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Fun With Barney and Raquel
Creationists go to considerable lengths to point out what they say
are flaws in evolutionary accounts of how life began; they remain
dissuaded by a growing mountain of geological and paleontological
evidence, everything from fossils to the strata record of the earth
itself. Defenders of evolution dismissed the creationists as cranks and
intellectual ne’er-do-wells, but that has turned out to be a serious
mistake. Indeed, creationist groups like ANSWERS IN GENESIS
have become vocal and well-organized, and creationist spokespersons
have mastered the art of debate, often embarrassing their better
educated, professional academic opponents. There are creationist
meetings, publications and even museums. The creationist agenda
has also been linked to other issues, and religious right groups now
include the teaching of creationism as a non-negotiable demand, along
with school prayer, banning gays from classrooms and boot camps,
and “protecting the unborn” fetus. The result of that activism is
situations like Kansas, where creationists have won a significant
victory.
Which brings me to Barney and Raquel...
You see, most forms of creationism -- along with requiring a “young
earth -- also claim that human beings and dinosaurs shared the earth
together at some point in the not-too-distant past. Even Hollywood
had the good sense to get at least some of this right, when it cast
Raquel Welch in a skimpy role in ONE MILLIONS YEARS B.C. back in
1967. Ray Harryhausen, who spent decades in Tinseltown creating
special effect monsters and flying saucers through stop-motion
animation, provided a prehistoric stable of dinosaurs who chased after
scantily-clad cave girls. It was thoroughly entertaining, yet
outrageously unbelievable. Would cave women really have had
bouffant hair, glistening white teeth, and the martial skills to do battle
with a belligerent T-Rex? Was there any evidence that dinosaurs and
human beings shared the planet at the same time? Probably not...

We seem preoccupied with extinction and creation themes, from ecological catastrophe, cloning and fertility and the Biblical stories of our origin, to the possibility that an enormous asteroid or some other cosmic body could strike earth and that humanity, too, could go the way of the dinosaur. |
Creationists do, in fact, argue that confrontations between bands of
human beings -- sans the Hollywood starlets -- and dinosaurs likely
took place, and that certainly people coexisted in some regions with
these enormous creatures. There is the discovery of the so called
“giant man tracks” in the limestone beds of the Paluxy River near Glen
Rose, Texas. Even some creationists now grudgingly admit that
evidence in support of the “tracks” is tenuous, and the Paluxy and
other sites were likely caused by erosion, carving, or the human
imagination working on indistinct markings.
But perhaps the five members of the Kansas Board of Education who
consider creationist accounts to be sufficiently robust and worthy of
academic study should, after seeing a late night re-run on ONE
MILLION YEARS B.C. -- preferably with some commentary by Joe Bob
Briggs -- also meditate on the cave paintings at Lascaux and
elsewhere. Discovered in 1940, Lascaux is an underground cave in
southwestern France which is perhaps the most elaborate presentation
of Paleolithic art. “Mainstream” science informs us that Stone Age
artists from 17,000 years ago, using ladders, scaffolding, paints and
tools decorated the enormous chambers with over 1500 engravings
and 600 paintings in shades of black, yellow, red and brown. They
depict a bevy of animals including horses, bulls, deer and ibex and
even a now-extinct species of wild ox.
But nowhere at Lascaux -- or at any other similar Paleolithic sites --
are their representations of dinosaurs, especially dinosaurs being
hunted by bands of human beings. There certainly isn’t anything
resembling a Ray Harryhausen story board with the likes of Raquel
Welch spearing an ichthyosaur for dinner, or some helpless fellow
being squashed by a brachiosaurus out for an evening stroll in the
swamps.
While their remains are millions of years old, dinosaurs are, in a
sense, a modern invention. The Hollywood imagination has often
departed from the more sober historical record -- witness Raquel and
other cave denizens on the celluloid screen -- and a complex process
of semiotic coding has provided us with a slew of images that fit these
enormous beasts into the modern setting.
Ironically, creationists take up an intellectually indefensibly position
arguing the Biblical account of human origins and endeavor to snip
away at the edges of this growing body of evidence and knowledge
about human origins. There is a lot about dinosaurs we simply do not
know about -- scientists even argue over whether they were hot or
cold blooded (the consensus favors the latter). Did they “flock” and
nest like birds? What colors were their skins? We suspect that
Barney’s purple exterior takes liberties with the truth, but at this point
we can’t know for sure how accurate the “living reconstructions” are in
many museums. Horn-billed dinosaurs may have evinced haunting
sounds only now being duplicated by computers.
None of this uncertainty has prevented us from transforming these
extinct creatures into logos, symbols and totems of modern culture.
W.J.T. Mitchell explores this in his latest work, THE LAST DINOSAUR
BOOK (University of Chicago Press, 1998), a delightful romp through
some of the sociology and cultural history of these puzzling creatures.
“For animals that have been dead millions of years, dinosaurs are
extraordinarily pervasive in everyday lives.” Mitchell points to the
profusion of ads, books, novels, movies, toys, television programs and
other graphic representations of these “terrible lizards.” At some point,
like the creationists, we depart from the science behind the dinosaurs
in search of something else -- their symbolic meaning as icons of
creation, power and extinction.
Mitchell, a professor in the Department of Art History at University of
Chicago, musters considerable evidence that we live in a time of virtual
dino-mania. The dinosaur appears as a symbol nearly everywhere,
selling hamburgers or gasoline (remember the Sinclair Oil dinosaur?),
to entertaining youngsters. Godzilla, a variant of the “terrible lizard,”
terrorized Japanese theaters at the height of the cold war when images
of nuclear holocaust lingered pervasively in the post-Hiroshima
consciousness. And these enormous creatures turn out to be pliable,
adaptable icons; some represent “family values” in their nesting
behaviors in Jurassic Park, while others tap into the modern angst over
issues such as cloning. Mitchell also sees the dinosaur as “a massive
eating machine” which “provides a spectacle of rapacious
consumption” -- not altogether inappropriate with the Dow now over
10,000.
The rampant pop-culture fixation with dinosaurs, especially among
youngsters, may be a poignant synchronicity with other issues
exploding on the cultural landscape. Children, of course, are legally
enthralled to the parental and institutional constraints of simply
growing up; it should be natural that dinosaurs, those indestructible
titans who simply cannot be controlled whether in Hollywood or Tokyo,
become representations of the ultimate freedom. Parents are fixated
on controlling their dino-children, and turn to Dr. Laura, James Dobson
or “tough love” strategies when all else fails. Even Bill Clinton plays
surrogate parent, assuring us that the V-chip or censored internet
content can rein-in defiant juveniles. And what of these dinosaurs
running amok in our streets? They become symbols of things out of
control and time itself, nature out of balance, our lives in havoc.
So, we tame these enormous beasts, at least symbolically. The oil
conglomerates remind us that these creatures died so we may drive;
McDonalds suggests that even an extinct fossil cannot resist the lure
of a Big Mac. They become enlisted in morality plays like KING KONG,
or they are tamed to the point of absurdity, their plated hides
becoming soft and fuzzy in BARNEY & FRIENDS.
But the dinosaur’s notoriety and status as a popular icon interplays
with the culture war divide over issues like creationism and the status
of human beings. Creationists see history as young, a mere six
millennia or so according to the prescription laid down by Archbishop
James Ussher, author of the famous 1650 chonricle ANNALES VETERIS
TESTAMENTI A PRIMA MUNDI ORIGINE DEDUCTI, (“The Annals of the
Old Testament, Deduced from the First Origin of the World”). It was
Ussher, Anglican Primate of All Ireland, who after laboriously tracing
the chronology of descendants from Adam in the Old Testament,
pronounced the moment of divine creation at 4004 B.C., noon on
October 23. Four millennia thus separate that creation from Annus
Mirabilis, the alleged birth of Jesus, and using the notion of “ages,” a
believer in such a temporal tapestry would conclude that the world
shall end at exactly 6000 Annus Mundi, the new millennium.
All of this, then, becomes a larger tale about creation and extinction:
and what better symbol of extinction that those “terrible lizards” that
once walked the earth? They were the “lords of creation” of their time,
become extinct despite their awesome power and presence; is there a
parallel here with the human condition? We might wonder. It may be
no accident, then, that at the cusp of a new millennium, our culture
seems to embrace the dinosaur, this ambivalent symbol of extinction.
We seem preoccupied with extinction and creation themes, from
ecological catastrophe, cloning and fertility and the Biblical stories of
our origin, to the possibility that an enormous asteroid or some other
cosmic body could strike earth and that humanity, too, could go the
way of the dinosaur. This is a secular Armageddon (along with killer
viruses, nuclear war, political upheaval), but there is also an
abundance of religious prophecy which modern doomsdayers believe is
coming to fruition, as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse bolt the
church corral to run amok through the global metropolis of
Enlightenment culture at the end of the twentieth century. The
evening news is, for many, confirmation that the prophecy d’jour is
certain to be true; subjects like the Anti-Christ, Final Judgment and
Armageddon no longer are safely confined to the supermarket tabloids,
rantings in mental wards and tent revivalist meetings, but have spilled
over into the mainstream magazines and television networks.
All of this may account for why creationism, this belief in a literalist
Biblical account of human origins, refuses to retire into the cabinet of
historical curiosities along with flat earth theories or trumpet meeting
spiritualism. As many as forty percent of Americans are receptive to
creationist ideology according to the Gallup survey, which may explain
the 5-4 vote of the Kansas Board of Education. Indeed, school boards
across the country are bedeviled with the clamor that we open the
classroom doors to “other theories,” a not-so-subtle code for Old
Testament creationism.
There may be a creationist explanation for why, at Lascaux and
elsewhere, there are no representations of people interacting with
dinosaurs. More so than the questionable footprints at Paluxy, such a
depiction would certainly turn modern paleontology upside down, and
suggest that a “young earth” compressed historical timetable was
likely, or that there were serious and profound flaws in evolutionary
accounts. But like the celluloid offerings of Hollywood, or the more
prosaic depictions of the “terrible lizard” on oil cans or in ads for the
Discovery Channel, the claim that humans and dinosaurs shared the
same time and geography on earth remains an illusory tale, one rooted
more in doctrinal belief than demonstrable fact. So again, the
dinosaur -- a creature which existed for millions of years, and became
extinct only to be discovered in the nineteenth century -- assumes a
Janus-like role, reminding us of the ambiguities of origins, and the
pervasive inevitability of extinction.
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© 1996, 1997, 1998, 1999, 2000 by American Atheists.
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