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Cargo Cults
In the final scenes of the film Mondo
Cane, Gualtiero Jacopetti’s original “shockumentary,” we see eager Papua
New Guinea islanders clustered around a huge, roughly-made model of an
airplane. They are high up in the mountains, sitting on a new airstrip they
carved out of the forest. Their eyes search the skies, so the film tells us,
for airplanes full of wonderful “cargo” that they expect will soon arrive. But
they are destined to be disappointed. No planes will land. These islanders are
the misguided followers of a cargo cult.
Anthropologists, journalists, and
others have used the term cargo cult since 1945 to describe various South
Pacific social movements. Cargo cults blossomed in the postwar 1940s and 1950s
throughout the Melanesian archipelagoes of the southwest Pacific. People turned
to religious ritual (which was sometimes traditional, and sometimes innovative)
in order to obtain “cargo.” The term cargo (or kago in Melanesian Pidgin
English) is rich in meaning. Sometimes cargo meant money or various sorts of
manufactured goods (vehicles, packaged foods, refrigerators, guns, tools, and
the like). And sometimes, metaphorically, cargo represented the search for a
new moral order which often involved an assertion of local sovereignty and the
withdrawal of colonial rulers. In either case, people expected and worked for a
sudden, miraculous transformation in their lives. Cargo cult prophets commonly
drew on Christian millenarianism, sometimes conflating the arrival of cargo
with Christ’s second coming and Judgment Day (locally often called “Last Day”).
Among the most notable cargo cults are the John Frum and Nagriamel movements of
Vanuatu, the Christian Fellowship Church of the Solomon Islands, and the Paliau
and Yali movements, Hahalis Welfare Society, Pomio Kivung, and Peli Association
of Papua New Guinea.
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The Cargo Cult Label
The term “cargo cult” first appeared
in a 1945 issue of the colonial news magazine Pacific Islands Monthly.
That year, a disgruntled Australian resident of Papua New Guinea wrote to warn
against outbreaks of cargo cult should the government dare to liberalize its
native affairs policies. Anthropologists and others quickly adopted the term to
label almost any sort of organized village-based social movement with religious
and political aspirations. Before the war, observers had occasionally used the
term “Vailala Madness,” borrowed from anthropologist F. E. William’s early
analysis of a 1920s movement that had excited people around Vailala, Papua New
Guinea (Williams 1923).
Although an improvement over Vailala
Madness, “cargo cult” also is problematic in several ways. People involved in
such movements always aspired to many things beyond simple material goods. And
the organizations of these movements were ill-described by the word “cult.”
Moreover, people within the Pacific and beyond also quickly adopted the term as
a form of political abuse: politicians today may belittle the plans and
aspirations of their rivals by labeling these as “cargo cultist.”
Despite the popularization of cargo
cult as a label for South Pacific movements, from the beginning anthropologists
sought out alternative terms. These included nativistic movements,
revitalization movements, messianic movements, millenarian movements, crisis
cults, Holy Spirit movements, protonationalist movements, culture-contact
movements, and the like. These broader labels appreciated cargo cult’s
affinities with social movements elsewhere that also appeared to be sparked by
the global spread of the colonialist and capitalist systems. Cargo Cults, thus,
were in significant ways similar to the North American Ghost Dance, or China’s
Boxer Rebellion, or the Mau Mau of East Africa. “Cargo Cult,” nonetheless,
remains as the now standard label for the South Pacific version of global
millenarian movements.
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Cargo Belief
The defining aspect of cargo cult
beliefs, or ideology, was of course cargo itself. Cultists, supposedly, strove
for the arrival of planes and ships full of cargo: manufactured goods and
tinned foods, vehicles, weapons, and money. However, lists of desired cargo, as
reported, reflected both Pacific aspirations and European presumptions of what
islanders should want. Refrigerators, for example, occupied a suspiciously
prominent place in many such reported cargo lists.
Details of cargo ideology varied
from movement to movement. Common themes, however, included the belief that the
ancestors were somehow involved in the production of manufactured goods. In
some places, people believed that a technologically-wise ancestor long ago had
sailed away to America, or Europe, or Australia to teach the secrets of cargo
to people there. In others, cargo myth presumed that Europeans had stolen
industrial knowledge from Pacific ancestors, or were stealing cargo itself that
ancestors were shipping back to the islands. In either case, people invented
new rituals to induce the dead to provide cargo and, sometimes, to come back to
life and return home with cargo-filled ships and planes.
After the Pacific War, the American
military occasionally came to take on the role of cargo provider. Many
Melanesians, particularly those recruited to work at Allied bases on Efate and
Espiritu Santo in the New Hebrides (Vanuatu), Guadalcanal in the Solomon
Islands, and Manus, Hollandia, and elsewhere in New Guinea, received better pay
and obtained a variety of new wartime goods and services. After the militaries
withdrew from most of the southwest Pacific in 1946, money and goods became
scarcer. John Frum supporters on Tanna (Vanuatu), began predicting the return
of the American military and the cargo that they had enjoyed as labor corps
recruits. John Frum leaders also incorporated their experience of military
routines and symbols into cult ritual and liturgy, including drill team
marching, bamboo rifles, red crosses (from army ambulances), khaki uniforms,
and US flags.
Many movements, in addition to material
goods, also pursued various sorts of world-transformation. This, too, partly
reflected political conditions at the end of the Pacific War. The Japanese
advance had dislodged the Dutch and the Australians from much of New Guinea
along with the British from the Solomon Islands. Large American occupation
forces similarly weakened colonial authority in the New Hebrides and, to a
degree, in New Caledonia and Fiji. At war’s end, in all these countries, the
colonial powers moved to reestablish their authority in island hinterlands. Not
surprising, people who had largely governed themselves during the war resisted
this reassertion of European control. Cargo cult prophets predicted that
ancestors, or returning Americans, would drive the colonial powers from the
region. Cults were, as Jean Guiart argued, “forerunners of Melanesian
nationalism” (1951).
In addition to articulating people’s
desires for freedom, dignity, and independence from European domination, some
cult prophets predicted more millenarian sorts of change. Mountains would
flatten and valleys would rise up. Land would become sea, and the seas become
land. People expected the coming of a new world, with remade people, and many
cult rituals included elements of rebirth, or baptism, to mark the creation of
a new order. Two very common prophesies were that the dead would come back to
life, and that the skins of the faithful would turn white. The first of these
prophecies reflected the importance of ancestors in traditional religion and
their connections with fertility and production. The second responded to the
stark racial inequalities of colonialist regimes where Europeans controlled
access to money, goods, and education.
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Cargo Organization
Orality rather than literacy
continues to characterize much of Melanesia. People communicate by talking. All
sorts of rumor and speculation flow from village to village<M>some of
this about mysterious sightings, dreams of the future, or statements of
prophesy. Only some of these stories attract much public attention, however.
Anthropologists have attempted to figure why cargo movements occurred in one
village while bypassing another. Two important factors were the degree of
people’s sense of “relative deprivation”<M>how unhappy they are with
their lives<M>and the absence of a strong, local power structure. Where
village leaders were in firm control of a village or clan (whether these
leaders were chiefs or what, in Melanesian Pidgin, are called “big-men”), they
usually could deflect cargo cult enthusiasm and stifle the local spread of a
movement.
Cargo “prophets” foretold the return
of ancestors and typically explained what people must do in order to obtain
cargo, instigating, for example, novel sorts of dance and other ritual. Some
cargo movements revived traditional ceremonies that European missionaries and
officials had devalued. Others focused on a ritual miming of European practices
and styles, including dinner tables, dress, and literacy. Cargo prophets
instructed people to drill and march. They and the faithful cleared new
airfields and built makeshift cargo warehouses. Prophets advised followers that
the ancestors required new offerings of food, or flowers, or money to be left
in graveyards before cargo will arrive. They demanded that people dig up their crops,
kill their animals, and discard all European money in order to open the gate to
the cargo road. Sometimes they commanded the abolition of marriage and incest
prohibition, and people engaged in unrestrained sexuality. Elsewhere, they
forbade sex entirely as ritually necessary to ensure cargo’s arrival.
Prophetic messages of all sorts, in
fact, are not unusual in Melanesia. Most people, even though today largely
Christian, continue to sense the presence of ancestral ghosts. It is common for
men and women to receive knowledge and information from ancestors<M>and
also from God and the Holy Spirit<M>in their dreams. Those whose messages
were accepted became leaders of the movements that formed around them. It was
also common that other men, who organized and distributed prophetic messages,
might assume control of a movement. Women have also been cargo prophets
although men typically appropriated and broadcast the messages that women
received in dreams or otherwise.
In much of Melanesia, knowledge
remains a politically-valued resource. Men achieve a personal reputation and
also political status by having good knowledge of family genealogy, history,
personal and place names, ritual procedures, curing, and divination. Knowledge
of cargo has similar political weight. Prophets<M>or those who controlled
their messages<M>organized large, regional movements of thousands of
people who desired to learn the secrets of cargo. Cargo prophesies have united
people<M>at least temporarily<M>into large organizations that conjoin
villages and kin groups from across a region. These movements were much larger
than traditional Melanesian social groups. Cult ideology, typically, focused on
social cooperation and standardization. Prophets and leaders worked to get
everyone involved in cult ritual, e.g., mass dances and marches to invite
ancestral arrival, or ritual procedures to wash and bless money to promote its
reproduction. They also often preached against socially divisive practices of
sorcery and other threats to group unity. The lack of movement solidarity
served sometimes to excuse the failure of prophecy. Cargo does not arrive
because followers have not fully observed the ancestors’ commands.
The history of most cargo cults was
short. Followers would often abandon a prophet and his movement when cargo
failed to arrive, or the world did not transform. Some leaders, however, have
successfully institutionalized their movements. John Frum on Tanna, for
example, which began in the late 1930s, sixty years later is managed by third-generation
leaders, and has elected members to Vanuatu’s national parliament. Other cargo
cults have similarly been institutionalized as political parties, or new
religions, or both. The Peli Association and Pomio Kivung in Papua New Guinea
are successful political organizations at the local level. The Christian
Fellowship Church continues today on New Georgia, Solomon Islands, as a
syncretic church.
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Cargo Cults and Melanesian Culture
Cargo belief and cult organization
reflect enduring, fundamental patterns in Melanesian cultures. Everywhere, the
exchange of goods and wealth objects is an important aspect of creating and
maintaining social relationships. People give one another garden produce, pigs,
mats and baskets, traditional shell and contemporary money, and other valuables
to celebrate births and marriages, and to mourn deaths. Moreover, men and women
earn social reputation and political influence through generous giving. Cultic
focus on wealth, thus, elaborated traditional concern with the political
management of economic production and exchange. And, because people believe
that ancestral powers ensure the fertility of people, gardens, and pigs, it
made sense to turn to ancestors also to acquire money or shotguns or tinned
peaches. Cargo cult rituals were similar to traditional ceremonies that ensure
ancestral benevolence.
Islanders also continue to believe
that ancestors speak to them in dreams, providing important knowledge, hints of
the future, and instruction for proper living. Ancestral messages about the
arrival of cargo ships and planes were similar to other sorts of spiritual
communication. Furthermore, Lawrence (1964) and others have suggested that
Melanesian structures of time and social transformation are “episodic” rather
than developmental. People presume that sudden transformations are normal; that
one cosmic order at any moment may replace another. Prophecies of cargo’s
arrival, the return of the dead, and the emergence of a new world are more
compelling where people do not believe that the future must develop
incrementally over time from the present.
Finally, cultic organization<M>a society of believers who follow
cult prophets and leaders<M>resembled ordinary social organization in much
of Melanesia where big-men attract followers by managing the exchange of goods
and information. Cargo prophets, along these lines, were just another sort of
traditional island leader.
If cargo cults are a Pacific version
of millenarian movements that erupt everywhere in times of uncertainty and
change, then these aspects of Melanesian culture help explain the particular
organizational form of cults and the details of cargo belief. More than this,
some have suggested that cargo culting is an indigenous Melanesian form of
politicking that predates colonial interference in the region. If this is the
case, cargo cults may not quiet down and ultimately disappear as the era of
colonialism passes into that of postcolonialism.
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Cargo Cult Futures
Cargo cults may continue to erupt,
or they may prove to have been a twentieth-century reaction to colonial
inequalities and the disruptions of world war. The most successful movements,
however, will certainly survive into the twenty-first century, now
institutionalized as political parties and churches in Vanuatu, Solomon
Islands, and Papua New Guinea. Beginning in the 1980s, fundamentalist Christian
missions based in Australia, New Zealand, and the United States strengthened
their presence in the Pacific. Influenced by this Christian millenarianism,
many islanders have become involved in Holy Spirit movements. In these, cargo
expectations are muted. Instead, people seek to be possessed by the Holy Spirit
to bring about the transformation of self, society, and world. Typically, these
movements also undertake campaigns against sorcery, cleansing villages of
hidden sorcery paraphernalia believed to be causing illness, death, and
disorder. Holy Spirit prophets predict the Last Day<M>the return not so
much of cargo but of Christ<M>and the impending establishment of a new
cosmos.
Whatever happens to cargo cults
themselves in the Pacific, the label “cargo cult” is now widely
applied<M>and not just in Melanesia. Any fervid desire today for wealth
or goods that people pursue with apparently irrational means can be condemned
as cargo cultic. As people everywhere are absorbed into a global, capitalist
order where economic inequalities persist, and even deepen, it may be that
cargo culting will indeed spread beyond Melanesia. As we learn to desire goods
that are impossible to obtain, we may turn in despair to our gods and prophets.
Insofar as that global order limits our freedom and dignity, we may join with
others in organized protest. We, too, may be searching the skies for our cargo.
Lamont
Lindstrom
See
also John Frum Movement
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Further Reading
Burridge,
K. (1960). Mambu: A study of Melanesian cargo movements and their social and
ideological background. London: Methuen.
Burridge,
K. (1960). New heaven, new earth: A study of Millenarian activities. New
York: Schocken Books.
Cochrane,
G. (1970). Big men and cargo cults. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Guiart,
J. (1951). Forerunners of Melanesian nationalism. Oceania, 22,
81<N>90.
Lattas,
A. (1998). Cultures of secrecy: Reinventing race in Bush Kaliai cargo cults.
Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
Lawrence,
P. (1964). Road belong cargo: A study of the cargo movement in the southern
Madang District, New Guinea. Manchester, U.K.: Manchester University Press.
Lindstrom,
L. (1993). Cargo cult: Strange stories of desire from Melanesia and beyond.
Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press.
Lindstrom,
L. (1996). Cargo inventories, shopping lists, and desire. In W. Haviland &
R. Gordon (Eds.), Talking about people: Readings in contemporary cultural
anthropology (2nd ed., pp. 25<N>39). Mountain View, CA: Mayfield
Publishing.
Maher,
R. (1961). New men of Papua: A study of culture change. Madison:
University of Wisconsin Press.
McDowell,
N. (1988). A note on cargo cults and cultural constructions of change. Pacific
Studies, 11, 121<N>134.
Mead,
M. (1966). New lives for old: Cultural transformation<M>Manus,
1928<N>1953. New York: Morrow.
Rimoldi,
M. (1992). Hahalis and the labour of love: A social movement on Buka Island.
Oxford, U.K.: Berg.
Steinbauer,
F. (1979). Melanesian cargo cults: New salvation movements in the South
Pacific. St. Lucia, Australia: University of Queensland Press.
Trompf,
G. W. (1990). Cargo cults and millenarian movements: Transoceanic
comparisons of new religious movements. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter.
Whitehouse,
Harvey. (1995). Inside the Cult: Religious Innovation and Transmission in
Papua New Guinea. New York: Oxford University Press.
Williams,
F. E. (1923). The Vailala madness and the destruction of native ceremonies
in the Gulf Division. (Anthropology Report no. 4). Port Moresby, Territory
of Papua.
Worsley, P. (1957). The trumpet shall sound: A study of “cargo” cults in Melanesia. London: Macgibbon & Kee.