Sir Arthur John Evans, the legendary British archaeologist who unearthed the wonders of the Knossos Palace/Temple, had the most profound effect on what we currently understand of the lost civilization he dubbed “Minoan.” As is so often the case, however, true understanding is dynamic. So often, more is learned from our mistakes than from our initial concepts. There’s a saying attributed to Confucious (Kǒng Fūzi, 559-471 BCE) that seems to apply:
“If names are not correct, language will not be in accordance with the truth of things.”
One would think, by now, that the wonderful world Evans and his successors uncovered so far should at least be appropriately named. Perhaps as we begin to better understand their religion, the true depth and breadth of their influence, and their daily routines, their legacy may enlighten us all. In time, the as-yet-uncovered secrets of the Keftiu may reveal an unexpected truth.
The Realm Keftiu
The enigmatic thalassocracy that dominated Aegean and Eastern Mediterranean maritime trade from about 3,500 BCE was dubbed “Minoan” by Evans because of the legend of King Minos and the myth of the Minotaur. However, like many Evans assertions about this extraordinary civilization, those people were not Minoan, nor were they any other flickery mirage reflected by Victorian-era predispositions.
As Aegean archaeologists now readily admit, the people who ruled the seas in the Bronze Age called themselves Keftiu. Outside their realm, in the ancient inscriptions from Egypt, Mari, and Ugarit, the name was sometimes translated as Kaptara, Caphtor, or kftı͗w (Egyptian). In a paper entitled “Keftiu in Context: Theban Tomb-Paintings As a Historical-Source,” the renowned archaeologist Diamantis Panagiotopoulos shed light on the fact there seems to be an impenetrable wall between what is currently known of these Keftiu and who they were.
“One century has now elapsed since the identification of Keftiu with Cretans and at first glance, after this long period of intensive research, there seems to be little hope of contributing any original ideas on the subject.”
This lack of ideas, the dead end of rebuilding Keftiu even in the abstract, reflects in almost every realm of the study of Evan’s Minoans. Nowhere is this more evident than in the imminent archaeologist’s concepts of Keftiu (Minoan) religion. Evans believed and professed that the Aegean Bronze Age religion was some primitive stage of development or aniconic (without icons) because the “Keftiu” could not conceive of deities in anthropomorphic (human) form.
The famous archaeologist also believed he had evidence that showed the evolution of their religion to anthropomorphism. Evens surmised that later Minoan religious artifacts/practices were a natural progression from a pagan religion to a more complex belief system. What he discovered, I believe, was the breaking point between Keftiu’s belief system and Mycenaen’s assimilation. Evans’ ideas have been mirrored many times by other experts.
Animism: As Natural as Nature
Somehow, early researchers could not envision what Polish archaeologist Bogdan Rutkowski claimed in “The Cult Places of the Aegean.” Instead, he surmised that Keftiu (Minoan) anthropomorphic deities were contemporary with aniconic cult objects. He believed that human deities and the natural world (animism) cohabited and were the core of Keftiu religion.
In a paper entitled “Virtual Reality: Tree Cult and Epiphanic Ritual in Aegean Glyptic Iconography,” Caroline J. Tully suggests the Keftiu religion was physiomorphic, theriomorphic, and anthropomorphic. Contrary to what Evans and the others professed, Tully suggests that the imagery we have of the Keftiu ritual is “expressive of a communicative relationship between a human figure and the animate landscape.” Her further assessments of the significance of trees in the Keftiu ritual are extraordinary and fascinating to ponder.
For instance, Tully insinuates that trees in these ritual depictions are not simply animate but may represent an “other-than-human person.” The implication is this is perhaps a nymph or some other anthropomorphic deity. The professor goes on to justify, to a degree, the hypothesis and theories of Evans and others but comes to the conclusion that Minoan religion is best “described as “nature” religion that was experienced through the mediation of elite human performance.”
Still, it seems like something vital is missing. What of the magnetism of Crete that so many speak of even today? In reading dozens of these papers over the years, I’ve noticed a common facet that seems to always be underemphasized. These palace/temples, the sacred sanctuaries, and even the religious landmarks that sit atop the successive layers of Crete history all seem to be what are termed “places of power.”
The Essential Inquiry
In an article by Natasha Sheldon for History and Archaeology Online, the author mentions the sacred trees depicted in Keftiu frescoes as a living tree often planted in a sacred enclosure inside palaces/temples. This fact reminded me of several trips we made to Galatas Palace in the heart of Heraklion Prefecture. And in recalling the ruins of the palace on that high hilltop in the Minoan Pediata, an emphatic symbol dominates the skyline. The image below is one I took for a feature story in the Epoch Times in New York. Does the goddess still watch over this place of power? Her shade protects a shrine and the great hall in the east wing of the palace/temple, if I am not disoriented.
It will interest the reader to know similar trees appear within or just outside ritual places at other Keftiu sites. A huge plane tree (if I remember) casts its shade over the Temple of Rhea area and most of the prepalatial sections in the south of the palace/temple at Phaistos. Both Knossos and Malia have numerous wonderful trees, the largest of which seem to tower over the west courts. Knossos has, by far, the tallest trees dotting the landscape. At Zakros in the far east of Crete, and at Monastiraki in the heart of Rethymno Prefecture, interesting examples exist, which I will cover after more research.
My point is, doesn’t it seem worthwhile to try and discover what made these places of power so magnetic for the Keftiu religion? I’ve not discovered such an inquiry. Perhaps this is because scientists feign anything trending toward the mystical. But failing to investigate this aspect of these enigmatic people is another barrier to understanding. If the “power” they felt and ritualized in these places was so crucial for them, how can true scientists ignore the same appealing ideas?
Image Credits: Phaistos Disc – Courtesy Josef Laimer
