Along the path to cultural and environmental demise, the Rapa Nui continued their obsession with carving and emplacing those famous giant stone heads along cliffs. Do we really know why they did what they did, why they spent time, resources, and energy on carvings that might have contributed to their island’s overexploitation and their own cultural decline? Maybe they carved the heads as monuments both religious and civil, but their emplacement on cliffs overlooking the sea might also have been a warning not to approach the island, saying, in effect, “Don’t come here; we don’t have room for you. We prefer our intellectual isolation and infighting.” Is there another interpretation? Sure. Maybe the Rap Nui set those faces seaward to express a forlornness they could never overcome on a treeless island whose deforestation they caused in making fires for heat and cooking, for sleds and rollers to move their moai, or in building shelters that fell rapidly into decay after a civil war.
And that’s where we share behavior and intellect with the Rapa Nui. Seems that we’ve constructed mental moai on our isolated islands of subcultures, philosophies, politics, religions, or cliques. Even when our efforts are ultimately futile, we continue to carve, move, emplace, and erect our moai. And no future generation will understand our passion for constructing our moai and facing them toward the boundlessness of eternity. They will look upon those remnants of our culture and say, “All this effort, and for what?” Can we find consolation in knowing that they, too, will spend time, resources, and efforts in constructing their own moai?*
*After I wrote this blog, the following research was published: Sarah C. Sherwood, Jo Anne Van Tilburg, Casey R. Barrier, Mark Horrocks, Richard K. Dunn, José Miguel Ramírez-Aliaga. New excavations in Easter Island's statue quarry: Soil fertility, site formation and chronology. Journal of Archaeological Science, 2019; 111: 104994 DOI: 10.1016/j.jas.2019.104994