Before Columbus - Part One: First Contact

Though schoolchildren used to be taught that Christopher Columbus had to convince the Catholic Monarchs of Spain that the Earth is actually round and not flat, and thus could be circumnavigated by a westward voyage across the Atlantic, we know this to be a myth. In fact, it had been known since antiquity that the Earth is spherical and that it was theoretically possible to sail west to reach the east. However, Columbus did indeed have his work cut out for him to convince the monarchs to finance his voyages, for it remained to be understood how long such a voyage might take and whether or not there may be some islands or continents blocking his path. Certainly there were legends of islands out there, the phantom and mythical islands of Antillia, Hy-Brasil, St. Brendan’s Island, and Frisland. Some suggest that Columbus had actually gathered intelligence about the lands beyond the seas before pitching his voyages to European monarchs. According to Bartolomé de las Casas, Columbus had firsthand knowledge of these lands, having sailed to the equally mythical northern land of Ultima Thule in 1477, which voyage some have argued took him past Greenland to somewhere on the North American coast near where the Norse had established their Vinland colony. In truth, the only record of this supposed early voyage of Columbus’s is a marginal note by de las Casas, which may have referred to a trip to Greenland or Iceland and may never have even occurred. Further rumor had it that Columbus learned of this route to the Americas from a Bristol sailor, and that the English had established a trade route to these new lands, a claim that the Spanish would not have liked to acknowledge, and which historians also refute. After Columbus’s contact with the “New World,” Gonzalo Fernandez de Oviedo would argued that, actually, he hadn’t really discovered anything that wasn’t already known. Oviedo’s account of Columbus’s voyages begins with the statement, “Some say that these lands were first known many centuries ago, and that their situation was written down and the exact latitudes noted in which they lay, but their geography and the sea routes by which they were to be reached were forgotten.” He then goes on to mention a rumor that would conveniently establish Spanish claim to the New World—the story that a Spanish caravel had been overwhelmed by winds and sent off course, eventually landing in the West Indies, where its crew made contact with native islanders. According to this legend, only a handful of the crew survived their arduous return to Europe, and even these were so sick that they passed away shortly after their arrival at Portugal. As the legend claims, Columbus knew or met the surviving pilot of this ill-fated voyage, collected information from him at his deathbed, and created a map that he used to find the Caribbean. De Oviedo seems to mention the tale only to qualify the claims about Columbus’s achievements, though he remarks himself on the extreme variation in the legend’s details and declares that it is probably a fiction. Many are the legends of Pre-Columbian Trans-Oceanic Contact like this. Some, as we have seen with the stories of medieval Scandinavian contact with the Americas, are upheld by evidence that supports their truth, even if they are also confounded by hoaxes and unreliable claims. But others lack such confirmatory support and should be questioned. As de Oviedo himself explained, “It is better to doubt what we do not know than to insist on facts that are not proven.”

Any who are new to my content and unfamiliar with the topics I’ve covered in the past may find it informative to learn here, at the outset, that the topic of Pre-Colombian Trans-Oceanic Contact Theories has long fascinated me. I have covered such theories in passing or in part in a variety of episodes, including briefly in my episode on the Myth and Mystery of Columbus. Obviously just in the last episode I explored Norse contact with the Americas, which has been confirmed archaeologically in Newfoundland, while disputing claims of contact further inland, as supported by the Midwestern Runestones that evidence leads us to dismiss as hoaxes. Before that, in a series I highly recommend you check out between parts one and two of this series if you haven’t heard it already, I talk about the claims of the Hebraic origins of Native Americans in my series on the Lost Tribes of Israel, a series that led me to focus even more on the hoax artifacts that support such claims in an episode on The Archaeological Frauds of Pre-Columbian Trans-Oceanic Contact Theories. Perhaps the wildest of these theories that I’ve looked at, in an episode that I find continues to get a lot of downloads, is the conspiracy fantasy about a lost globe-spanning empire built by giants called Tartaria, which if you can believe it, claims that a lot of buildings with classical architecture right here in the U.S. are actually ancient remnants of a super-civilization, and this true history of the world is being erased by “elites.” Most of these can be confidently dismissed even with cursory analysis of their lack of evidence and, especially in the case of the Tartarian Empire nonsense, their ludicrous and ignorant assertions. However, even despite the hoaxes of the Midwestern Runestones, the fact that a medieval Norse presence has been proven beyond doubt in Newfoundland goes to show that not all of these theories can be confidently dismissed. The history of the Americas can only be pieced together through archaeological remains and other interdisciplinary approaches, as we will see, precisely because we lack a robust historical record from American antiquity. This is not only because few indigenous cultures developed their own writing systems, but also because, among those that did, the Spanish systematically burned all their written records. “Burn them all,” Diego de Landa, 16th-century Bishop of Yucatán, is quoted as saying, with the rationale that, “they are the works of the devil.” As the discovery at L’Anse aux Meadows proved, though, theories of Pre-Columbian trans-Atlantic contact can be confirmed even in the absence of any extensive indigenous historical record. And why could not some accidental traffic have occurred between the continents, such as the Spanish caravel said to have drifted to the New World, when the circular currents of the Atlantic are known to carry ships off-course and across the ocean. We must search for evidence of both purposeful and accidental crossings to determine what trans-oceanic contact may have preceded Columbus, and since we know from the Newfoundland find that Vinland, which I might point out was found accidentally according to the Saga of the Greenlanders, was no myth, then perhaps we should look at the claims of earlier crossings to determine first contact, as a Trekkie might call it.

Diego de Landa, Franciscan inquisitor notorious for burning Mayan codices.

Among the most popular of first contact theories out there is the argument that the first seafaring people to cross the Atlantic and encounter the indigenous peoples of the Americas came not from Europe at all, but rather from Africa. Indeed rumors of an African crossing go all the way back to Columbus’s time, again, according to Bartolomé de las Casas, who wrote that Columbus’s third voyage was actually undertaken to investigate a rumor heard by King John II of Portugal that the West Africans from Guinea were crossing the Atlantic in canoes and had established trade with the inhabitants of the New World. On this same voyage, de las Casas says that Columbus took interest in the claims of natives on the island he called Española, or Hispaniola, where today can be found the countries of Haiti and the Dominican Republic, that “a black people” had come to them “from the south and south-east.” Much has been made of this line, though it seems most likely that Columbus was interested in the rumor not because he believed West Africans had visited the Caribbean but rather because he had been told by the Majorcan explorer Jaume Ferrer that “gold was found most abundantly near the equator where people had dark skins and where the spin of the earth caused it to collect.” De las Casas would not have been the first to have used the term “black” to describe the color of darker skinned Native Americans, as a variety of other Spanish explorers, historians, and clergymen have written about seeing black-skinned natives in the Americas. Just how they differentiated and categorized the variety of skin colors they observed in the New World is unclear, and indeed, there may be an error in translation, as well, since the Spanish word for “black” can also be used to simply mean “dark.” These uncertain beginnings of the theory of African contact with the Americas, however, would expand when, in the mid-19th century, a massive carved stone head believed to have originated from the Olmec culture, an ancient precursor civilization to other Mesoamerican cultures like the Maya and Aztec peoples, was unearthed in Mexico and deemed by many to physically resemble Black African facial features. Thus began more in-depth research and the development of the theory of African Pre-Colombian Trans-Oceanic Contact by researchers such as Leo Wiener in the 1920s, with his work, Africa and the Discovery of America. Others followed, but the most recognized and influential of these theorists today is Ivan Van Sertima, whose 1976 work, They Came Before Columbus: The African Presence in Ancient America would take this otherwise fringe academic hypothesis into the mainstream, where it would be championed by Afrocentric critics who criticize Eurocentric academia for distorting and marginalizing the historical contributions of Africans to the world.

Afrocentric critics in many cases make a strong and admirable case about the myopia of academia and the legitimate existence of institutional racism and bias that permeates many disciplines, not only that of history and archaeology. Unfortunately, valid and important arguments such as these are sometimes undermined by the influence of hyperdiffusionist claims. Hyperdiffusionism is the pseudoarchaeological tendency to draw parallels between vastly different cultures and claim, without the necessary evidence to support the theory, that those cultures must therefore have originated from some common precursor culture. Whenever someone says that the construction of certain monuments in two disparate cultures must mean that there had been contact between those cultures, denying the possibility of parallel thinking and independent development, there may be a hyperdiffusionist argument being deployed. One of their most common arguments is that pyramids in both Egypt and the Americas shows that both cultures were related to some progenitor civilization, and often they will resort to unfounded claims about Atlantis or Lemuria. Since one of Van Sertima’s principle argument is that Mesoamerican step pyramids indicate some ancient influence by Egyptians, it seems fair to criticize his work as hyperdiffusionist. And when we examine the broad strokes of his theory further, the hyperdiffusionist rhetoric becomes even clearer. Van Sertima essentially claims that Egyptians, more specifically Black Egyptians, or the Nubians of southern Egypt and northern Sudan, whose dynasties preceded the first Egyptian dynasty, and who conquered Egypt again in the 8th century BCE to establish the 25th Egyptian dynasty, crossed the Atlantic and greatly influenced the Olmec, the “mother culture” that preceded the Maya, in Mexico and Guatemala, as evidenced by not only the Olmec colossal heads but also the Mesoamerican step pyramids. He also claims that Mandingo sailors from Mali returned to the New World in the 14th century, led by their very emperor, Abu-Bakari II, and that between the Egyptian and Malian transfusions of knowledge, much of the technological and cultural development of indigenous New World civilizations could be attributed to the influence of African explorers. One of the most cutting criticisms of Van Sertima’s hypothesis is that it negates the cultural identity of indigenous peoples, instead attributing their accomplishments to other cultures, much like the Myth of a Lost Mound-Builder Race, which I examined at length in what I consider a banner episode. Van Sertima and his proponents take great umbrage with this characterization, of course, pointing out passages in his work in which he explicitly rejects such views, asserting that his research “in no way presupposes the lack of native originality.” However, one cannot read his research without tallying the great many aspects of Mesoamerican native cultures that he attributes to outside influence. Indeed, he literally engages in a version of the Mound-Builder Myth when he asserts that the Olmec burial mounds of La Venta are proof of Egyptian influence. So despite Van Sertima’s insistence that he is not guilty of such cultural erasure, as his staunchest critics have pointed out, those who read his work are “left with the impression that all or most of the complex societies in the Americas were created or in some way influenced by African[s]…, and that Native Americans were incapable of creating any civilization or complex societies of their own.”

An Olmec colossal head.

Van Sertima’s critics do not only take issue with the “impression” his work gives, though. They also have serious concerns about his work’s scholarship, for the evidence he relies on is in several ways unreliable. First and foremost is the likeness of the carved Olmec heads to what Van Sertima and others consider to be typical Black African features. Van Sertima’s critics point out that this evaluation relies on racial stereotypes, and that indeed, the features identified, having to do with lip and nose shape, are commonly found in a variety of other peoples as well, including indigenous Americans. Moreover, if we were to read into the features of these works of art, we might be led alternatively to believe that they depict an East Asian figure, due to the apparent presence of an epicanthic fold on the upper eyelid. Indeed, as we shall see, a perceived likeness to Asians has also led to the Olmec heads being cited as evidence of ancient East Asian contact with the Americas. And as for his most popular “evidence,” about the presence of pyramids in the Americas, there are timeline problems with his claims. Van Sertima argues that Egyptians transmitted their practice of pyramid building to Mesoamerican cultures after 1200 BCE, when Egyptians of this period had not built large scale pyramids for more than 500 years. This issue with chronology troubles much of his research, as he makes claims linking aspects of distant Mesoamerican cultures, thousands of years apart, and does not attempt to or cannot demonstrate how they were transmitted from one place to another or why they were not present in the intervening centuries. Similarly, he claims that Egyptians taught the Olmec the technique of mummification, and that this was passed to the Maya, citing as evidence the sarcophagus of the Mayan king Pacal. However, Pacal was not mummified, and there are no such Olmec mummies or sarcophagi, and thus no evidence of the transmission of such a practice between the cultures.

But Van Sertima’s argument does not rest solely on the colossal heads and pyramids. He also marshals botanical and linguistic evidence, yet errors litter his work in these areas as well. Though the reading public who devour sensational historical revisionist books like these—the Graham Hancock readership, if you will—are thoroughly overawed, experts are not, and they have the knowledge to recognize where such authors are pulling one over on readers. One of Van Sertima’s principal botanical proofs is that purple dye was used in the Americas, and that the process for making it could only have been brought here by Egyptians, who used purple ritually in royal garments. However, despite his assertions, it has been proven that purple dyes were created in an entirely different way in the Pre-Colombian Americas, and there is no evidence that the Olmec attached the same cultural meaning to the color. And as with his claims about the practices of pyramid-building and mummification, he provides no evidence that such practices were transmitted between Mesoamerican cultures over thousands of years. The same flaw can be found his linguistic arguments. As we have seen in our examination of many historical myths, they often rely on armchair etymology, and this one is no exception. Van Sertima makes a detailed case that words in Maya and Nahuatl were derived from a variety of African languages, including Arabic, Manding, and Middle Egyptian. However, while the sources he cites to support the claims are other hyperdiffusionists sympathetic to his conclusions, more qualified linguists have pointed out that, not only does Van Sertima fail to provide evidence for the transmission and changing forms of these words through the centuries, as would be typical of a more credible etymological argument, his Nahuatl words sometimes do not even exist or they have an entirely different meaning from what he claims, and even his understanding of Egyptian words is frequently in error.

Pacal’s tombstone at the time of its discovery. Unlike Egyptian sarcophagi, which are carved of wood and person-shaped, we can see that this is more of a standard engraved tomb lid.

Issues of unreliable source material are in fact prevalent in Van Sertima’s work. He tends to rely, as his critics have shown, on outdated and since refuted sources. He does not avail himself of the most recent and most in-depth scholarship or available primary source material, it seems, because it does not serve his preconceptions, and instead he finds support in the work of amateur writers from the 1920s, like the thoroughly discredited Leo Wiener. And he amplifies conspiracy claims as well, such as those surrounding the Piri Reis Map. This map, created by an Ottoman cartographer, features an unidentified coastline across the Atlantic from Africa. The map was compiled in 1513, and it features a representation of the West Indies derived from Christopher Columbus’s voyages, but as the landmass on the left of the map extends downward, and even across the bottom of the page, it has been a lightning rod for conspiracy speculation, with some suggesting it depicts the entire coastline of South America and Antarctica. To give an idea of how this artifact has been misused by fantasists, Erich Von Daniken, the ancient astronauts theorist, has suggested that it must have been drawn by aliens, as he imagines it contains data only plausibly collected from aerial observation. Although not going so far as claiming extraterrestrials made it, Charles Hapgood, a history lecturer at New England colleges in the 1950s and ‘60s who is now remembered for his pseudoscientific claims and out there takes on ancient history, argued that the Piri Reis map must have been drawn not in the 1500s by its known creator but rather in the Ice Age by some advanced civilization. Just to reiterate, he thought it was too accurate and contained too much knowledge of the world for Piri Reis to have made it in the 16th century, so…it must have been made thousands of years earlier, when it’s even less likely that anyone had the knowledge. Of course, Hapgood wasn’t known for his sound theories. He was a catastrophist who promoted the idea of a recent pole shit, claiming that Antarctica had thus been free of ice when the map had been drawn. Today it is recognized that the imaginary coastline Hapgood claimed was South America and Antarctica was more likely Terra Australis, a theoretical southern continent that had been imagined and drawn into maps since the time of Roman geographer Ptolemy, who suspected there just had to be land down there to balance out the landmasses of the known world in the northern hemisphere. Yet when Van Sertima went searching for support for his notion about Egyptian contact with the Americas, it was this crackpot, Hapgood, and his half-baked notions about pole shifts and ancient advanced civilizations that he chose to cite as support. The quality of Van Sertima’s sources alone, then, casts doubt on his reliability as a scholarly researcher and thus on the credibility of his thesis.

Other hyperdiffusionist theories trace the origin of Mesoamerican cultures east of Africa, coming from Asia. Indeed, as already mentioned, the Olmec colossal heads have likewise been used as support for this theory, which unlike Van Sertima’s more developed argument, seems to rest almost entirely on resemblances. For example, Betty Meggers, an archaeologist whose work focused on South America, published numerous articles on her claims that the Olmec culture was actually begun by visitors from Shang dynasty era China. Her argument rests solely on her perception of similarities in art, including, laughably, the presence of jade in both cultures and the frequent depictions of cats in art, as if it is not perfectly natural for two entirely distinct cultures to both think jade was beautiful and to both like cats. She also cites the work of Mike Xu, who claimed to have recognize glyphs on Olmec artifacts as actual Chinese characters, though Olmec language experts view any similarity as coincidental. There was, long before the discovery of the Olmec heads and the discovery of these resemblances, some previous theorizing about ancient Chinese contact with the Americas, owing to a certain tale from Chinese mythology. According to some versions of the tale, there was a tree of life, called Fusang, known to grow far to the east of China. Legend has it that the founder of the Qin dynasty believed the myth to be true and sent one of his men, Xufu, on a voyage to find Fusang, which he believed to be an Island of Immortals, tasking him with bringing back an elixir of immortality. Xufu claimed then to have successfully discovered Fusang, and a few hundred years later, when a missionary named Huì Shēn returned from his travels to tell his emperor tall tales about the lands he had visited, then the idea of Fusang as a strange land was cemented. This Fusang, Isle of Immortals, was sometimes said to be on the Asian Pacific coast, and was even at times identified with Japan, but in some later maps, the term was applied to North America. Though this was not proof of ancient Chinese travel to North America, and likely both Xufu and Huì Shēn were fabulists telling false tales to their emperors, this led, in the 19th century, to a notion that the Chinese had once, long ago, discovered California. And in 1882, during a gold rush in British Columbia, in Western Canada, a string of Chinese gold coins was unearthed, said to have been found 25 feet below the surface in packed earth. Some thought this proof of Chinese contact with the Americas, and the coins drew a great deal of attention. They were, however, eventually exposed as 19th-century charms cast by a Buddhist temple, and one can imagine that they might have been found not 25 feet below ground at all, that this might have been the prank of a gold miner trickster akin to the members of E Clampus Vitus, the Clampers, who loved to claim that their order could be traced all the way back to Chinese explorers who had discovered America. Listen to my episode The Unbelievable History of the Ancient and Honorable E Clampus Vitus, for more on that myth. Suffice it to say, there is little to any of these claims, just as there is even less to the more recent claim, made by former British submarine commander and autodidact Gavin Menzies that Ming dynasty admiral Zheng He discovered America and circumnavigated the globe in 1421, a claim for which, in the two books Menzies wrote on the topic, he failed to provide a shred of evidence.

1792 French world map that falsely identifies Fusang (“Fousang de Chinois”) as being located near British Columbia.

Chinese transoceanic contact was not to be the only such claim made by Betty Meggers and her fellow researchers, though. They have also argued strenuously for the idea that the Japanese made it across the Pacific and influenced native culture in Ecuador. As before, their evidence relied on subjective resemblances in art, specifically in the pottery of the Ecuadorian Valdivia culture, which they reckoned was a bit too similar to pottery produced during the contemporaneous Jōmon period in Japan. Not seeing precedents for such pottery before the Valdivia culture was active, between 4000 and 1500 BCE, but aware that similar pottery could be traced back another 10,000 years in Japan, they reasoned that the ancient Japanese had brought it to the Americas. To refute objections that there was no evidence of seaworthy conveyance at the time that might have made such a voyage possible, she raised evidence of Jōmon period contact between mainland Japan and Kozushima, a certain island about 35 miles offshore, as proof of ancient Japanese navigational capacity. However, 35 miles of open ocean is a lot easier to survive than a crossing of the entire Pacific. Nevertheless, arguments about the feasibility of an accidental drift voyage have encouraged the theory. In 1834, a Japanese merchant ship that had lost its mast and its rudder in a typhoon drifted 5,000 miles to run aground in Washington state. Three of its sailors survived the disaster only to be taken captive by a local Native American tribe. Around 1850, another Japanese ship drifted to the Pacific Northwest, and its survivors too made contact with a local native tribe. In 1890, these incidents led a judge, who just happened to also be involved in violent anti-Chinese mob action, to further research and theorize on the topic. He found numerous incidents of Japanese drift voyages to North America between the 17th and 19th centuries, all carried by the Kuroshio Currents, and concluded that it was not unreasonable to believe that such drift voyages may have been occurring for far longer. The fact of the matter is, though, that even rudderless and dismasted ships from these more modern eras would have been far more seaworthy than the crude ancient watercraft that Betty Meggers believed capable of surviving such a vast distance. And regardless of the feasibility of even a single such accidental voyage first surviving and second making such an impact on American cultures, the more pertinent and harder to answer criticism was that fired clay pottery was simply too rudimentary a technology to claim it could not have been independently invented, and the stylistic elements that she thought resembled Jōmon period pottery were too simple and obvious to be considered derivative… in other words, anyone could have come up with this stuff. Finally, fired clay pottery thousands of years older than that left behind by the Valdivia culture has since been discovered elsewhere, associated with other ancient American cultures, a fact that basically explodes her idea that no one in the Americas could have come up with it on their own.

It is not East Asia alone that has been proposed as one of the cultural contributors to New World civilizations. Additionally, there are some theories regarding contact between South Asia, and specifically India, and the Americas. In 1879, a British Army Engineer noticed in a stupa, which is a place for meditation, a carving dating to 200 BCE that appeared to depict a custard apple, a kind of fruit that originates from the Andes Mountains in South America and wasn’t introduced to India until Vasco de Gama’s arrival. Actually, it is very common for a transoceanic contact theory to arise from a work of art that seems to feature a plant or animal that shouldn’t be known in that part of the world. In the 1920s, a Mayan relief was discovered that seemed, to European eyes, to depict an Asian elephant, further supporting the idea of Indian contact with Mesoamerica, and in 1989, a 12th-century Indian sculpture was seen to feature what looked like an ear of maize, the quintessential New World crop. In fact, though, as further research revealed, what was originally seen as maize was actually Muktaphala, an imaginary fruit covered in pearls known to be depicted in Indian art. As for the Mayan elephant, it turned out to much more likely be a tapir, a rather common animal that, like the elephant, has a prehensile nose trunk. The custard apple, it turned out, is harder to explain away. We might suggest that such artwork was misconstrued, that perhaps it depicted Muktaphala as well, since like maize, the custard apple is a bumpy or noduled fruit. However, archaeologists recently discovered the carbonized remains of custard apple seeds at a dig site in India and dated them to 1520 BCE. This seems to be hard scientific evidence of the custard apple’s presence in ancient India, if not proof of ancient Indian contact with the Americas. If such evidence of transoceanic transmission of fruit were found in the New World, it might be argued that a drift voyage resulting in a shipwreck might have carried the fruit, which may have been found and then proliferated as an invasive species, but the likelihood of currents carrying a drifting vessel from the Americas to India seems near zero. With absolutely no further evidence of transoceanic contact between India and the Americas beyond the presence of the custard apple, though, then instead of leaping to the conclusion of ancient transoceanic contact, we might question whether the fruit could have been transmitted by some other means, such as by migrating birds, or question whether the same kind of plant might have evolved in different regions independently (as a recent study in Nature Ecology & Evolution has actually observed, in the form of similar leaves evolving independently), or simply question the accuracy of the recent archaeological findings about the custard apple seed remains. 

Above, statue holding the mythical bejeweled muktaphala fruit sometimes mistaken for maize, and below that, the carving of fruit suspected to be custard apples.

We likewise find similar evidence of ancient Roman contact with the Americas in the form of certain New World fruit believed to be recognized in artwork, as in certain mosaics can be found what appear to be pineapples. Though it is argued by skeptics that these are actually umbrella pine tree pinecones, the depiction of vertical leaves sprouting from the top of them makes this identification somewhat weak. Still, though, in this case, the artwork stands alone and can easily be dismissed as misconstrued. We have no physical, dated evidence of pineapples in the Roman Empire, as there appears to be of custard apples in India. But in the Americas, there have been discovered numerous artifacts that have been claimed to be of Roman origin. In 1924, in Tucson, Arizona, 31 lead artifacts, were found including swords and crosses and religious objects, which bore Roman numerals and Latin inscriptions. In Mexico City, a terracotta sculpture of a bearded head was discovered in 1933 that appears very similar to Roman artwork of the second century CE. And in 1982, in Guanabara Bay near Rio de Janeiro, a diver discovered what appeared to be numerous jars extraordinarily similar to Roman amphorae, vessels with a narrow neck and two handles. It should be conceded that the possibility of a drift event, of a single vessel being swept off course and carried as a derelict by currents between continents, is not impossible. And Romans did have seaworthy vessels. There is evidence that Romans ranged overseas as far as the Canary Islands, after all, and being lost at sea in those waters could indeed result in the Canary Current carrying a ship into the North Equatorial Current, which would take them out across the Atlantic toward Central America and the Gulf of Mexico. For these artifacts to have ended up where they were found, there only needed to be one shipwreck, and in the case of the Tucson artifacts, some survivors who carried them across a strange new land. But of course, all of these artifacts are likely hoaxes. Experts point out that the Tucson artifacts were crudely cast and that their Latin inscriptions are all of well-known works by Virgil and Cicero and thus easy for a forger to have faked. Skeptics have even fingered a likely culprit, a local sculptor known to work with lead and to collect books on foreign languages. As for the terracotta head of Mexico City, skeptics point out that it was discovered not in a 2nd century archaeological site, but rather in a site that was dated to the 15th century CE. Most likely the terracotta head was deposited there either by a modern hoaxer or by a 15th century European. And finally, the seemingly Roman amphorae that were found in the bay near Rio were promoted by an underwater archaeologist known for self-promotion who had run into trouble with the law for illegally selling antiquities. Though not widely reported in America, nothing every became of this discovery in the eighties because Brazilian authorities determined it to be a hoax after a businessman came forward to claim the jars as his property, explaining that he’d had the jars manufactured in Portugal and purposely sunk into Guanabara Bay twenty years earlier in order to increase their worth by making them appear aged.

 Though all of these intriguing theories inevitably disappoint under scrutiny, leaving us with only the meager evidence of an ancient fruit seed in India, there is actually more reliable and convincing evidence that indeed at least one other Pre-Colombian Transoceanic Contact Theory besides that of Norse contact with the Americas might actually be true. It seems Lin-Manuel Miranda got it right when, in the animated film Moana, he depicted Polynesian cultures as explorers who “set a course to find / a brand new island everywhere [they roamed].” Theories about Polynesian contact with the Americas developed from the late 19th-century to today, based largely on the similarities between Polynesian watercraft and the unique sewn-plank canoes used by native peoples of the Santa Barbara coastal area of California. Additionally, similarities between bone and shell fish hooks used in both Polynesia and California were considered an additional telltale sign of cultural diffusion. Then there is the diffusion of the sweet potato, which can be seen to have spread from Polynesia across all the Pacific islands, including the very distant Hawaii and Easter Island, all the way to the coasts of Central and South America. Such eastward expansion was long deemed impossible due to the prevailing westward winds, which led Thor Heyerdahl, a Norwegian ethnographer and adventurer, to theorize in the 1940s and ‘50s that the civilizations of South America, specifically the Inca, had made contact and colonized Polynesia by crossing the Pacific in a westerly direction on rafts. Indeed, he even attempted to prove his thesis by undertaking a dramatic crossing of the Pacific on a raft in 1947. However, Polynesian scholars have proven that the area was actually settled from the west, and that Polynesian peoples certainly did expand eastward by sailing against the wind in search of new islands, knowing that prevailing winds would always carry them home. Linguistic evidence also favors this model, with a more convincing etymological case being made that the forms of the same words for plank-sewn canoes and sweet potatoes were in use across the Pacific Basin. Finally, just a few years ago in 2020, a genetic study appeared in the scholarly journal Nature that examined genome variation to determine Polynesian – Native American admixture, finding “conclusive evidence for prehistoric contact of Polynesians with Native Americans.” Thus it seems, as with the theory of Pre-Columbian Scandinavian contact with the Americas, this theory too stands up to scrutiny. And unlike hyperdiffusionist claims, this theory does not erase Native American cultural identities or give credit for their greatest achievements to another culture. So far as I can discern, it doesn’t appear to be a bid to take credit for the accomplishments of New World inhabitants or to lay claim by rights of discovery to New World lands, unlike many other transoceanic contact theories, as we will see in Part Two of this series.

The self-promoting “archaeologist” who publicized his discovery of some fake Roman Jars near Rio.

Until next time, remember the words of St. Augustine, as quoted by Gonzalo Fernandez de Oviedo to rationalize his suspicion of myths about Pre-Columbian Trans-Oceanic Contact Theories: “When the facts are obscure, it is better to exercise doubt than to argue an uncertain case.”

Further Reading

de Montellano, Bernard Ortiz, et al. “They Were NOT Here before Columbus: Afrocentric Hyperdiffusionism in the 1990s.” Ethnohistory, vol. 44, no. 2, 1997, pp. 199–234. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/483368.
Haslip‐Viera, Gabriel, et al. “Robbing Native American Cultures: Van Sertima’s Afrocentricity and the Olmecs.” Current Anthropology, vol. 38, no. 3, 1997, pp. 419–41, https://doi.org/10.1086/204626.

Ioannidis, Alexander G., et al. “Native American gene flow into Polynesia predating Easter Island settlement.” Nature, vol. 583, no. 7817, 8 July 2020, pp.572-577. PubMed Central, doi:10.1038/s41586-020-2487-2.
Jones, Terry L., and Kathryn A. Klar. “Diffusionism Reconsidered: Linguistic and Archaeological Evidence for Prehistoric Polynesian Contact with Southern California.” American Antiquity, vol. 70, no. 3, 2005, pp. 457–84. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/40035309.

Kamugisha, Aaron K. "The Early Peoples of Pre-Columbian America: Ivan Van Sertima and His Critics." The Journal of Caribbean History 35.2 (2001): 234-VII. ProQuest. Web. 18 Feb. 2024.

Kumar Pokharia, Anil, et al. “Possible Evidence of Pre-Columbian Transoceanic Voyages Based on Conventional LSC and AMS 14C Dating of Associated Charcoal and a Carbonized Seed of Custard Apple (Annona squamosa L.).” Radiocarbon, vol. 51, no.3, 2009, pp. 923-930. Cambridge Core, doi:10.1017/S0033822200033993.

Meggers, Betty J. “Archaeological Evidence for Transpacific Voyages from Asia since 6000 BP.” Estudios Atacameños, no. 15, 1998, pp. 107–24. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/25674708.

West of Vinland: The Controversy of the Kensington Runestone

In 1893, the world’s attention turned to Chicago, where a grand spectacle was being staged. The Chicago World’s Fair was a feat of planning and engineering, featuring an entire district of beautiful whitewashed buildings with neoclassical facades that came to be known as the White City. Within these buildings were attractions of all sorts, from museums of anthropology to demonstrations of locomotive technology. But the express purpose of the fair, also called the Columbian Exposition, was to celebrate the 400th anniversary of Columbus’s “discovery” of the New World in 1492. Some, however, took exception to this, and not for the obvious reason that the New World was already inhabited by a rich indigenous culture and civilization. Rather, they took umbrage with giving Columbus credit for discovering the New World because they argued that the honor belonged to others. Numerous countries celebrated their contributions to civilization in pavilions at the fair, but Norway went further. They sent a dozen men on a replica Viking sailing ship across the Atlantic, and then displayed the vessel at the exposition, asserting that credit for the discovery of America rightly belonged to them. Indeed, of all the theories of Pre-Columbian Trans-Oceanic Contact, or claims that Christopher Columbus was not the first European to cross the Atlantic and find the New World, this one, that Vikings were the first people from Europe to visit North America, has always stood out as far more credible than the rest. There is literary evidence for the claim in the form of the Vinland Sagas, Icelandic prose narratives that relate the stories of Viking exploratory ventures. In them, we learn that around the year 1000 CE, Leif Eriksson went off course on his way from Norway to Greenland and discovered a new land rich in grapes or currants, a land which he called Vinland. Thereafter, this Vinland is said to have been discovered and for a time settled by other Vikings. We know that this claim was circulated as early as 1075 CE, for the medieval German chronicler Adam of Bremen wrote about their discovery of some mystery “islands” deep in the Atlantic; however, the actual location of Vinland was long debated. In the 16th century, when European geographers wrote about the land they called America, Icelanders were certain that this was the Vinland of their Sagas, which had only actually been recorded in the 13th and 14th centuries, hundreds of years after the events they describe. The rest of the world, however, did not yet recognize their claim of discovery. In 1770, a Genevan scholar, Paul Henri Mallet, considered the possibility in his book, Northern Antiquities, but the Icelandic Sagas themselves, and by extension their claims about Vinland, did not receive much attention until the mid-19th century. In 1837, the Danish antiquarian Carl Christian Refn advocated for the recognition of Norse colonization of North America, and by the time of the Chicago World’s Fair, it was a very well-known notion, even though no concrete, archaeological evidence had ever been turned up. What a wonder it was, then, when, only five years later, just such evidence showed up in the form of an inscribed stone, specifically a runestone, such as the many thousands found all over Scandinavian countries like Denmark, Norway, and Sweden. This runestone told the tale of an expedition of Northmen on a journey westward from Vinland, and astonishingly, it was not discovered very near to the locations typically believed to have been Vinland, like Newfoundland or Maine or the Chesapeake Bay. No, this runestone was discovered in central Minnesota, and it bore the date 1362. If it is genuine, it completely rewrite the history of European settlement and exploration in North America. But can it be believed?

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As longtime listeners of the podcast must know by now, I love me some stories about inscribed stones whose messages appear to rewrite history but whose authenticity are dubious. Before I ever started the podcast, I wrote a whole novel about Joseph Smith and the beginning of Mormonism, and his claims, about finding inscribed plates that tell the story of the ancient ancestors of Native Americans being Jews who made their way to America in the dim and distant past, marked the beginning of my fascination with such hoaxes, along with my interest in dubious theories of Pre-Columbian Trans-Oceanic Contact. My interest in such stories was in full display when I started the podcast as well, as I was perhaps even more interested in the story of the Dare Stones, the inscribed stone fraud connected to the lost colonists of Roanoke, than I was in the story of the Lost Colony itself. If you haven’t already, check out my rewritten and remastered version of both those episodes, which I just released as a bonus episode. After my series on the Lost Tribes of Israel in 2021, I really delved into claims like these in my episode Written in Stone: The Archaeological Frauds of Pre-Columbian Trans-Oceanic Contact Theories, in which I told the story of Dighton Rock, another stone whose inscription was claimed to have been proof of Norse contact with the New World by none other than the aforementioned Danish champion of the theory, Carl Christian Refn, though no one could really agree on the markings of Dighton Rock, seeing also Phoenician, Portuguese and Native American pictograms. As that episode went on, I discussed the Pittsfield phylactery, a potential inspiration for Joseph Smith claims about the Hebraic descent of Native Americans, as well as the Kinderhook Plates, another Mormon hoax, and the Newark Holy Stone and Michigan Relics, all very famous and very fake inscribed stone forgeries. If you never listened to that episode, it would make a great follow-up to this one, so check it out. The reason I didn’t cover the Kensington Runestone and other American runestones in that episode is that it cannot be easily dismissed in a paragraph or two, as the others could be.

Anne Stine Ingstad leading archeological excavations at L'Anse aux Meadows, 1963.

Unlike claims about the Hebraic origin of Native Americans, which have been convincingly refuted for a very long time, the claim that North America was visited first by Norsemen has been proven true! As early as 1914, a historian named William Munn from Newfoundland began to theorize the locations of Norse settlements in the New World, namely Helluland and Vinland. Specifically, Munn suggested Vinland was actually located on the northernmost tip of Newfoundland, at a place he called “Lancey Meadows,” which is really L’Anse aux Meadows, or “the bay with grasslands.” The prevailing theory of the day, however, was that, since the name Vinland suggested a land rich in wild grapes, then the locations must have been further south, since it was then falsely believed grapes could not grow north of Massachusetts. However, in 1960, Norwegian archaeologists explored L’Anse aux Meadows, led by a local guide to what he called an “old Indian camp,” and discovered the grass-covered remnants of old Norse structures. Thereafter excavating the site and finding artifacts of bone, bronze, and stone, they have convincingly proven through comparison with similar encampment sites on Greenland and Iceland that this was indeed a Norse settlement, though whether it was the storied Vinland remains a point of debate. Some scholars still suggest that the lack of grapes at L’Anse aux Meadows means the Vinland site remains to be found further south down the Atlantic coast. However, while there is some indication that there may have been Viking trading outposts north of there, and west of Greenland, on the Avayalik Islands, Willows Island, and Baffin Island, no evidence of further Viking exploration south and west or into mainland North America has ever turned up. So the fact that, at the height of American interest in this topic, a runestone claiming to have been left by Vikings who had traveled inland from Vinland was found some 2000 miles south and west of Newfoundland, all the way on the other side of the Great Lakes in Minnesota, is understandably hard to believe. But as I said, it cannot be easily dismissed, as there are some scholars who, though outliers in the academic community on this topic, continue to argue that the Kensington Runestone is genuine and represents proof of far more extensive Norse exploration of North America than has previously been established.

The runestone was reportedly discovered in November of 1898 by a Swedish farmer named Olof Ohman. The story goes that he and his son were clearing trees from their land at the time, and they were working on uprooting a particular poplar or aspen tree (versions of the story vary on this point). This entailed digging around the tree, cutting through the roots, and winching it out. On this occasion, though, Ohman claimed to have discovered a 200 pound slab of rock grasped within the roots that had to be removed. Ohman’s 10-year-old son, Edward, was the first to notice the strange inscription on the stone, according to a later affidavit, and Olof Ohman called a neighbor over, Nils Flaten, to examine it. This stone would have a long and storied career, persisting through many eras during which it was variously decried as a fraud and then authenticated as a genuine medieval artifact in a scholarly debate that continues to this day. At first, it was displayed in a local bank window, and soon its runic inscription was roughly translated by a Scandinavian languages professor. The content of its message would be refined through the years with further study, such that today we recognize that its irregular runes bear a message in Old Swedish on its front face that translates to: “8 Götalanders and 22 Northmen on …exploratory journey from Vinland west of…We had a camp by two skerries, one day’s journey north from this stone. We were fishing one day. After we came home we found 10 men red from blood and death. AVM save from evil,” AVM being largely thought to mean “Ave Maria.” On the side of the stone tablet is a further message: “There are 10 men by the sea to look after our ships 14 days’ journey from this island. Year 1362.” Shortly after it was translated, it was sent to Northwestern University, where other professors declared it a modern forgery, determining that, though it claimed to be from the 14th century, its language was not medieval. Chicago newspaper articles also reported on the further indication that it was not medieval because the entire bottom left corner of the stone appeared to be covered in a layer of cement, which must have been present when it was carved because a portion of the runes had been engraved into it. So much for the strange runestone, it seemed, and Olof brought it home, discarding it on his property facedown and using it carelessly as a steppingstone to more easily access his granary.

The Kensington Runestone in 1910.

The story of the Kensington Runestone was not to end there, though, for it was resurrected by a Norwegian-American historian of the Midwest, who made it a career goal to authenticate the stone. He purchased it from Ohman and collected affidavits from witnesses of its discovery. The state historical society thereafter took a further interest and assigned an archaeologist to re-examine it. This scholar viewed the cement substance on the stone’s corner as a “calcite layer,” and though he did admit that calcite would disintegrate quickly in the elements, he suggested that because the stone had been found buried, it had been preserved. This new scholarly support for the stone’s authenticity resulted in its being displayed prominently in the Smithsonian Museum of Washington, D.C., for two years, which then drew further scholarly criticism, this time from linguists and runologists who argued with renewed passion that, through comparison with other medieval runic inscriptions, it was clear the runes on the Kensington stone were of modern, 19th century origin. Nevertheless, a museum in nearby Alexandria, Minnesota, was dedicated to the runestone, and it became something of a mascot for not only Scandinavian immigrants to America, but also for the state of Minnesota itself, which rebranded itself the “Birthplace of America” at its New York World’s Fair pavilion in 1964. And since then, a few outlier academics have bucked consensus by arguing that there are indeed medieval examples of some of the stranger uses of language and runes on the tablet, and that geological evidence can be marshaled to support the stone’s authenticity. Proponents of the stone’s authenticity even go so far as to invent entire historical scenarios, suggesting the travelers who left the stone in Minnesota may not have been from among the original Vinland settlers, but instead were from a later expedition sent westward in 1350 by King Magnus, ruler of Sweden and Norway, in order to reconnect with trans-Atlantic colonies with whom they’d lost contact. Here we begin to see numerous parallels to the Lost Colony of Roanoke. In order to explain the presence of the stone in Minnesota, it’s speculated that the colonies at Greenland and Vinland were found abandoned, and the expedition struck inland, believing the lost Viking colonists may have done likewise. And in a striking parallel to the Dare Stones hoax, one theory has it that the Scandinavian explorers actually hadn’t made it that far inland, but that some Dakota Native Americans had decided to lug the 200-pound stone to that location. Keep in mind that there is no convincing evidence for these scenarios. They rely only on the dubious Kensington Runestone for proof, and this demonstrates convincingly that, in rejecting Occam’s Razor and the by comparison simple and more probable explanation that the Swedish runestone suddenly discovered in the wake of the Columbian Exposition by a Swede was a 19th century hoax, the proponents of the Runestone simply want to believe it’s real and will go to great lengths to convince themselves that it is.

Rather than speculate on the circumstances that might make the artifact genuine, let’s examine the evidence that it is not, first by considering the content of the stone’s runic inscription. The message appears to indicate that, much like the first Dare Stone hoax, this one was meant to stay in one place as a marker (go back to my first two episodes, which I just remastered, to understand this reference). This is clear from the mention of their fishing trip, camping “by two skerries, one day’s journey north from this stone.” Such directions would be meaningless unless the stone were meant to be erected as a kind of landmark or monument, which was common of such runestones back in Sweden and Norway. If we can safely reject as unlikely the theory that Dakota native peoples chose to bear a 200-pound stone far from where it had been placed, then we can begin to think about the logic of the statement that this encampment in Minnesota was west of Vinland, which tracks, but that they left men with their ships 14 days’ travel westward. This makes less sense. The location of Vinland is understood to be on the Atlantic coast, whether you want to locate it at Newfoundland or some as yet undiscovered location on the New England coast. This would mean far more than 14 days’ travel on foot to reach Kensington, Minnesota.  For this to be accurate, then, these medieval explorers’ ship would have had to be anchored in the Great Lakes. However, the first ships known to sail in the Great Lakes had to be built and launched there because Niagara Falls and the rapids of the St. Lawrence River prevented passage all the way from the Atlantic. However, a 19th-century forger might have mistakenly believed that Vikings could sail right into the Great Lakes because the Norwegian Viking replica ship had famously crossed the Atlantic and sailed across the Great Lakes right up to the Chicago World’s Fair. This, however, was only possible because of the construction of the Erie Canal in 1825. Proponents of the Kensington Runestone will typically suggest, however, that the waterways of the Americas had greatly changed between the 14th century and the 19th century, pointing to the mention of islands in the runic inscription as proof. The runes say the travelers camped a day north on two “skerries,” which were rock islets, and indicate that the stone was being erected on “this island.” As there were no bodies of water with islands in the area, and as Olof Ohman’s farm was certainly no island, believers must assert that some boulders somewhere might have been skerries in a wetter era. There is no explaining the calling of Ohman’s farm an island, though.

Olof Ohman displaying the runestone at a local carnival, 1927. Image courtesy Minnesota Historical Society.

In order to explain away these issues, they are typically suggested to be problems of translation. Perhaps the words translated as “skerries” and “island” meant something else. Indeed, some of the most spirited defenses of the Kensington Runestone’s authenticity are linguistic in nature. While most experts have determined that the translated language of the runes is far closer to 19th century Swedish than to the Old Swedish of the Middle Ages, more recent scholarship by defenders of the stone have shown through comparison to medieval charters written in Old Swedish that some of the unusual usage can be found in medieval Swedish writings. Nevertheless, the examples cited are so rare and non-standard that it remains improbable that so many of these unusual words would be present in one text, and some words, like the preposition “from” and the word translated as “journey of discovery,” have never been found used in any medieval text. While these words that don’t seem to have been in medieval usage were common in 19th-century Swedish, there were still some puzzling terms that were not in 19th-century usage, suggesting that, if it were forged, the forger would have had to have some knowledge of medieval Swedish. But in the 1950s, it was discovered that Olof Ohman had in his possession a book called The Well-Informed Schoolmaster that contained these Old Scandinavian words in a section on the history of the Swedish language. Then there are the runes themselves, the script used to write the stone’s Old Swedish message. Its runes have long puzzled both those who debunk and those who authenticate the stone, as they simply do not comport with most known medieval runic inscriptions, but neither do they correspond with more modern runic scripts. This has led to interesting theories about the person who inscribed it, be they medieval traveler or forger. Some say they invented a polyglot runic system all their own, while others say they must have been a scholar using Roman scribal practices that they adapted into a runic script. A simpler explanation emerged in 2004, though, when a folklore research institute discovered a 19th century runes list compiled by a Swedish tailor, which provides both a medieval runic alphabet and a later variant runic code, dubbed the Secret Style, used by traveling Swedish workers. And so, now we know that the most unusual words and characters of the runic inscription, the parts that long puzzled all who examined it, may have been known by Olof Ohman or other Swedish immigrants who had settled in that area, as they were freely communicated in extant schoolbooks and may have been commonly used as a kind of journeyman code by Swedes of their economic class.

It seems inescapable now that we examine the man Olof Ohman himself. Unsurprisingly, since he was a Swede, and he just happened to find a runestone such as the many that were known to stand in Sweden, whose runes seemed to translate into an approximation of Old Swedish, all just a few years after the stunt in which a replica Viking ship sailed to nearby Chicago to assert that the Norse had been the first to settle America, suspicion quickly settled on him. However, it should be emphasized that there is no irrefutable evidence that Ohman was the perpetrator of this hoax. And actually, numerous character witnesses have sworn to his honesty and could not possibly imagine, if he had involved himself in such a hoax, that he would also involve his 10-year-old son in such a way. And certainly the fact that Ohman simply discarded the stone and used it as a step with zero regard for its preservation after it was declared a modern inscription does at first blush seem to indicate that he didn’t really have a dog in the fight. However, we might also imagine that, having been involved in such a hoax, he might have simply considered it failed and worthless after it was immediately seen through, which would explain his disregard for the stone just as well.  Some have suggested that if it was a hoax, it may have been the work of another Swedish-American who had immigrated to the area, for there was a burgeoning community there. One suspect was a schoolteacher named Sven Fogelblad, whose education may have given him the knowledge needed to compose the inscription, and another possible co-conspirator was John Gran, believed by some to have chiseled the message. However, for this conspiracy to work, Olof Ohman still likely had to have been involved, since he was close friends with them, and since it was buried on his land and he was the one who dug it up and started showing everyone. Just as there are character witnesses who say Ohman would never do such a thing, others said that Ohman and Fogelblad were an iconoclastic pair, and such a prank would not have been out of character for them. And there are further claims that John Gran admitted to the conspiracy in a deathbed confession, or at least a sickbed confession, to his son, but evidence for this confession is likewise weak. There is also the fact that a book with the Old Swedish words from the stone was later, after Olof’s death, found to have been in his possession. But owning a Swedish schoolbook is not proof of anything, and according to some reports, if Ohman were involved, no one in his family believed it. While it’s distasteful to bring this up and speculate about it, some who defend Ohman against charges being involved in the fraud point out that both Ohman’s son and daughter took their own lives in separate incidents years apart, and it’s asserted they did so because the stain on their family name was so shameful to them. However, we have no evidence that their tragic suicides were in any way caused by the accusations against their late father, and perhaps just as likely is the fact that both siblings suffered unrelated depression. Both heredity and environment are believed, after all, to contribute to suicide risk. In the end, all we really know is that Ohman dug up a runestone that anyone might have buried there.

Another Midwestern Runestone, the Heavener stone. Image courtesy the Oklahoma Historical Society.

While evidence of a conspiracy is weak to nonexistent, geological evidence of a fraud is, if you’ll excuse the pun, concrete and even more convincing than the linguistic evidence. As with the inscription, archaeologists and geologists on both sides of the issue have gone back and forth on this topic, with some arguing the layer of what appeared to be cement was a natural calcite vein or suggesting that it was a lime mortar such as the kind the Norse were known to use, and others comparing the aging of certain mineral elements in the stone to other stones like old tombstones, though such comparisons of lithologies are problematic, especially since the stones they compared them to were sometimes as far away as Maine. One of the most recent and most thorough examinations, by geologist Harold Edwards in 2020, shows the Kensington Runestone is very unlikely to be authentic. Edwards identified the calcite encrustation as stucco of the sort commonly used in the 19th-century, and pointed out that while 14th-century Norsemen were known to use such mortars, explorers traveling far afield in a strange land were unlikely to be carrying with them the barrels of lime they would have needed to make it. Furthermore, he identified the stone as a kind of flagstone that was being used in Minnesota for sidewalks in the 1890s. Scratches on its reverse side that had previously been mistaken for glacial striations he identified as tool marks, and the kinds of tools that would have been needed by the Norse to make the stone, including a grinding wheel, would again, not have been carried around by explorers. Moreover, there were plentiful nearby limestone boulders that would have been much easier for 14th century Scandinavians to break and cut and carve, and some of the marks on the Runestone, specifically the word dividers, appear to have been made with a 19th-century conical punch. In fact, all the runes measure exactly one inch, a standard of measurement that medieval Norse explorers would not have used. While it was long argued that the stone being found within the roots of a tree proved its age, and that root marks could be observed on it, Edwards could find no such marks. He points out, also, that though the stone logically would have been created to stand upright above ground, the calcite-rich stucco would have quickly been eroded and destroyed if exposed to weather for any significant amount of time before the stone was buried, and that the stone was weighted in such a way that it was more likely to have naturally fallen with the inscription side up. This meant that, since it was discovered with the inscription face down, it was more likely to have been purposely buried. And while it is true that the calcite stucco would have been better preserved belowground, it still would have degraded and actually faster if it were buried so long beneath an aspen tree and wrapped up in its roots. Edwards therefore concluded that the stone was a hoax created not long before its 1898 discovery.
While the scholarly debate over the Kensington Runestone has raged over the years, further evidence of medieval Norse contact in the Midwestern United States would have certainly gone a long way to authenticating it. As it happens, in 1923 another runestone did turn up, this time in Oklahoma, near Heavener. Then in 1967, another was discovered near Poteau, Oklahoma, and in 1969, two more in Shawnee. Finally, in 2001, the same strange letters from the Kensington Runestone, AVM, long believed to mean Ave Maria, were discovered carved into a lichen-covered boulder near the Kensington Rune Stone Park, a historical site preserved at the location of Ohman’s farm, where the original stone was found. However, rather than any of these stones actually serving to confirm the existence of Vikings in medieval Minnesota, they actually help to prove that it was a hoax. The Heavener stone is believed to be of 19th-century origins as well, carved by Scandinavian immigrants to Oklahoma who may have been inspired by the find in Kensington, and the rest of the Oklahoma stones were so clearly of modern origin, with freshly carved runes, that they are universally acknowledged to be hoaxes. As for the AVM stone, shortly after its discovery in 2001, some grad students came forward to say they had carved it back in 1985 as a fun prank and a test of the public’s credulity. But perhaps the most convincing evidence that all of the inscribed runestones of the Midwestern United States are hoaxes, aside from the obvious fact that they were discovered during a time of revived interest in medieval Viking exploration in places where Scandinavian immigrants had settled and formed communities, is the fact that no other signs of Viking settlements have ever been discovered. Consider L’Anse Aux Meadows, the likeliest candidate we have for Vinland and the only confirmed location of medieval Norse contact with the Americas. This settlement could be confirmed because of the signs they left behind: their abandoned artifacts and the remnants of their buildings. Without such an archaeological site, and with only these dubious stones to stand as evidence, the belief that Scandinavians settled the Midwest simply collapses under the weight of its presuppositions.

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Until next time, remember, scholars too can sometimes be duped by hoaxes, and when one decides to stake their entire reputation on one, they can end up being the most clever and convincing proponents of such lies.  

Further Reading

Edwards, Harold. “The Kensington Runestone: Geological Evidence of a Hoax.” The Minnesota Archaeologist, vol. 77, 2020, pp. 6-40. Academia, https://www.academia.edu/45218145/The_Kensington_Runestone_Geological_Evidence_of_a_Hoax.

Gilman, Rhoda R. “The Kensington Runestone A Century of Controversy.” Journal of the West, vol. 44, no. 3, Summer 2005, pp. 3–7. EBSCOhost, search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=31h&AN=18690882&site=eds-live&scope=site.

Hanson, Barry J. “The Kensington Runestone.” Journal of the West, vol. 40, no. 1, Winter 2001, pp. 68–80. EBSCOhost, search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=31h&AN=4489300&site=eds-live&scope=site.

Williams, Henrik. “The Kensington Runestone: Fact and Fiction.” Swedish-American Historical Quarterly, vol. 63, no. 1, 2012, pp. 3-22. Uppsala Universitet, uu.diva-portal.org/smash/record.jsf?pid=diva2%3A543322&dswid=3735.

Zalar, Michael A. “16th-Century Cartography, Plat Maps, and the Kensington Runestone.” Journal of the West, vol. 40, no. 1, Winter 2001, pp. 62–67. EBSCOhost, search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=31h&AN=4489299&site=eds-live&scope=site.

The Legend of the Bermuda Triangle - Part Two: Dead Reckoning

In fourteen hundred and ninety-two, Columbus sailed the ocean blue. This is what we’re taught as children, along with numerous myths that I have addressed previously, such as that the Earth was largely believed flat before Columbus’s voyage. We can thank prolific mythmaker Washington Irving for this myth, as well as many others, such as the character of Santa Claus as we have come to imagine him, and the popular notion that Ponce De Leon came to Florida in search of the Fountain of Youth. Well, thanks to Washington Irving, we also find Christopher Columbus all wrapped up with the myth complex of the Bermuda Triangle. It started with Irving’s account of Columbus crossing the Sargasso Sea. Like a horror story, we learn that his ships were becalmed in a strange expanse, with seaweed all around them yet no sight of land. Moreover, his crew witnessed strange sights, a fire in the sky, and an unusual light in the distance. Then, his compass began to behave strangely. In fact, Irving’s depiction was likely relatively accurate in this case. The Sargasso Sea, so named after the Spanish word for seaweed, would long strike fear into sailors. Typically seaweed was seen only when close to land, though it gathers here in the mid-Atlantic because of its circular currents. Seeing the masses of seaweed, sailors typically feared they might run aground, or worse. Stranded for long periods in this sea, sailors began to see things on the flotillas of sea vegetation surrounding them. Creepy crawly creatures that made their home among the branches and gas-filled berries of the pale brown sargassum seaweed lent it the appearance of movement, such that some believed it was alive, grappling their ships, holding them in place. In fact, movement was impeded in the Sargasso because of the so-called horse latitudes, a belt of waters in which wind was rare, with weather so calm that sometimes sailors felt they could not breathe. It was called the horse latitudes because sometimes, which on ships carrying horses were so becalmed that they ran through their drinking water, horses became so mad with thirst that they leapt overboard. As for the talk of a “great flame of fire” seen in the sky, and later of a strange light in the distance, these episodes are easily explained. The crew likely had spotted a meteor falling, and in fact, there is no sense that the sight was unusual or greatly troubled the sailors, who must have seen such things before. As for the light in the distance, this occurred shortly before they finally sighted land, so it was likely a torchlight held by a night fisherman or a native on a nearby island. Of course, UFO enthusiasts latch onto these lights as an indication that Columbus encountered some kind of mysterious flying object during his voyage, and once the legend of the Bermuda Triangle was established, the incident became proof that Columbus had almost been lost to the mysterious forces of the area, which were often linked to flying saucers. In reality, most of the Sargasso Sea is well outside the area designated the Bermuda Triangle, but it does overlap in its westernmost reaches. In fact, there is at least one indication that Columbus had entered the Triangle: his erratic compass readings. Compasses do in fact behave relatively oddly in the Bermuda Triangle. Considering the fact that the most notorious and most mysterious of Bermuda Triangle incidents, the disappearance of Flight 19, is said to have involved the failure of the planes’ compasses, this does indeed seem to connect the experience of Columbus and his crew and the vanishment of Flight 19 to some anomalous phenomenon in the Bermuda Triangle…but when we look further into this, the “anomaly” may not be as mysterious as it seems, and its effect on Columbus and Flight 19 perhaps entirely embellished by those who would make of the Bermuda Triangle a monolithic paranormal mystery when it is really no more than an assemblage of unrelated tragedies.

As we continue to explore the urban legend of the Bermuda Triangle, we must reckon with the inciting incident, so to speak. Strangely, the inciting incident of this drama was not the first disappearance said to have occurred in the Triangle, but rather the one that drew the most attention. The fame and notoriety of the disappearance of Flight 19 and the plane dispatched to rescue them cannot be exaggerated. It was a major, national front-page story that captured the public’s imaginations. Newspapers called them “The Lost Patrol,” though as I described in part one, they were not on patrol. Rather, they were on a navigational training flight, each of the five bombers crewed with three men, and only one, the lead plane, piloted by an experienced aviator: flight instructor Lieutenant Charles Taylor. All four other planes were being flown by student pilots, crewed with student navigators. Initial public interest in the disappearance of the squadron waned after the Navy conducted its month-long investigation of the incident and cited instrument failure and pilot error as the reasons for the loss of the squadron, but as the report would later be amended to conclude that the flight had been lost due to “cause unknown,” the same report would later fuel speculations about a paranormal cause. The seeds of the legend of the Bermuda Triangle first appeared in a 1950 Associated Press piece by E.V.W. Jones titled “Sea’s Puzzles Still Baffle Men in Pushbutton Age,” which paired the story of Flight 19 with the 1948 loss of a British passenger plane, the Star Tiger, near Bermuda, and the 1949 loss of another plan of the same model flown by the same airline, the Star Ariel, on its flight from Bermuda to Chile. As the title suggests, the short article only points out that modern mysteries still exist, and that even in the modern age “men and machines and ships can disappear without a trace.” It was a simple reminder of how vast and untamed the world still was, with no imputation of supernatural phenomena. But within two years, these supposed mysteries were expanded on in the pages of Ray Palmer’s paranormal phenomena magazine, Fate, a magazine credited with popularizing the idea that flying saucers were real and were piloted by extra-terrestrials. By the mid-fifties, the growing laundry list of supposedly mysterious incidents in the area was reprinted and added to in the pages of numerous books that attributed the losses to UFO’s, including 1954’s Flying Saucers on the Attack, 1955’s The Case for the UFO, and Donald Keyhoe’s The Flying Saucer Conspiracy that same year. The name “Bermuda Triangle” would eventually be coined by Vincent Gaddis in his article for men’s magazine Argosy in 1964, which would be reprinted the same year in Flying Saucer Review. From there, the snowball had gathered enough mass and momentum that it could not be stopped, and eventually we would see the legend fully fleshed out in Charles Berlitz’s work in the 1970s.

The Argosy Magazine issue in which the legend took its final form.

No matter what we might say about the way subsequent writers would add onto the legend, drawing tenuous connections and presenting less than mysterious incidents as mysteries in order to manufacture a myth, a fact is that the loss of Flight 19 did seem a genuine mystery. That’s why it captured the attention of the country at the time, why it warranted a Navy investigation that lasted months, and why even five years later it was being written about as a puzzle by journalists. This was not the loss of a single plane. It was a whole squadron, five bombers, and the fact that a rescue plane sent to find them also was promptly lost made it a true enigma at the time. What could have caused all their instruments to fail? Why did they lose radio contact? Why could they not have simply navigated west, making their way back to Florida, simply by following the sun? When they ran out of fuel, the plane should have been able to float for some time, long enough for the crew, who all wore life vests, to get in their emergency, self-inflating rafts. They should have been capable of surviving on their rafts for some time while awaiting rescue, and they were equipped with radio gear with which they could have continued sending SOS signals while in their rafts. If they had all crashed and been unable to launch their rafts, why was no floating wreckage or bodies ever found? Why were no oil slicks observed in the extensive search? And these questions apply as well to the loss of the Martin Mariner, the flying boat sent to search for and rescue the naval airmen. According to numerous accounts of the last radio transmissions of Flight 19, Taylor indicated that they were experiencing an emergency and were off course. When asked for his position, Taylor said he couldn’t be sure, that they were lost. When told to head west, he reportedly exclaimed, “We don’t know which way is west. Everything is wrong…strange…we can’t be sure of any direction. Even the ocean doesn’t look as it should!” What possible explanation could there be for all of this?

In fact, if all of these details were accurate, there are still some feasible explanations. For example, the sea looking strange might be attributed to the fact that methane hydrates are believed by scientists to occasionally release frothy and bubbling gas explosions in the area. Or if the flight had gone off course into the Sargasso Sea, perhaps the rafts of seaweed made the waters look unusual to any pilots who were not familiar with it, which, as we will see, flight leader Charles Taylor may not have been. As for the failure of the flight’s compasses, this may be attributed to the unusual compass readings common in the area, as was observed even by the first European to ply these waters, Christopher Columbus. In fact, there are exactly two places where these odd compass readings are known to occur, in the Bermuda Triangle and in a certain stretch of ocean near Japan called the Devil’s Sea or the Dragon’s Triangle, in which, much like the Bermuda Triangle, many ships and airplanes are said to have mysteriously disappeared. This compass variation is said to be caused by some magnetic anomaly in these areas, which could be linked to reports of St. Elmo’s Fire, or witchfire, being common in the Triangle. This weather phenomenon involves the electric field around objects like ship masts or plane wings ionizing the air and create a glowing plasma field. Perhaps this phenomenon could have caused the confusion of Flight 19 and prevented them from seeing the sun and navigating westward? All of this sounds rather scientific and convincing, but it’s hogwash. The compass variation that Columbus experienced is typical and common knowledge even among hikers. Almost everywhere on earth, compasses don’t point to true north, but rather to magnetic north, which gradually changes, requiring some customary adding or subtracting of degrees. Indeed, Columbus realized right away that his compass needle was being drawn to some other pole, as it was not pointing toward the North Star. The fact is that, in the Bermuda Triangle, compasses are known to point to true north, making navigation easier rather than more difficult. Any tales about magnetic anomalies causing spinning compass needles are nonsense; there is no evidence of any strange magnetic phenomena in the area, and though St. Elmo’s Fire is known to appear on the edges of planes, it does not affect instrumentation or the visibility of the sun. As for the Devil’s Sea near Japan, where it is true that as in the Bermuda Triangle, compasses point to true north rather than magnetic north, this sister mystery to the Bermuda Triangle has also been proven false. A series of New York Times articles from the 1950s are responsible for this legend, as they reported some ships being lost to undersea volcanoes and tidal waves in the area. These losses, which the Japanese did not find mysterious at all, would later be latched onto by American writers as evidence that ships were commonly lost in those seas, when the Japanese do not consider it an especially dangerous area. But after all this, when we delve deeply into the legend of the Bermuda Triangle, we discover that none of these potential explanations are even needed, as the transmissions in which Taylor talks about being unable to see the sun and says the seas look strange, it turns out, never even happened. These words of Taylor’s originate from a 1962 American Legion Magazine article that included fictional dramatizations of Flight 19’s final transmissions. Even though none of these radio messages were real, appearing nowhere in the 400-page Naval investigation report, they have been repeated uncritically as real quotations by writers who promote the Bermuda Triangle mystery.

An early edition of Larry Kusche’s book, whose title, surprisingly, was no exaggeration.

So it went for decades, each writer publishing on the Bermuda Triangle putting their own stink on the mess and not bothering to clean up any of the previous researchers’ garbage. Each new article or book simply recycled what had previously been claimed, listing the incidents others had already compiled without really looking into them or doing much in the way of fact checking. When one of these “researchers” bothered to do some research, it was usually just to find some new incident they could tack onto the lists, rather than actually confirming the mysterious nature of the incidents previously attached to the legend. But then came Larry Kusche in the 1970s. Kusche was a research librarian at Arizona State University. For those who know nothing about library science, this may not seem especially impressive, but if you ever need to track down obscure source material, a reference librarian is who you need, and his background in library science meant he had a strong sense of source quality and credibility and was able to think critically when evaluating what material could be trusted. In the seventies, the topic came to his attention when students wanted to write essays about it and sought out his help in finding credible support material. Kusche took an interest, and while the students who had solicited his help came and went, he continued amassing newpaper and magazine articles and looking further into the Bermuda Triangle. Kusche also just happened to be an experienced commercial pilot, flight instructor, and flight engineer with thousands of flight hours under his belt, making him even more peculiarly suited to cracking the case of Flight 19. Undertaking the project with the intention of writing a book, he wisely moved beyond secondary sources in the news media to examine the actual Navy investigation’s report and the personal records of Lt. Charles Taylor. Over the course of writing his two books on the topic, he conducted almost a hundred interviews, took a ride on an Avenger bomber, and even piloted a solo flight following the same path as Flight 19. What he found was rather surprising. Almost all of the lost ships and flights named by those compiling lists of the Bermuda Triangle’s victims had some rational and mundane explanation—causes as simple and to-be-expected as foul weather, storms that writers failed to mention or even insisted had not occurred—and many happened far outside the area identified as the Bermuda Triangle. As for Flight 19, he discovered that no researcher before him had even bothered to examine the investigative report, which, as he demonstrates convincingly, actually proves that Flight 19 simply got lost, due to flight leader Charles Taylor’s error, and went down in severe weather.

Those who believe nothing can adequately explain the loss of Flight 19 often appeal to the experience and expertise of Lt. Charles Taylor. By all accounts he did have extensive combat piloting experience and was an excellent pilot. But, of course, he was also human, and Kusche recorded indications of his fallibility. For example, he had twice before become lost while piloting and been forced to ditch his planes. The first time was June of 1944. He’d lost his bearings near Trinidad, run out of fuel, and had been unable to launch his raft before his plane sank, triggering the explosion of depth charges below him. He was lucky to have been rescued that day. The next time was January of 1955, earlier the same year as Flight 19’s disappearance. He had lost radio contact and had been unable to find his way to Guam. He put the plane into the water and he and one passenger spent all night in a raft awaiting rescue. This does not indicate that he was a bad pilot, but it does demonstrate a pattern that corresponds with what appears to have occurred on December 5th. There is a story about Charles Taylor having had a premonition about some disaster that would happen on the flight, causing him to ask to be excused and not lead the training flight that day. According to the investigation’s report, he did ask that another instructor take his place, but there is no mention of a premonition. Some writers have suggested that he wanted out of the assignment because he had tied one on the night before and was hung over, or even because he was intoxicated at the time of departure, but there is also no evidence for these speculations. In fact, witnesses said Taylor appeared “normal in all respect.” Just as likely is the possibility that Taylor simply did not feel prepared for the flight. Until recently, he had been based in Miami, flying patrols for a year over the Gulf of Mexico and the Florida Keys. All indications suggest that he had never flown the Bahamas route that he was then being asked to instruct trainees in flying. When Kusche examined the lengthy official report of the Navy’s investigation, it became clearer and clearer that not only had the loss of Flight 19 been Taylor’s fault, but the original report had even concluded as much, finding him “guilty of mental aberration.” Yet those who insist on the mystery of Flight 19 consistently claim that the Navy had been unable to determine the cause. This is because Taylor’s mother would later accuse the Navy of wrongfully blaming him, contending that they had no aircraft or bodies, and thus no evidence. So to mollify her, it seems, Taylor was exonerated, and the Board of Inquiry amended their report to state that the cause of the disappearance was unknown. The fact is, though, that the investigation had ample evidence to come to their conclusion about Taylor, all of it from his radio transmissions.

Lt. Charles Taylor, the leader of Flight 19, who was likely responsible for the loss of the five bombers, as Kusche demonstrates

One of the purposes of the training flight was to teach the student navigators the technique of dead reckoning, by which airmen navigate when over the open ocean without any visible landmarks. Dead reckoning requires a timekeeping device, as the plane’s location is calculated according to heading and speed, by keeping track of elapsed time, accounting for wind. During a pre-flight check, apparently it was noticed that the five Avengers had no clocks on board. It’s hard to imagine that the planes would be cleared for takeoff with no timekeeping devices on board, but radio transmissions, in which Taylor was heard more than once asking the time, suggest that this lead plane was without a clock. Nevertheless, even when Taylor began expressing concerns that the flight was lost, there are indications that they were actually right where they were supposed to be. About an hour and a half into the flight, Taylor started asking what one of the other pilots’ compass read, saying, “I don’t know where we are. We must have got lost after that last turn.” Communicating with someone at Fort Lauderdale and mistakenly using the call sign MT-28 rather than FT-28 (MT being the designation he’d been using the past year while flying out of Miami, and FT being the designation for his flight out of Fort Lauderdale), he said, “Both my compasses are out and I am trying to find Fort Lauderdale, Florida. I am over land, but it’s broken. I’m sure I’m in the Keys, but I don’t know how far down and I don’t know how to get to Fort Lauderdale.” This is the key to the entire debacle. Flight 19 had flown east and by that time would have been directly over some of the smaller Bahama islands, which can look strikingly similar to the Florida Keys. Taylor had been flying over the Keys for a year but likely had not yet flown over the Bahamas. The simple fact that he looked down and thought he was over the Keys seems to have convinced him that he had accidentally been flying southwest rather than east. Therefore, though there was nothing wrong with his compasses, he presumed they were not working because he felt he could not trust them, believing the evidence of his eyes over an instrument known to sometimes fail. Now we are able to understand why he did not immediately head west, and it was not because the sun could not be seen. Believing himself and the whole squadron to be over the Florida Keys, he believed that to head west would take them out over the Gulf of Mexico, where they would run out of fuel. Instead, he appears to have chosen to fly northward, believing this would take them back to Florida, when in fact it took them out into the Atlantic. We know this to be the case, because about four hours into the flight, Port Everglades, who had come into radio contact with the squadron, was finally able to fix their position well north of the Bahamas. But their position was never transmitted to Flight 19 because radio contact was lost. Like the compasses, this communication failure was no great mystery either. Taylor never switched to the emergency broadcasting channel, which would have had a broader reach, preferring to stay on the channel used for training flights in order to keep in contact with the other planes in the squadron. Then it was dark, and despite what promoters of the Bermuda Triangle legend claim about the weather being calm, out over the Atlantic where they ended up, it had grown stormy. As rescue planes would report, the area had high winds and extreme turbulence, and the seas into which the squadron would have been forced to ditch were described as “rough” and “tremendous.”

With knowledge of these transmissions, it becomes very clear why the Naval investigation determined that Taylor had suffered a “mental aberration.” Sadly, he became confused, decided he could not trust his instruments, led his squadron in the wrong direction, directly into stormy weather, and they all tragically ended up in the sea. Whether or not they launched their rafts successfully, it’s clear that they were unable to contend with the roughness of the waves. Another unfortunate factor leading to their certain deaths, if they had managed to ditch their aircrafts and survive for some time that dark and stormy night was the fact that the rescue plane sent to search for them was also lost, and further rescue efforts did not commence until the next morning. So now we must consider the loss of the Martin Mariner, the flying boat sent to rescue them the same evening they were lost. First, it must be noted that the Mariner was only one plane among 200 sent to look for the squadron, along with seventeen ships sent to search their last known location. Nothing happened to any of the other planes and ships out searching for Flight 19. When promoters of the Bermuda Triangle myth tell the story, it sounds like the Mariner flew out immediately and then vanished. A tanker out in the area observed an explosion at 7:50pm, made its way to the site of the flames to search for survivors and found only an oil slick and burning gasoline. Legend promoters typically discount this as unrelated, suggesting that this mystery explosion occurred hours after the Mariner had already vanished, but in truth, the Mariner took off at 7:27pm, only 23 minutes before the explosion was seen. And these flying boats were known to be at risk of such random explosions. They were nick-named “flying gas tanks” because they had a problem with the fumes of their fuel leaking out, such that if any crewman snuck a smoke or if any random spark occurred, they could go up in a fireball. Considering this and the evidence found by the tanker, it’s exceedingly clear what happened to the flying rescue boat in the aftermath of the loss of Flight 19. But despite all this evidence and the unmistakable conclusions of the investigation, legend promoters insist it is impossible to comprehend. They point specifically to the fact that, when the search was eventually called off, a standing order was issued to remain on alert for any signs of the lost squadron, and that this order remains “in effect to this very day!” But the reality of the situation is that whenever a search is called off like this, such a standing order is put into effect. It’s nothing unique or strange at all. It just means the search failed, which unfortunately is not uncommon.

A map produced by the Associated Press to illustrate the flight paths of planes lost in the Triangle.

So, we see the insurmountable mystery of Flight 19, the “sea puzzle” that launched the entire Bermuda Triangle myth, was no unsolvable enigma. In fact, it didn’t even really involve the instrument failure so often cited. It was just a matter of pilot error, inclement weather, slow rescue response, and in the case of the exploding rescue boat, an unsafe aircraft. We’ve seen that all of the many lost ships attributed over the years to the Bermuda Triangle likewise had simple explanations. Can the same be said for all the rest of the lost planes? Let’s look specifically at the Star Tiger and the Star Ariel, the two lost British planes originally cited in the first article to ever suggest that planes had a habit of going missing in the area. As with every other of the more than fifty incidents Kusche investigated, the losses of these two passenger flights were also shown to be explainable even if they remained unexplained. The Star Tiger, for example, seems to have encountered stiffer winds than expected, something typically left out of the sensationalist accounts in favor of claims that weather was always perfect during Bermuda Triangle disappearances, and in the case of the Star Ariel, because contact was lost after the pilots had signed off of one frequency but before establishing contact on the next, search and rescue was not dispatched to find them until the next day. While reports of these two flights’ disappearance emphasizes the fact that investigations came to no certain conclusion, suggesting some inexplicable cause, the truth was that their investigations did not rule out any standard cause with any certainty, and even explicitly stated that causes such as fire, engine failure, and loss of control could not be eliminated. The work of Larry Kusche on this topic is an admirable example of critical analysis and skeptical inquiry.

Skeptics like Kusche get a bad rap. Many people use the word “skeptic” as a pejorative, like it means hater or someone who doubts everything unreasonably. In fact, it refers to a systematic approach that should be taken when investigating most topics, involving suspending one’s judgment, evaluating the reliability of evidence and the credibility of sources, and eventually settling on the most reasonable or logical conclusion…or accepting that no clear conclusion can reasonably be reached. Another pejorative used for skeptics that some have applied to Kusche—a label I too have been given from time to time—is “debunker,” giving the impression that we set out determined to disprove a topic from the start, and implying that we would omit or ignore evidence that runs counter to our preferred conclusions. Kusche has addressed this label before, explaining that when he started his research, he really would have preferred to find something truly mysterious about the Bermuda Triangle, as his book would then have surely been a bestseller and earned him a boatload more money than it did. The problem was that his academic sensibilities and ethical approach to research and argumentation made it impossible to perpetuate and amplify what he realized was a total urban legend. This truly resonates with me. I understand that if I didn’t strive for the truth in my podcast, I could probably find far more listeners among those who yearn for the mysterious and the paranormal to be true. But it’s not just ethics that prevent me from promoting such insupportable claims and misinformation; it’s also, as Larry Kusche has explained, the fact that I believe the real story, the fact that such mysteries have been manufactured as frauds perpetrated on the public imagination, to be even more interesting than the far-fetched ideas of E.T. saucers, time portals, and Atlantean death rays. Maybe others who feel the same will eventually find and listen to the podcast in larger numbers, and legends like the Bermuda Triangle can be relegated to the history of mistaken ideas once and for all.

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Until next time, remember, skeptic is not a bad word, and debunker shouldn’t be either. You can’t successfully debunk something that is true, so using the word “debunker” scornfully just means you resent when the shams you believe are exposed as false.

Further Reading

Kusche, Larry. The Disappearance of Flight 19. Harper & Row, 1980.

Kusche, Larry. The Bermuda Triangle Mystery—Solved! Prometheus Books, 1995.

Raine, David F. Solved!: The greatest sea mystery of all. Pompano Publications, 1997.

 

The Legend of the Bermuda Triangle - Part One: A Watery Grave

It was 1945, and the war was over. In May, Allied victory in Europe had been achieved, and in September, a month after the US dropped two atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan finally surrendered. Within days of this demonstration of power, existing tensions between the US and the Soviet Union escalated with the two countries each occupying half of Korea, dividing it as their forces had also divided Germany. It was clear that world peace had not exactly been achieved, as the stage was clearly set for the ensuing Cold War. The US Navy, which grew a great deal in strength and importance during operations in the Pacific Theater, would have to remain vigilant and ready for further operations. Two months after the Japanese surrender, on the fifth of December, 1945, a squadron of five Avengers, the torpedo bombers most effectively and commonly used in the war, undertook a routine training exercise intended not just to maintain readiness and capability of their pilots with regard to bombing and train new pilots, but also, somewhat ironically, to hone navigation skills. It was called a “navigation problem,” basically a scenario intended to challenge the pilots, as they flew out of Fort Lauderdale naval air base, navigated to a certain shallow coral reef near the Bahamas called the Chicken Rocks, practiced a low-altitude bombing run, and returned to Florida. It was the 19th of these training exercises, so it was called Flight 19. The name would end up going down in history for all the wrong reasons, as these five Avengers would never be seen again. It’s said that the flight leader had had a premonition of danger before the flight, and that during the flight, they reported the sea looking strange and their instruments failing, radioing in their concerns about being off course and unable to navigate. After losing contact with the squadron, a boat plane was dispatched to find the airmen, who would have made an emergency sea landing and awaited rescue when they ran out of fuel, but they lost contact with the rescue plane as well, and none of the 14 men in the squadron, nor any of the 13 crewmen of the rescue flight were ever found, nor was wreckage of the aircraft ever located. The loss of Flight 19 was attributed to navigational error, in combination with instrument failure, and its rescue flight was believed to have gone down in a catastrophic midair explosion, but within 5 years, it had already begun to strike some as a mystery. A couple of more years, and some publications began to claim there was a pattern of disasters in the area, which they said claimed planes and ships at a higher rate than elsewhere. Within twenty years of the disappearance, the legend had been fleshed out, and the area of sea between Florida, Puerto Rico, and Bermuda had been dubbed The Bermuda Triangle, a patch of ocean stretching from the Caribbean to the Sargasso Sea that its researchers asserted was fraught with mysterious danger, the deadliest waters in the world. It wasn’t long before these ships and aircraft lost at sea were said to have fallen victim to fantastical threats. They had entered time portals, it has been said, or sailed right through rifts into an alternative universe. They were abducted by alien spacecraft, or they had been targeted by the advanced technology of the sunken civilization of Atlantis.

Welcome to the first episode back from my year-end hiatus, as we kick off what I hope will be another great season of the podcast and blog. This topic, the legend of the Bermuda Triangle, will take us on a tour through many of the topics I have covered in the past. In fact, besides the lost first episode, which I’ve taken down because I no longer want the first episode some listen to be a political diatribe (there will be plenty more of that for them later), the very first episode in my main feed is on the Lost Colony of Roanoke, and in fact, strangely, though the Roanoke colonists were not at sea, their disappearance has sometimes been suggested to be connected to the supposed strange disappearances in the Bermuda Triangle. Since I am working right now on revising and rerecording that first episode for rerelease (which I hope will help retain new listeners who might otherwise be turned off by the audio mix), this topic seemed the perfect one to explore as accompaniment as we revisit that first episode. But in fact, I am finding that the topic connects further, to, for example, my episode on the loss of Aaron Burr’s daughter Theodosia at sea, and to my episode on the mystery of the derelict schooner the Carroll A. Deering, both of which happened on the Outer Banks, near the site of the Lost Colony. Unlike the Lost Colony, though, the mystery of the Bermuda Triangle did not develop right away. As I indicated, it only developed years after the loss of Flight 19 in 1945, embellished by writers who had latched onto the notion that something mysterious was happening in the area. These writers came from the UFO world. One of the earliest promoters of the legend was the magazine Fate, published by Ray Palmer, the science-fiction enthusiast who almost single-handedly popularized the idea of flying saucers of extra-terrestrial origin. And in the 1970s, perhaps the most influential book promulgating this legend, which compiled numerous other incidents long predating Flight 19, was written by linguist Charles Berlitz, who before that had written pseudohistorical books on Atlantis and afterward, as listeners of the podcast may remember, popularized the Philadelphia Experiment hoax and the Roswell Incident myth in his books of the same names, co-authored with known CIA disinformation agent Bill Moore—yet another connection to previous topics covered on the podcast. What we find, then, is that a genuinely surprising incident—the 1945 loss of a whole squadron of bombers as well as the rescue plane sent after them—was afterward embellished and used as a jumping-off point by people known for fabricating other lasting urban legends and modern myths.

A squadron of TBM Avengers like those that disappeared on Flight 19.

To start, let’s look at the oldest supposedly mysterious incidents said to have happened in the Bermuda Triangle, most of which have been identified by people like Berlitz and his predecessors who had it in their mind that something anomalous in those seas caused the disappearance of Flight 19. They therefore pored over all the records they could find for that stretch of water, believing that any incident in which a craft or vessel or person was lost in that place must have been evidence of the anomaly’s existence. It is a kind of proof by location that does not hold up under scrutiny and logic, since it is never actual evidence of something paranormal or supernatural, and to prove it anomalous would require comparing the number of similar incidents in every other patch of sea all over the world. Otherwise, it is simply an exercise in confirmation bias. Take, for example, one of the earliest incidents ever claimed to be a mysterious Bermuda Triangle disappearance: the loss at sea of American Founding Father Thomas Lynch, Jr. Lynch had signed the Declaration of Independence, stepping in to replace his ailing father, a South Carolina representative in the Continental Congress. Interestingly, in a very early presaging of the Civil War, within a month of signing the Declaration, Lynch was threatening that South Carolina would secede from any Confederation if their ownership of slaves was made a topic of debate. Yet more evidence to refute the Lost Cause Myth. Thomas Lynch, Jr., then became quite ill himself, and he and his father returned to South Carolina. His father died of a stroke on the way, and as his own illness dragged on, Lynch, Jr., retired at just 27. It seems likely that he suffered from tuberculosis, as his condition only worsened over the next two years, and he ended up planning a voyage to the South of France with his wife, hoping the air there would do him good. Their ship, a brigantine called Polly, set sail on the first leg of their voyage, headed for the Dutch Antilles island of Sint Eustatius in the Caribbean, and was promptly lost at sea. To Bermuda Triangle researchers, it’s a vanished ship known to have been sailing through or at least near their Triangle, so it’s perfect. But all this is evidence of is that those were dangerous waters, for any number of reasons. The simple fact that there may have been a lot of lost voyages in those waters does not prove anything unexplainable occurs there. Bermuda Triangle researchers will sometimes focus more on lost ships or aircraft whose wreckage was never found, suggesting that since there was no evidence of a shipwreck, this is somehow evidence of paranormal vanishment. But this logic should be reversed. There may be no evidence of a shipwreck, but there is also no evidence of aliens or portals or lost technological civilizations, and which is more likely to be the case? Also, the fact that ships lost at sea and planes that have crashed into the sea might leave no evidence behind is not surprising. While it may be common for some to leave floating debris or oil slicks, it is also very common for every sign of such a disaster to sink or be swept away, especially in this area, as we will see. According to Popular Mechanics, less than 1% of the world’s shipwrecks have been explored. With 90-95% of the sea floor unmapped, it’s believed that there may be 60$ billion worth of recoverable artifacts and valuables strewn across the ocean. So it’s clear that lost wreckage is common, all over the world’s oceans, and the absence of wreckage cannot stand as evidence of some kind of supernatural disappearance.

The problem here is that promoters of the Bermuda Triangle legend present any loss at sea that is deemed “unexplained” and therefore technically “mysterious” as bizarre or unearthly. Cue the X-Files theme music. Really though, most of the losses at sea pointed out by these researchers are only considered to have no explanation because we may not know exactly what happened but do have some likely explanations. What these fabulists do is just reject or purposely omit the rational likely explanations and focus only on the uncertainty, which is misleading. For example, Charles Berlitz in Without a Trace lists the USS Pickering, which left Delaware in August of 1800 bound for the West Indies, as the first known ship lost in the Triangle, but he makes no mention of the USS Insurgent, a frigate that left port in August as well and is believed to have been lost in a severe storm that ripped through the West Indies in September. In fact, it’s believed that both ships were sunk by the same storm. And this is the key to many of the oldest Bermuda Triangle disappearances that frequently get ticked off as proof of some unexplainable danger, as that area is commonly struck by tropical storms and hurricanes. The next two lost ships Berlitz lists, the Wasp and the Wildcat, were lost in early autumn 1814 and in October 1824. These are all squarely in the window of the Atlantic hurricane season, as tropical cyclones are known to form mostly between June 1 and November 30th every year. Yet the actual word “hurricane” only appears once in Berlitz’s Without a Trace, and it’s not to explain these lost ships, but rather to explain the sinking of Atlantis, which he suggests may literally lie at the bottom of all the strange disappearances. The topic of Atlantis is a whole other monster that I cannot address with any depth in a series on the Bermuda Triangle, but suffice it to say here that the entire tradition of a lost civilization called Atlantis originated in an allegorical story told by Plato to illustrate metaphorically his ideas about an ideal state. However, some medieval writers came to view it as historical tradition, and 19th-century pseudohistorians later endeavored to prove that it was real, no longer believing it was in the Mediterranean, as was originally suggested, but in the New World, in the Caribbean. But what’s certain is that, when Plato wrote about Atlantis, he knew nothing about the part of the world where Berlitz and others demarcate the Bermuda Triangle.

The USS Pickering, one of many ships whose loss is attributed to the mystery power of the Bermuda Triangle.

What’s pretty ridiculous is that Bermuda Triangle theorists even go beyond the boundaries they themselves have set in their search for juicy cases of ships lost at sea that they can tout to their readers. Some, for example, have even pointed to the lost schooner Patriot, a swift vessel sailing from South Carolina to New York, carrying the daughter of Aaron Burr, Theodosia. Likewise, they will group in the abandoned Carroll A. Deering, which did sail through the Bermuda Triangle on its journey back to the U.S. from Rio, but was seen with men on her decks off the coast of the U.S., having obviously made it through the Triangle intact, and was only later discovered abandoned and run aground off Cape Hatteras. In both of these cases, which you can hear about in far more detail in my episodes “The Loss of Theodosia Burr Alston” and “The Carroll A. Deering, Ghost Ship of Cape Hatteras,” there are further, far more rational and supported explanations other than that some mystery vortex swallowed the ships or their crews and passengers. For example, there is some reason to suspect that, whatever happened to the Patriot, it happened along the Outer Banks of North Carolina, which is also where the Carroll Deering was found, and the waters off the coast of this chain of barrier islands, on which was located the Lost Colony of Roanoke, as it happens, are notoriously treacherous because of the shifting sands on the sea floor constantly changing the depth of the waters. Because of this, it’s called the Graveyard of the Atlantic. Since the late 16th century, there have been more than 350 shipwrecks there. Tellingly, no one attributes those to supernatural causes. But even discounting the very obvious possibility that these ships just wrecked and ran aground in waters known to be treacherous, there is the further idea that they may have been the victims of piracy, which offers yet another rational and believable explanation for the disappearance of ships in the Bermuda Triangle as well. In the Patriot’s time, there were bankers, or wreckers, which lured ships toward the islands with lights and then murdered the crew and stripped the ships of valuables. And during the Carroll A. Deering’s day there was some speculation of pirate activity in the Atlantic, by bootleggers or perhaps Bolsheviks. At the same time that something was befalling the Carroll A. Deering, an oil steamer, the S.S. Hewitt also disappeared off the Carolina coast, and like the Deering, it too seems to have been spotted, and its crew seemed to behave suspiciously. Add to this the fact that another ship, the USS Cyclops, had disappeared on its way from Rio to Baltimore a couple years earlier, and it began to look like ships were being captured off the U.S. coast at the time. In the case of the Cyclops, there were further possibilities, such as that it had been captured by the Germans while the Great War was still being fought, or that its captain and crew, several of whom were of German descent, may have been German sympathizers and purposely delivered the ship to Imperial Germany. But like the Deering, the disappearance of the Hewitt and especially of the Cyclops would be attributed to the mystical powers of the Bermuda Triangle even despite all of these more obvious and credible explanations, like shipwreck, capture, and—a further explanation for more than one disappearance attributed to the Bermuda Triangle—lack of seaworthiness.

In the case of the Deering, when she was encountered before her abandonment, a man on her quarterdeck had signaled a passing ship and said they had lost their anchors in a storm, and when the ship was found, it showed signs of having been out of control, as her emergency lights were burnt out. Certainly if it were out of control, it was no longer seaworthy, though in the strictest sense of the term, seaworthiness refers to the fitness of a vessel prior to undertaking a voyage. In the case of the Cyclops, there is reason to believe that it never should have undertaken its voyage. The captain had reported before leaving Brazil that her starboard engine was not operational due to a cracked cylinder, and the ship had to make an unscheduled stop in Barbados due to being overloaded with the manganese ore she was carrying, which also may have caused the ship to list and even capsize in rough seas. In fact, more than 20 years later, two sister ships of the Cyclops, the Proteus and the Nereus, both were lost in the Triangle while shipping loads of bauxite ore within weeks of each other. Score three for the Triangle it would seem, until you learn that these sister ships, these naval freighters, all had a structural flaw. They were held together with I-beams that ran the length of the vessel, and these beams were known to become corroded due to contact with the kinds of cargo these ships were designed to carry. Thus it is reasonable to conclude that all three of these lost freighters were simply not seaworthy when they undertook their final voyages. Similarly, in 1925 the coal freighter SS Cotopaxi was lost after departing from Havana, but it appears two of her sister ships suffered similar fates. And we know the Cotopaxi sank, rather than pulling some kind of vanishing act, because her crew radioed a distress call, stating that they were taking on water and listing. Still, she was for a long time listed as a victim of the Bermuda Triangle because here wreckage wasn’t recovered. In the 1980s, though, her wreckage was found, and in 2020, they were definitively identified. Yet that won’t stop Bermuda Triangle enthusiasts from still suggesting that it was some mystery force specific to that region that caused her to sink. Likewise, the frigate HMS Atalanta, which was lost in 1880 after leaving port in Bermuda and has frequently been cited as a victim of the Triangle, has been shown to have been unseaworthy by researcher David F. Raines. His exhaustive research demonstrates that the Atalanta was unstable because of its narrow design, as it had been built for speed by a yacht designer. Her sister ship, the HMS Eurydice, sank two years earlier off the Isle of Wight, and the investigation indicated that its instability led to the ship being lost in severe weather. But the Atalanta had even more working against it than just its design. It also seems that it was declared fit to sail again despite having recently taken hull damage in a storm, and on top of that, it was overloaded with an enormous volley gun, essentially dooming the ship before it even departed. Lastly, in 1963, 18 years after the disappearance of Flight 19 and just before the legend of the Bermuda Triangle really began to take off, the SS Marine Sulphur Queen, a tanker carrying molten sulfur, was lost somewhere off the southern Florida coast. While the Coast Guard investigation determined that the vessel was not seaworthy owing to the fact that it had been converted from tanker to a sulfur carrier, concluding that, if not due to capsizing in rough seas, it likely sank because of an explosion or structural failure, it nevertheless is routinely cited as yet another mysterious disappearance in the Bermuda Triangle.

The USS Cyclops, one of numerous ships whose disappearance, though explainable through numerous more rational means, is frequently said to have been the victim of some supernatural forces in the Bermuda Triangle.

Beyond the plain and I think unsurprising facts that ships lost in the Bermuda Triangle most likely just sank in a storm, were captured and absconded with by pirates or perhaps even mutineers, or were simply unseaworthy, there are actually some rational and scientific explanations for vessels being lost in those seas that should really satisfy even the staunchest Bermuda Triangle enthusiast, as they indicate there really is something unusual in that region causing ships to disappear. First, there are the unusual currents of the area. The area identified as the Bermuda Triangle is where the Gulf Stream, the warm waters flow out of the Caribbean and up the coast of North America, meet the circular currents of the Sargasso Sea. At a time when the speed of ships was calculated by tossing a log tied to a knotted rope from the ship’s bow and timing the appearance of each knot, any ships that did not conduct this practice very frequently could find that the surprisingly fast Gulf Stream had carried them significantly off course. They might easily find themselves adrift in the Sargasso Sea, then, which is largely covered in masses of floating sargassum seaweed and, being located on the so-called horse latitudes, without much wind. Often ships found themselves becalmed and trapped there. Additionally, the base of the Bermuda Triangle, the tract of sea between Florida and Puerto Rico, lies above a continental shelf, and at its tip the insular shelf of Bermuda, and in these shallower ocean floors, scientists have shown that methane hydrate fields sometimes erupt, creating a bubbling frothy ocean that can actually affect the buoyancy of ships and theoretically even swallow them whole. Anyone who recently saw the blockbuster film Godzilla Minus One saw this science put into fictional practice in the characters’ efforts to sink the monster. But beyond this relatively recent and technical explanation for ship disappearances in the region, there is also the simple fact that right in the middle of the Triangle, between the continental shelf and Bermuda’s insular shelf, is extremely deep water, especially in the Puerto Rico Trench, which is some 30,000 feet deep. Its depths were only first reached by submersible in 2018 and have yet to be thoroughly explored. It would indeed be unsurprising for the wreckage of many of these lost victims of the Bermuda Triangle to be found down there eventually. These scientific explanations and common sense reasons for why ships may go missing in the Bermuda Triangle should satisfy those who want to believe, as they confirm there are some unique qualities to the area that do indeed make it more treacherous than other waters. But Triangle enthusiasts typically reject such explanations as too prosaic, preferring instead their aliens and Atlanteans. The simple fact, though, is that even with the unique risks in the area, statistically the Bermuda Triangle does not appear to be any more dangerous than other waters. This according to Lloyd’s of London, the oldest and biggest insurer of seagoing vessels in the world, who in a 1975 statement to Fate magazine revealed “that our intelligence service can find no evidence to support the claim that the ‘Bermuda Triangle’ has more losses than elsewhere.”  

As the legend was meticulously created in the following years by writers assembling lists of unexplained but not unexplainable disappearances, they inevitably played fast and loose with facts and ended up amplifying and perpetuating errors. For example, one of the earliest examples of a mysterious disappearance given by Berlitz in Without a Trace is the Rosalie, which he says was found derelict in 1840 with no person aboard, and only a canary. He seems to have taken this from an 1840 London Times article, which actually describes a cat and other birds being left aboard. It turns out that this Times article got it wrong. They seem to have been talking about a ship called the Rossini, which ran aground and was abandoned, but whose crew had been rescued and taken to Cuba. Similarly the creepy tale of the Ellen Austin’s late 19th century encounter with a ghost ship, a tale that has the captain twice putting his own crewmen on the derelict in order to salvage it and twice more finding it abandoned, his own crew somehow vanished, appears to have been a ghost story told and retold among mariners, such that we see among its earliest appearances numerous contradictions, including the year it occurred, what flag the ship flew, and even the discrepancy of what the Ellen Austin was called at the time, its name having been changed, much like the Facebook corporation, to Meta. It was very clearly a campfire tale that Bermuda Triangle myth-makers like Charles Berlitz included in their lists as fact. And not to be fenced in by their imagined watery triangle, they routinely suggested that even people’s disappearances on land might have been part of the same imagined phenomenon. There are the colonists of Roanoke, but also two lighthouse keepers on Great Isaac Cay, a tiny Bahamian island off the southern coast of Florida. The story of the vanished lighthouse keepers of Great Isaac is extraordinarily similar to that of the vanished lighthouse keepers of Eilean Mor, which I explored in detail in my episode, “Three Men Gone.” In that piece, I found one compelling explanation of their disappearance to be a rogue wave that may have struck the island and washed the men away to drown. Such an explanation of the missing Great Isaac lighthouse keepers seems even more plausible, since Eilean Mor rises more than 200 feet above sea level, whereas Great Isaac only rises about fifty feet above the waves. But the real drivers of this legend, the stories that started it all and that remain the most compelling support for promoters of the Bermuda Triangle legend also have to do with the disappearance of those who weren’t on the seas, but rather flying above it, like the lost squadron of Flight 19, that I will be studying in far closer detail in Part Two of The Legend of the Bermuda Triangle.

Until next time, remember, if something remains for the moment unexplained, that does not mean it cannot be explained. Only fabulists sensationalize the unexplained as if it is unexplainable.

Further Reading

Kusche, Larry. The Disappearance of Flight 19. Harper & Row, 1980.

Kusche, Larry. The Bermuda Triangle Mystery—Solved! Prometheus Books, 1995.

Raine, David F. Solved!: The greatest sea mystery of all. Pompano Publications, 1997.

 

The Historical Jesus and the Myths of Christ Mythicism (Another Historically Blind Xmas)

A couple of times this year, one name has been popping up in my research. The first time was in my episode on the Ark of the Covenant. John M Allegro, I told you then, was an eccentric archaeologist who worked with the team in Jerusalem that brought the Dead Sea Scrolls to the world’s attention, and it was Allegro who translated the Copper Scroll and believed that the treasures it recorded were real and could be found. He was himself a kind of proto-Indiana Jones in that he led expeditions to track down this long lost treasure, which he never managed to discover. Something I didn’t mention at the time, but which serves as noteworthy context for what came next in his career is the fact that he jeopardized his academic standing by making unusual claims about the contents of the Dead Sea Scrolls, asserting that certain fragmentary mentions of a “Teacher of Righteousness” who seemed to be a precursor messiah analogous to Jesus Christ, actually proved that the story of Jesus was just a recycling of this older story, and thus Jesus Christ himself was a myth. Allegro appeared again, briefly, in my recent episode on the Entheogen Theory of Religion, as his notion of Jesus Christ being a myth that represents someone or something else had developed in a remarkable direction by 1970, after he encountered the work of R. Gordon Wasson, the world’s first ethnomycologist and inventor of a grand unifying psychedelic theory of religion and world history. Besides a sect that reworked older traditions about a Teacher of Righteousness, Allegro had come to view early Christians as a fertility cult, devoted to the imagery of penises and sperm, and also to ritual drug use, specifically the eating of the Amanita muscaria mushroom as a sacrament. As a mystery cult, they did not speak openly of their rite or their true beliefs, he claimed in his book, The Sacred Mushroom and the Cross, and instead spoke only in a sort of code, and early Church fathers unwittingly canonized their drug allegory as dogma. Just such a coded meaning surrounded the figure of Jesus Christ, for just as their sacred mushroom was known to spring from the earth without a seed, so too Jesus was said to have been conceived without seed. While Wasson took his mushroom theory of religion much too far, Allegro took it further still, claiming that through his maverick etymology, tracing words back to Sumerian, he could show the Bible was constantly making mushroom references. And as further evidence, he pointed to a 13th-century fresco in a French Church that depicts the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil in a way that looks a lot like a cluster of mushrooms. But of course, as I pointed out before, a 13th-century French work of art could not possibly shed light on early Christian thought or the rites of a Middle Eastern mystery cult in antiquity. None of his academic colleagues found his Sumerian etymology convincing, and his scholarly career fell to shambles. Even R. Gordon Wasson, who we might imagine would latch onto Allegro as an ally, could not credit his outlandish claims, stating that Allegro “has stuck to a naive misinterpretation…only because he thinks this would serve his thesis.” While the claims of John Allegro that Jesus Christ was a myth, not a real person, have never been taken seriously by scholars and are widely viewed as unconvincing, he is not alone in theorizing that Jesus Christ was not a real, historical person. This holiday, I’ve still got more to say about the man who many see as the reason for the season. So gather round the fire as I tell a different kind of nativity story, about the birth of a modern myth, but maybe not the one you suspect I’m going to tell.

In my last holiday special, you could say that I put the Christ back in Christmas, even though I began with a lengthy discussion of the false notion that the abbreviation “Xmas” was a nefarious secular attempt to remove Christ’s name from the holiday. In that episode, I discussed the image of Christ, and how the images we revere today may have differed from the man Jesus. The underlying assumption in that holiday special was that Jesus Christ existed, historically, as a human being, though we may more accurately call this a given than an assumption. The fact is that the consensus among scholars of the New Testament and first century Palestine is that Jesus Christ was a real person. In fact, for most of the Common Era, there simply never was a reason to doubt that Jesus was real; the entire notion of Christ Mythicism is relatively recent. Now, don’t get me wrong. Even during Christ’s time and ever since there have been skeptical views about him. In his own time, he was largely viewed by everyone but his followers as a heretic or a revolutionary rabble rouser. And long have there been alternative views regarding who and what his followers proclaimed him to be, one of the first being that he certainly had not been born of a virgin. One alternative view of Christology, or “Christology,” was that Joseph was his biological father, and that Jesus only became the “Son of God” when the Holy Spirit descended on him at his baptism. Thus God was his adoptive father rather than the inseminator of Mary. Along with these “adoptionist” creeds was a “psilanthropist” view, holding that Jesus was merely a man—a man chosen to bear the revelations of God, perhaps, but a man nonetheless. Another claim, popular among critics of early Christians, was that, while Joseph wasn’t Jesus’s father, he did indeed have a biological father, a Roman soldier named Panthera who illegitimately fathered Christ. One doctrine, Docetism, even argued that Christ was divine but had no physical form and rather walked around as a kind of ghost or projected illusion. What we can see here is that, all of these Christologies uniformly took a view that there really was a figure named Jesus Christ on Earth during the first 30 years or so of the Common Era. Even the doctrine that he wasn’t corporeal still did not attempt to say that he was not actually there, doing and saying things and known to his followers and his persecutors alike. The notion that he wasn’t real would not appear until the 18th century and the Age of Enlightenment.

The Festival of Reason, a celebration of rationality held by the atheistic Cult of Reason in the wake of the French Revolution.

Specifically the Christ myth theory appeared among French thinkers during the French Revolution, a time when religious dogma was being actively stamped out in favor of what was viewed then as Reason—remember that Christian churches were converted to state-run atheist Temples of Reason. During this turmoil, one Constantin Volney was the first to hazard this claim in 1791, suggesting that Christ was a kind of mythological sun god whose name was derived from the Hindu god Krishna. By 1795, the claim was taken up by Charles-François Dupuis, who, as many have done since, suggested that Christ was just another mystery cult solar deity, like Mithra. By the late 18th century, early 19th century, the idea had spread to America, where political theorist and founding father Thomas Paine, in his least popular volume of The Age of Reason, asserted “that so far from his being the Son of God, he did not exist even as a man—that he is merely an imaginary or allegorical character, as Apollo, Hercules, Jupiter, and all the deities of antiquity were. There is no history written at the time Jesus Christ is said to have lived that speaks of the existence of such a person, even as a man.” As we will see, Paine’s objection about records would resonate with later Mythicists. Later in the 19th century, the German Bruno Bauer, claimed Jesus was invented by the writers of the gospels, which as we will see would also become a mainstay argument of Mythicists. At the end of the 19th century, white supremacist William Benjamin Smith also cast doubt on all contemporaneous sources about Christ and further hypothesized that a cult worshipping some Jesus figure had existed prior to Christ’s lifetime. At the dawn of the 20th century, Scotsman John Robertson took up this theory and brought it back to its roots by again arguing Christ was a solar deity worshipped by a Jewish mystery cult, specifically identifying the sacrificed messianic figure worshipped by a certain cult of Joshua as the deity that would become Jesus Christ. In 1909, German philosopher and historian Arthur Drews synthesized these arguments in a successful and controversial book called The Christ Myth. While Drews’s work was embraced by Vladimir Lenin and Christ Mythicism became a foundational tenet of Russian atheism, the theory was almost universally rejected by historians and scholars, for reasons I will discuss throughout the episode. Thus the Christ myth theory disappeared from academic and popular discourse, until 1975 when English scholar George Albert Wells took up the cause throughout the 1980s. By the 1990s, there had arisen a coterie of Christ Mythicists publishing more and more sophisticated arguments. The consensus view of historians and scholars remains that there was indeed a historical Jesus, but if one were to read mythicist works alone, without also reading the works of trained historians and scholars that explain how we know Jesus did exist historically—like the ponderous multi-volume work A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus by John P. Meier or the more accessible work of Bart D. Ehrman, like my principal source for this episode, Did Jesus Exist? The Historical Argument for Jesus of Nazareth—one might think that mythicists have made an ironclad argument against Christ’s existence. In fact, while their books may be more successful with the reading public, the scholarly community rejects their methods as flawed, their arguments as unsound, and their conclusions as false.  

One of the central arguments of those who assert that Jesus Christ never existed as an actual person is that the principal sources for his existence, the gospels, cannot be trusted. They point out that that the original manuscripts of the gospels no longer exist, and that they were not written by the individuals they are named after, who might have had some first- or even second-hand knowledge of the man Jesus, but rather by men writing in a distant land some fifty years after the events narrated, give or take a decade. Since the gospels are full of contradictions and clearly legendary material, and since by their view, the gospel writers themselves were the ones inventing a mythical Christ, or at least were among the earliest promoters of the myth, they cannot be viewed as historical evidence whatsoever, and they look instead for non-Christian sources that mention Jesus within the first century of his lifetime. Such sources are few and far between, which they argue itself is proof Christ didn’t exist, though the fact is, such record keeping was not extensive or detailed in 1st century Palestine, and nevertheless there actually are some contemporaneous mentions of Jesus Christ outside of New Testament works. The most prominent of these are from Flavius Josephus, a former Jewish military commander during the First Roman-Jewish War who defected to Rome and lived the rest of his days writing histories, such as The Jewish War and Antiquities of the Jews. In the latter work, there is a passage called Testimonium Flavianum, in which Josephus seemingly tells about Jesus, a “teacher of people,” who “was the Messiah.” In the passage, he describes Pilate’s condemnation of him, his crucifixion, and his subsequent resurrection. The problem with this passage, however, is that it doesn’t make sense for Josephus, who was not a Christian, to have stated some of these things. Since it is known that Josephus’s works survive today because they were copied and transmitted through the Middle Ages by Christians, there is scholarly consensus then, that this passage is an interpolation, something added by a Christian scribe at some later date. So, Jesus mythicists will say, you can’t trust the Bible, and the only mention of him outside the Bible is also untrustworthy. However, from a more scholarly perspective, this is an overstatement.

A romanticized woodcut engraving of Flavius Josephus

While it is true that the Testimonium Flavianum is mostly viewed as some kind of scribal interpolation, it is untrue to suggest that scholars believe the entirety of the passage was inserted by later Christians. The fact is that most scholars who are experts on the works of Josephus believe that only certain elements were added to a passage that Josephus did write himself, specifically wording that identified Jesus as divine and mentioned his resurrection. Without those interpolations, the Testimonium only describes a teacher who was put to death and who continued to inspire a tribe of followers who call themselves Christians—a historical account much more in keeping with something Josephus would have written. More than this, there is actually a second mention of Jesus in Antiquities of the Jews, a blurb in which Josephus mentions James, whom he identifies as “brother of Jesus, who is called the messiah.” The Messiah, for those who don’t know, was a Jewish eschatological concept, a redeemer or savior figure who would appear at the end of days. The word would later be translated into Greek as Christ. So here we have Josephus specifically referring to Jesus Christ, who in gospel traditions is also said to have a brother named James. Mythicists dismiss this as another scribal interpolation, but scholars disagree, as there is no reason to suspect that Josephus would not have written this. But this is a common tactic of mythicists, as Bart Ehrman consistently points out. When some source is raised as support for the historicity of Christ, they simply dismiss it as probably fake with no evidence that it is. For example, there are no less than three other potential non-Christian sources for the historical existence of Christ that appeared within a century of the years in which it is believed he lived. In 112 CE, Pliny the Younger wrote about a sect who call themselves Christians and “sing hymns to Christ as to a god.” In 115 CE, Suetonius wrote that during the reign of Roman Emperor Claudius, he deported the Jews from Rome due to riots “at the instigation of Chrestus,” which scholars believe was a misspelling of the Latin “Christus,” or Christ. And that same year, Tacitus wrote in his Annals of Imperial Rome about Nero’s persecution of a group “called Christians. The author of this name, Christ,” he explains, “was put to death by the procurator, Pontius Pilate, while Tiberius was emperor; but the dangerous superstition, though suppressed for the moment, broke out again not only in Judea, the origin of this evil, but even in the city.” When mythicists address these other sources, they often say that these too must have been scribal interpolations, even though they add no Christian message to the text, get the name wrong, and even call Christianity evil. So here we see mythicists moving the goalposts, saying they would need some non-Christian source but then refusing to accept such sources when they are given.

It is true, though, that these non-Christian sources cannot alone prove the historical Christ’s existence, as they only go to prove the existence of Christians, or at most that the story of Christ, the gospel traditions, were spreading during the first hundred years after his lifetime. For stronger evidence, we must look earlier, which means examining the books of the New Testament historically. I do not mean taking their accounts as works of history, as their contents cannot be viewed as inerrant fact. But to contend that, just because they have a bias or contain some clearly mythological or legendary elements means that they are of no use to historians is absurd. If we were to throw out all such literature, then that would mean historians would also have to reject many other ancient works of history, such as Herodotus, who commonly blended fact with fantasy and rumor. Instead we must look critically at the texts to discern what they can show us. Mythicists, as with other skeptics, including myself, will first point out the authorship of these works. It was long believed that Matthew and John were written by actual disciples of Christ—Matthew supposedly being a converted tax collector mentioned in the gospel that bears this name, and John long believed to have been the unnamed Beloved Disciple. See my episode on the Authorship of John for more on that. Meanwhile, the other two canonical gospels, Mark and Luke, were believed to have been written by followers of Christ’s followers, Mark supposedly being a companion of the disciple Peter and Luke a follower of the apostle Paul. However, as mythicists will point out, none of this appears to be true, as all evidence points to these works having been written anonymously decades later by educated individuals fluent in Greek, rather than in Aramaic, the language of Jesus and his followers. And more than this, mythicists further deconstruct the gospel traditions by pointing out that almost nothing in John agrees with or repeats anything in the other three so-called Synoptic gospels, so it should be rejected as a work of fiction. And more than this, they point to evidence that both Matthew and Luke appear to use the exact wording of passages in Mark, suggesting that their authors used Mark as a source. According to mythicists, then, this means that there is really only a single source, Mark, which they view as a work of fiction that invented the man Jesus. However, as with other mythicist arguments, they have latched onto one aspect of modern scholarship to make an argument that no New Testament scholars agree with.

Codex Vaticanus, a 4th century Greek Bible which contains one of the earliest extant complete manuscripts of The Gospel According to Mark, itself the earliest of the surviving gospels.

The fact is that mythicists are absolutely right when they point out that we don’t have original documents of the gospels, and that they contain a multitude of discrepancies, and that John presents an almost entirely different story from the Synoptic gospels, and that Matthew and Luke do appear to repeat elements of Mark. But a further fact is that Matthew and Luke also each contain unique and independent elements not copied from Mark, like the Beatitudes and the Lord’s Prayer. Matthew also contains the story of the Magi, which no other gospel contains, and Luke contains the parables of the good Samaritan and the prodigal son, which are unique to that gospel. Does this mean that these are all invented whole cloth? Experts on this topic don’t believe that. The academic consensus is that the writers of the canonical gospels were working from numerous sources. Luke even references these older accounts in chapter 1, stating, “Since many have undertaken to compile a narrative about the events that have been fulfilled among us, just as they were handed on to us by those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and servants of the word, I, too, decided, as one having a grasp of everything from the start, to write a well-ordered account.” New Testament scholars designate these pre-existing sources using letters. The source of episodes that appear only in Matthew being called M, and those that appear only in Luke being called L, and the source of traditions that appear in both Matthew and Luke but not Mark being designated Q, for quelle, the German word for “source.” Rather than viewing John as a complete aberration that doesn’t match source material at all, The Gospel According to John is also believed by experts to be based on pre-existing sources that simply have not survived. These are called the Signs Source, believed to be the source from which John took accounts of Christ’s miracles, and more than one Discourse Source, from which he took the speeches that he attributes to Jesus. Some scholars even suggest that his account of the passion is derived from some other currently lost work. Beyond these, there are other surviving gospels that simply aren’t canonized, like the Gospel of Peter and the Gospel of Thomas. And beyond even the written sources there is scholarly analysis of the gospels that suggests they all derive ultimately from oral traditions, which would make a lot of sense considering that it’s believed literacy was uncommon in 1st century Palestine. Moreover, the fact that occasional words in the gospels are given in Aramaic and then explicitly translated into Greek supports the notion that written Gospel sources were recording Aramaic oral traditions. So altogether, this provides a picture of the evolution of gospel traditions, coming out of Palestine during the time of Christ in the form of oral tradition, being written out afterward in sources now lost to us, and then preserved in the surviving gospels. Thus, while mythicists try to reduce these sources to a single work, all evidence suggests there were numerous contemporaneous accounts of the living man named Jesus who was called by his followers the Christ.

The fact is, though, that there are numerous other early Christian sources beyond gospel accounts that attest to the existence of Jesus Christ. One source was Papias, an early second century church father who describes, in words that only survive in quotation by later writers, how he pieced together what he knew of Jesus by seeking out and questioning those who had known Christ’s disciples in life. His writing, a five-volume work reportedly called Expositions of the Sayings of the Lord, would amount to a primary source document if it had been transmitted by ancient scribes and survived for us to read today. We further have Ignatius of Antioch’s early second century letter to the Smyrnaeans, which repeats the major incidents of the gospels, and I Clement, a letter written by Roman Christians and addressed to the Christians in Corinth, which makes clear that there was early, widespread knowledge of Jesus’s life, teachings, and death. Throughout the New Testament, beyond the gospels, we see clear knowledge among early Christians of Jesus and his life that mythicists will tell you had just recently been invented. The information litters the Acts of the Apostles, numerous epistles such as I Timothy, the Letter to the Hebrews, and I and II Peter, and I John. Even the Book of Revelations contains passages that reflect clear knowledge of Christ and gospel traditions, all of which are dated to the 1st century. And the biggest stumbling blocks that mythicists must negotiate are the Pauline epistles, the numerous letters written by the Apostle Paul, which make up the majority of the New Testament and according to scholarly consensus actually were written years, even decades before the surviving, canonized gospels. You heard that right. The gospels record events said to have occurred during the life of Christ, but the letters of Paul, a one-time persecutor of Christians who was converted, are the earliest written sources that appear in the New Testament. To deal with this massive blind spot in their argument, they cast doubt on whether the epistles of Paul really show that he had any knowledge of Christ. They argue that, for someone who supposedly was so devoted to faith in Christ, he sure doesn’t talk much about Jesus and his life. The fact is that his letters were to other early Christians who were well aware of the life story of Christ, so there was no need for him to be preaching to the converted, as it were. Regardless, there are clear instances in which Paul references the life and death of Jesus—specifically about his birth, his being a Jew of the Davidic line, his brothers (specifically naming James), his teachings, his prediction of his own death, his crucifixion, and his burial. Some mythicists, as is typical of many of their arguments, attempt to address this fact, which seems devastating to their argument, by again weakly suggesting without a shred of evidence that later Christian scribes just inserted these references to Christ in Paul’s epistles.

A portrait of Paul the Apostle by Rembrandt

As Bart Ehrman explains, one major criterion for determining the historical authenticity of any report in ancient works, besides whether it is independently attested to in numerous sources—which is certainly the case with the historicity of Jesus Christ—is the so-called “criterion of dissimilarity.” Essentially, this has to do with whether the reported fact or incident serves some purpose or accords in some way with an article of faith that the transmitters of the document want to promote. To put it plainly, if some detail concerning Jesus’s life did not help later Christians, or even early Christians, to promulgate their doctrines, why would they make it up or insert it into works that did not include it. Mythicists too use this criterion to argue that each part of Christ’s story serves a purpose in spreading the Christ myth, but as Ehrman points out, this criterion is supposed to be used—can only be used, really—to prove something did happen, not to prove it did not happen. And there are several independently corroborated details of Christ’s life that meet this criterion. One is the existence of Jesus’s family, specifically his brothers. Not only does this information appear in a variety of our sources, it also seems to serve no clear Christian agenda. If it were made up, why? Another is Christ’s crucifixion, which was likewise corroborated in numerous sources, and was actually quite inconvenient for Christians. It must be remembered that Christians were trying to tie their Jesus to the foretold messiah of Jewish tradition, but it had never been part of prophecy that the Messiah would suffer and die so violently. It was said the Messiah would bring about the resurrection, but this wasn’t about the Messiah dying and rising again. Rather, it was about the resurrection of all the dead and the conquering of death altogether. Christians had to bend over backward, finding old bits of scripture that they suggested were actually prophecies about the Messiah being pierced and not having bones broken in order to bolster their case that their man Jesus was the Messiah. Why would they have made up the story of the passion if it made it harder to argue their doctrine? And lastly, the fact that Jesus came from a poor little backwater village in Galilee called Nazareth was also a real problem for early Christians, as it was said the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem. To address this problem, they told a dubious story about his mother traveling to Bethlehem for a census that, according to historians, would not take place for another 6 years. The point is that, though it does indeed seem that this gospel tradition, like others, is not to be trusted, if early Christians were just inventing the story of Jesus Christ, if it were not based on a real, historical person’s life, why would they not just say that he was born in Bethlehem? Well, mythicists have an interesting response to this problem. They claim that no such place as Nazareth even existed, that Jesus being from Nazareth in the gospel traditions resulted from a mistranslation of a word for “branch,” referring to Jesus supposedly being a branch from the line of King David, or that he was a member of a sect called Nazirites, mistakenly called a Nazarene. We can safely dismiss this mythicist argument as well, though, since archaeologists have actually located the small Judean village of Nazareth. Mythicists have done mental gymnastics to refute this archaeological evidence, suggesting that, while it may have existed, it wasn’t inhabited during Jesus’s lifetime, a claim further refuted by archaeologists who have turned up a variety of evidence, from pottery to coins, that prove it was not only a real place, but also inhabited during the time in question.

The last mythicist argument to consider looks farther back, before the Common Era, to pagan traditions of antiquity. What most of the various mythicist arguments have in common is the claim that Jesus Christ was just one more version of a pagan myth or deity, that his myth was a reinvention or evolution of previous myths. I’ve brought up ideas like this before, and to be honest, they cannot be refuted entirely because there is clear reason to believe that elements of pagan belief were incorporated into Christian traditions. However, what mythicists do is take this entirely too far. For example, one strain of Christ Mythicism takes supposed similarities to Mithra and Mithraism and argues that Jesus did not exist any more than Mithra did, that Christianity was just a rebranding of Mithraism. I spoke about this in greater detail in my very first holiday special. Essentially, there is good reason to think that December 25th was chosen as the date for Christmas not because it was the literal date of Jesus’s birth, but because it coincided with the pagan holiday of the birth of the unconquered sun, Sol Invictus, which seems to have been a later development of the Mithraic mystery cult, but the numerous claims about every single element of Christianity being derived from Mithraism lack credibility. He was not born of a virgin; he was born of a rock. He did not have twelve disciples; rather, he was pictured in certain reliefs with figures representing the twelve signs of the zodiac. While it is true that certain early Christian apologists like Justin Martyr and Tertullian drew comparisons between the two religions, suggesting Christian baptism and the eucharistic ceremony were similar to Mithraic ritual meals and ablutions, these parallels are dubious. They were promoted by Christians hoping to convert pagans by suggesting their practices were not so dissimilar, and if there was any connection or crossover between the two, it may very well be that evolving Mithraic customs were actually beginning to incorporate nascent Christian practices. Any absolutist argument about Christianity being a whole-cloth adaptation of Mithraism just doesn’t hold up under scrutiny.

Relief depicting Mithra slaying a Bull (a tauroctony). The image was iconic in Mithraism and has no clear connection to Christianity.

Mythicists do not limit themselves to Mithraism, though. Many draw parallels to a wide variety of mythological deities, specifically what they call pagan dying-rising gods. They take this notion from the writings of comparative mythologist James Frazer, who raised the idea in his important late 19th-century work, The Golden Bough. According to Frazer, there is a motif among world religions and mythologies, a kind of archetype or category into which many deities fit, and it involved dying and rising again. For Frazer, this had to do with fertility cults and their preoccupation with the life cycles of vegetation. Just as ancient sun worship saw the setting and rising of the sun as a kind of death and resurrection, so too fertility cults saw the life cycles of plants that seem to die in the winter and revive in the spring as a cycle of rebirth. Frazer identifies deities like Osiris, Adonis, and Tammuz as just such dying and rising gods, and mythicists would throw Jesus Christ on the pile. In this, however, mythicists are working in an outmoded scholarly tradition. More recent scholarship views Frazer’s claims as flawed, suggesting that most of the deities he identified are more like disappearing gods or just dying gods. For example, Osiris does die, but he doesn’t come back to life, instead becoming the lord of the dead. Likewise, Adonis is simply forced to live some of his life in the realm of the living and some in the realm of the dead because Aphrodite and Persephone fight over him. And like Adonis, since these vegetative deities represent a cycle, there is often a perpetual death and rebirth, which is, of course, not the case for Jesus. As I have already mentioned, for early Christians, it is clear that Christ’s resurrection represented the beginning of the Messianic age, in which all the dead would be resurrected. He was viewed explicitly as a fulfillment of Jewish prophecy, not as some pagan fertility deity. And the simple fact is, though Christians throughout history have refused to acknowledge it, the earliest of Christians did not view Jesus as a god, or The God, at all. He was just the Christ, the Messiah, the anointed king, the son of God in the same way that all Davidic kings were the Sons of God, and whether in a biological sense the offspring of God as well, or just perhaps the adoptive son of God, still not God Himself. In short, there is just no clear evidence to support the notion that this human man, this historical man that came to be the leader of an apocalyptic Judaic sect, was actually, secretly viewed as a fertility deity, let alone that he did not exist and was invented to represent such a deity.

Another rather ironic claim by mythicists is that there was no Jesus because the stories about Jesus’s life are nearly identical to the stories about another sage who lived at the same time, Apollonius of Tyana, whose existence is widely confirmed by scholars. In such a claim, worded as carefully as I’ve just worded it, they are absolutely correct. According to the principal source for the life of Apollonius, a third-century biography by Lucius Flavius Philostratus, Apollonius’s mother was visited by the apparition of the Egyptian god Proteus and bore this god a son, who would himself be divine. And this son, Apollonius, was a precocious young teen, demonstrating his great wisdom at only fourteen, and he grew to become an itinerant mystic philosopher, performing miracles and mustering disciples. He runs afoul of Roman law, and according to some accounts rises into heaven instead of dying. What’s ironic about Christ mythicists suggesting Apollonius was real and Christ wasn’t is first that they would trust the majority of scholars in this case but not in the other. Indeed it is believed that Apollonius of Tyana did exist, as there are sources independent of Philostratus, including a certain 3rd or 4th century inscription, the Adama Inscription, as well as manuscript sources that Philostratus relied on. However, the sources for Apollonius’s existence suffer from the very same issues, or more! Philostratus was writing in the 220s or the 230s, it’s believed, and that’s far later removed from Apollonius’s lifetime than the gospels were from Christ’s. Like the gospel sources, Philostratus’s sources have now been lost, and one of them, a diary written by one of Apollonius’s acolytes, is believed by many scholars to have been a fictional source made up by Philostratus as a kind of literary device. There are numerous letters supposedly written by Apollonius himself, but some or all of these have also been argued to be later pseudepigraphal works. In some ways, evidence for the existence of Apollonius is weaker than that for Jesus. It simply shows a confirmation bias that mythicists would look at these two figures and argue that the gospels must have actually been about Apollonius, someone who is never even said to have visited Judea, rather than reaching the far more sensible conclusion that the similarities were a result of Philostratus, who was writing later, cribbing from the gospel traditions when he mythologized Apollonius. Interestingly, when mythicists draw this comparison, they are following a long tradition of anti-Christian polemicists going all the way back to the late 3rd century, when Porphyry of Tyre, in his work Against the Christians, argued that the Apollonius story showed that the miracles and achievements of Jesus were not unique or special. And in the early 4th century, during Diocletian’s brutal persecution of Christians, Sossianus Hierocles claimed that Apollonius was an even greater miracle worker than Jesus. But even they didn’t hazard the argument that Jesus was not a real person.

A 2nd century Greco-Roman medallion depicting Apollonius of Tyana, further independent evidence of his historical existence.

I think that, as with my refutation of the entheogen theory of religion, some who have come to view this podcast and my thinking as anti-Christian or anti-religion may be surprised by my spirited defense of the historicity of Christ. But anyone who closely follows my work should recognize that my bias, if we can call it a bias, is to lean heavily in favor of critical thought, reliable evidence, and scholarly consensus. I’ve had my pitfalls, made mistakes regarding what sources I rely on, etc., and I try to own up to them, but I always make a strong effort, in what little time I have to research each episode, to present not only the main points of arguments I think are wrong, but also the evidence that refutes them. Even though I am agnostic with atheist sensibilities, I have no qualms about arguing that Jesus Christ existed historically because the evidence supports that conclusion. This does not, however, mean that I believe he did indeed perform all the miracles attributed to him, that he rose from the dead or that he was in any way more than human. That, of course, is another argument altogether, and more a matter of faith than of history or even science. Interestingly, my view of Jesus Christ is essentially the early Christian view of every other god. There is a name for this argument: euhemerism, named after the 4th-century BCE Greek mythographer Euhemerus. Euhemerism is the argument that the gods of mythology were once just normal men and women, and as their stories were told and retold over time, they became exaggerated, made fantastical, until finally they were deified. Ironically, early Christian apologists themselves relied on euhemerism in their efforts to discredit pagan beliefs. Rather than argue that Zeus and Osiris were entirely made up, they simply said that they were more likely to have been normal men, or kings, perhaps, who were later mythologized into something more. All I would suggest, then, is that the same could be said about their man Jesus Christ, who certainly was a living human being, and perhaps the single most influential spiritual teacher in human history, if nothing else.

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Until next time, ask yourself if, a couple thousand years from now, people might not have a hard time finding concrete evidence that you yourself existed.

 

Further Reading

Crossan, John Dominic. Jesus: A Revolutionary Biography. HarperSanFrancisco, 1994.

Einhorn, Lena. The Jesus Mystery: Astonishing Clues to the True Identities of Jesus and Paul. The Lyons Press, 2007.

Ehrman, Bart D. Did Jesus Exist? The Historical Argument for Jesus of Nazareth. HarperOne, 2012.

Ehrman, Bart D. Jesus: Apocalyptic Prophet of the New Millennium. Oxford University Press, 1999.

Johnson, Luke Timothy. The Real Jesus: The Misguided Quiest fort he Historical Jesus and the Truth of the Traditional Gospels. HarperSanFrancisco, 1996.

Meier, John P. A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus. Volume One: The Roots of the Problem and the Person. Doubleday, 1991.

Meier, John P. A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus. Volume Two: Mentor, Message, and Miracles. Doubleday, 1991.

Sanders, E. P. The Historical Figure of Jesus. Penguin, 1993.