it is not surprising that Osculati defined the sexual practices of the Sapara as unrestrained and lascivious. Indeed, in contemporary thought, there was the notion that the suppression of sexual instincts represented humanity’s victory over nature as brute passions struggled with rationality. Similarly, the sexual freedom displayed by the Sapara and the lack of feminine modesty exemplified by the pregnant woman lying naked on the hammock serve as clear indicators of the supposedly inferior moral sensibility of the “savages” compared to the “civilized” European observer. Thus, Osculati, offended by the spectacle he is witnessing, defines it as “grotesque” and “useless to recount further.”
44Finally, European regimes of patriarchal control of female sexuality, ultimately related to property rights (Lansdown 2006, p. 69), seem to have shaped travelers’ perceptions and evaluations of gendered behavior and marital relationships in the Ecuadorian Amazon. In this realm, the sexual freedom of Sapara women is contrasted with practices of sexual control among the “Jivaro”:
Se pondera el jenio celoso de los Jívaros, pues las mugeres nunca están en las habitaciones donde suelen visitarse los hombres, sino en un aposento mas interior: si algún huésped imprudente vuelve la vista […] al momento se le advierte que hace mal en mirar ese lado que es de las mugeres. Los Záparos son en esta parte muy diferentes; pues parece que hacen poco caso de las mugeres i permiten al viajero juguetearse i aun sentarse en la misma hamaca con una ó mas. (Villavicencio 1858, p. 365)
45In this excerpt, the jealous temperament of the “Jivaro” regarding their wives and the indifference of the Sapara toward them are portrayed as indicators of the cultural refinement of these two societies. As Fee observes, in 19th-century thought, the model of the patriarchal family was not considered a natural condition of humankind, but rather the product of evolution and a form of social organization that had developed among “civilized” peoples (1973, p. 31). The lack of jealousy depicts the “savage” nature of Sapara marital ties, while the “Jivaro” jealous control conforms well to European patriarchal values. This is just another example of how an opposition used to distinguish “civilization” from “savagery” is recursively applied to the cultural landscape of Ecuadorian Amazon.
46Nineteenth-century voyagers recurrently highlight indigenous people’s physical strength and ability for war (Levrault 1839, p. 59; Simson 1886, p. 166-167; Pierre 1889, p. 142). For instance, in the eyes of travelers, the Sapara possess incomparable skills in the use of the spear that are so unique to their culture that they even surpass the abilities of the “Jivaro” (Villavicencio 1858, p. 171). Wiener narrates a simulated spear fight he witnessed between the Sapara of Sinchi-Chicta and the Sapara of Curaray (Figure 2; see also Pierre 1889, p. 142-143):
Je ne me rappelle pas avoir assisté à un spectacle plus émouvant et aussi superbement sauvage. Ces hommes nus, souples comme des serpents, agiles comme des singes, doués d’une force peu commune, sont passés maîtres dans les jeux athlétiques. Rangés en deux lignes de bataille dont les ailes se rapprochent, ils lancent les lourdes hampes, aux pointes non bouchonnées, avec une dextérité et une puissance remarquables. Parfois, vingt, trente javelots s’entrecroisent en l’air. Des cris d’enthousiasme ou de colère accompagnent cet exercice des Spartiates sud-américains. (Wiener 1884a, p. 261-262)
47In this passage, the naked body of the “savage,” together with its resemblance to snakes and monkeys, is rhematized as an icon of the Sapara primitive nature and state of bestiality. Similarly, Pierre alternatively compares indigenous peoples to lions, tigers, feline predators, cats, dogs, greyhounds, vultures, starlings, hawks, monkeys, amphibians, snakes, and fish, among others. Historically, animality has been crucial for constructing socio-cultural difference and hierarchy in western cultures and informing evolutionary theories about race (Anderson 2000, p. 4). “Savages” were commonly seen as living evidence of an “early man” who, like an animal, was “stuck” in a natural state (ibid.). This led to the portrayal of indigenous peoples, especially men, as a sort of beast, situating them on the lower stages of the evolutionary scale and depriving them of their humanity.
Fig. 2 – Combat simulation between two Sapara tribes
(Wiener 1884b, p. 65)
48The idea of the “early man” is, for instance, strongly present in Orton’s narrative, in which he interpreted his observations through the lenses of Darwinian evolutionism. In an encounter with the Sapara, whom he also describes as “the lowest class of Indians” in the Americas, the author speculates that they may represent a past evolutionary state of humankind:
One’s mind hurries back over past centuries, and then asks, could our progenitors have been men like these? – men whose very signs and expressions are less intelligible to us than those of the domesticated animals; men who do not possess the instinct of those animals, nor yet appear to boast of human reason, or, at least, of arts consequent on that reason. (Orton 1870, p. 221)
49Informed by evolutionary thought, 19th-century imagination divided human nature between the “physical animal” and the “cultural-moral” human (Anderson 2000, p. 11). Animality resided in “a stimulus-response condition, a state of being lacking reason, agency, history, communicative status, and cultural life,” and was considered inferior to the “cultural-moral” aspect capable of overcoming primitive instincts (ibid.). Orton situates the Sapara between the animal and the human, both in an historical-evolutionary (as progenitors of civilized humans) and a descriptive sense (as lacking certain human characteristics). In this ideological construction, the distinction between animality and humanity is recursively applied on different levels of differentiation: just as the Sapara, and other indigenous people, act as “animals” among men, domesticated animals appear to be the “humans” of the animal realm. Interestingly, the latter are presented as being closer to “civilization” than the former. The dichotomy between an “animal-like” native and the “fully human” traveler constitutes another strategy through which the “savagery” and “civilization” axis of differentiation is reimprinted in the European imagination.
50Another aspect through which the Sapara are constructed in basic opposition to western people is through the cultural practice of alcohol consumption:
Les femmes circulent sans crainte autour des jouteurs [sic] et leur offrent des coupes remplies de masato. Bientôt l’ivresse alcoolique s’ajoutant à l’ivresse du plaisir et du jeu, les cris deviennent des hurlements, l’enthousiasme devient de la rage. Le jeu va dégénérer en massacre. Alors les femmes se jettent à travers la mêlée et séparent leurs compagnons. Cette journée fut une vraie fête ; aussi ne finit-elle qu’avec la nuit dans une orgie complète, et, hélas ! dans le sang. Le corps d’un des Zaparros tués gisait le lendemain sur la plage, et ses amis, sans émotion, le jetèrent à l’eau. (Wiener 1884a, p. 262)
- 5 Although in the Amazonian region chicha is mainly made of fermented manioc, in other regions the b (...)
- 6 Chakra is a Kichwa term that refers to an indigenous agricultural production system, generally man (...)
51The consumption of “chicha” or “masato,” a fermented drink generally made out of maize in the highlands or manioc in the Amazon region, is a common cultural practice among many South American indigenous groups, and a staple in the daily diet of Amazonian indigenous communities.5 Far from being an act of uncontrolled debauchery, intoxication with chicha had and continues to have significant meanings. Authors have shown how chicha consumption has been historically related to the delineation and symbolic representation of social hierarchies; as well as forging political alliances and solidarity between households (Weismantel 1991; Bilhaut 2004, p. 88). Furthermore, intoxication with chicha has been intertwined with agricultural and religious rituals, governed by strict rules and imbued with spiritual meaning (Weimantel 1991; Alzate 2006, p. 164,167). Because of its highly nourishing benefits, it helps indigenous peoples preserve strength in physically demanding daily activities, such as working in the chakra6 (Bilhaut 2004, p. 87). Indigenous languages even had different denominations for different kinds of beverages and degrees of intoxication. However, this complexity was commonly erased from the narratives of European travelers, who often reduced all cultural practices related to chicha consumption to mere “drunkenness,” reinforcing the perceived “degeneration” of Amazonian Indians (Alzate 2006, p. 163).
52In his passage, Wiener describes solely a scenario of uncontrolled drunkenness, framing chicha consumption as a morally reprehensible act as it leads to a loss of reason and control. The description, according to which the cheerfulness of the ritual turns into rage and ultimately homicide, clearly illustrates common western beliefs which regard alcohol as a source of vice and evil. Intoxication together with the Sapara’s indifference toward their deceased fellow are seen as indicators of the alleged bestial and insensitive nature of “savages.”
53With or without chicha, according to Simson, the Sapara are particularly keen on committing physical violence without reason: “One of the most prominent traits of this remarkable people is their tendency to, and marked enjoyment in, the destruction of life. They are always ready and willing to kill, be it animals or human beings, and delight in such occupation” (1886, p. 170-171). The pleasure that the Sapara take from the massacre of animals and humans is posed as an index of the evil nature of “savages.” Here resonates the Hobbesian notion of a correlation between benevolence and “civilization” and malevolence and “savagery.” The Sapara’s alleged readiness to kill presents them as a constant danger to Europeans, highlighting the heroism of European travelers who venture into the rainforest.
54The Sapara’s alleged ferocity is also evoked in descriptions of colonization attempts in the Amazon. For instance, Villavicencio reports that the Sapara were used by missionaries to track down and subjugate rebellious fractions of evangelized Indians, owing to their feared cruelty and arbitrary commitment of “asesinatos, incendios i estupros” (1858, p. 376). Simson describes the Sapara’s attitude towards these events as follows:
An invitation to follow and track out Napo Indians, who may have to be searched for by the authorities or missionaries (from whom they themselves, however, accept no authority) […] is accepted by the Zaparos with a sort of grim and pleasurable anticipation, a manifestation of the mind so difficult to produce and rare to witness in any Indian (1886, p. 171).
55Again, the abuse of force in the form of murder and rape is posed as an index of the Sapara’s irrational and evil nature. Although they do not generally accept the missionaries’ authority, they are all too willing to follow their orders when the opportunity arises to commit violence. This violence distinguishes them from Christianized Indians, so that the Sapara are once again recursively constructed as the most “savage” group among Amazonian inhabitants. It should be noted that while the western observers denounce the cruel practices of the Sapara, they fail to convey that it is the European or mestizo population who mandate and benefit from such acts. Through this instance of erasure, the authors distance themselves from Sapara “savagery” and preserve their image as rational and benevolent travelers.
56In this article, we explored how 19th-century travelers constructed cultural difference between the human societies they described during their passage through the Ecuadorian Amazon, with special reference to the Sapara. Beyond being mere ethnographical descriptions, these accounts reflect ideological work: through the processes of rhematization, erasure, and fractal recursivity, they construct stereotyped images of human societies and place them within an evolutionary hierarchy, where “civilization” and “savagery” represent the two ends of the spectrum.
57As we have argued, nomadism, loose working habits, non-traditional division of labor, polygamy, intoxication, and the propensity to physical violence are used as emblems of “savagery.” Through rhematization, they are taken to be indicative of negative moral and intellectual qualities, such as idleness, irrationality, and inability to control the baser human instincts. In contrast, sedentariness, commercial relationships, traditional western gender roles, monogamy, sobriety, and the renunciation of violence function as signs of “civilization” and denote ethically superior behavior.
58The contexts in which the observed indigenous practices occur, the meanings that are ascribed to those who perform them, and the social norms they are embedded in are largely eclipsed in the descriptions. Likewise, contradictory facts within the general dichotomy of “savagery” and “civilization” – such as the existence of trade and cultural exchange within the Amazon, or the abuse of power by western colonizers – are erased in the construction of ethnic identity. The authors ultimately produce internally consistent but largely homogenizing and simplistic categories of ethnic identity, although they presume to describe the reality and nature of their observed subjects in a reliable and truthful way.
59Further, the authors use recursivity to situate human societies on a scale between “savagery” and “civilization” in line with 19th-century evolutionary paradigms. While the social norms and ethical values of western culture represent the pole of “civilization”, American indigenous societies deviate from this ideal to different degrees. Within Amazonian societies, the semi-sedentary Aénts Chicham (“Jivaro”) is presented as more “civilized” than the Sapara, who occupy the lowest position in the hierarchy. In a pattern of fractal recursivity, the same criteria are applied on different levels of abstraction as icons of “civilization” or “savagery”: western people are presented as having a superior work ethic to indigenous people, but within this group, the Aénts Chicham are better situated in comparison to the Sapara. With the only exception of Pierre, the Sapara are constantly positioned as the incarnation of the wicked, cruel, and mindless “savage,” an antithesis of what the authors claimed themselves to be.
60Through consistent reference to evolutionary theory, the leading scientific paradigm of the time, as a “narrative of rhematization” (Irvine and Gal 2019, p. 125), the authors make their identity constructions appear as indisputable and universal. This ultimately served the interests of imperial powers in their international struggle for territory and resources abroad: the representation of Amazonian inhabitants in travel accounts supported the expansion of the global capitalist economy and the growing imperialist competition between European powers. Thus, travel literature became intricately intertwined with an imperialist ideology, where the traveler assumed the role of the “civilized” protagonist, juxtaposed against the invented “savagery” of indigenous inhabitants. This dichotomy has affected the lives of indigenous people in Ecuador to this day, and has been one of the main ideological foundations against which they have organized in their historical struggle for equality.