The tietäjä is a variety of ritual specialist who interacts with the otherworld primarily through incantations. This institution is a Finno-Karelian phenomenon not found in Ingria, although changes which took place in the tradition ecology of Ingria may have eradicated evidence of it (§4.9). Siikala‟s extensive examination of the institution of the
tietäjä follows in a sense on her extensive study of traditions of Sub-Arctic and Central
Asian shamanism, assessing how the traditions of Finno-Karelians relate to those of other Finno-Ugric and Altaic peoples.175 Her approach to tietäjä traditions extends from a fully
175
See esp. Siikala 1978. The title of Siikala‟s (2002a) monograph, Mythic Images and Shamanism: A
Perspective on Kalevala Poetry, and that of its earlier Finnish version, Suomalainen Šamanismi: Mielikuvien Historiaa (1992), “Finnish Shamanism: A History of Mental Images”, make this association
developed overview of both kalevalaic poetry generally and also non-poetic material associated with magic and the tietäjä institution more specifically (the vast majority of which remains unpublished). This is developed into analyses of how different aspects of the tradition function and interrelate, and how they vary and change. The study is continuously built outward into comparisons and contrasts with Sámi, Germanic, Baltic and Slavic traditions in relation to the development of different forms of Christianity in the Finno-Karelian region, guiding readers through the labyrinth of scholarship as she assesses how these processes of cultural interactions and developments are reflected in the historical and archaeological records.
Siikala argues that the institution of the tietäjä emerged in the first millennium of the present era (although the process may have already begun earlier) as a reflex to the radical cultural changes which were taking place during a period when Germanic cultural influences were dominant. She focuses on the Viking Age and the centuries shortly prior to it on the basis of the concentration of loan-words related to ethnic beliefs and magical activity, the cultural relevance of motifs, and archaeological evidence, observing that the institution may have begun to emerge much earlier. It should be stressed that Siikala is not saying that the tietäjä is a Germanic tradition, nor is she asserting a single coherent infusion of Germanic culture and traditions, but rather that traditions were subject to an ebb and flow of cultural contact and exchange which had been ongoing to various degrees since the emergence of “Finnic” and “Germanic” linguistic-cultural groups. Rather than a sort of translation and transplantation of traditions, Siikala‟s discussion describes a far more dynamic historical process within a complex dialectical or dialogic matrix of cultural interaction.
According to Koivulehto (1984:202), the influence of Germanic languages “began sometime before the year 1000 B.C.,” and has been ongoing from that period “apparently
without great interruption”.176
He emphasizes that these are not simply words for cultural
176
For an approachable survey of early Germanic loans in Finnish, see Hofstra 1985. Cf. also the the list of Germanic words appearing in the index of Suomen kielen etymologinen sanakirja (SKES:2176-2248), noting that the comprehensiveness of this work increased as the work progressed, and there are rather remarkably few entries for the first third of the Finnish lexicon, covered in ca. 250 pages.
practices and technologies, but include e.g. words for the body, such as otsa, “forehead”,
kupeet, “loins”, lantio/lanteet, “hip/hips”, hartia, “shoulder”, maha, “belly, stomach”. A
significant number of examples – e.g. kansa, “people, folk” (cf. Gothic hansa, “troop, crowd”, also OE hōs, OHG hansa: Kylstra et al. 1992.II:38-39) – are striking not only for their position in the Finnish and Karelian lexicons, but also because cognates are not attested in ON. Other examples are striking because the Germanic term assumes an authority over the earlier Finnic equivalent, as äiti, “mother” (cf. Gothic aiþei, ON eiða [only in poetry]) did over the simplex emo, which shifted to use for animals rather than people.177 The scope and magnitude of Germanic impact led Juntune (1994:91) to the rather weighty proposal: “one might say that Finnish is a germanicized Finno-Ugric language.”
The Germanic impact on magical and ritual activity emerges clearly in the lexicon: e.g.
runo, “song in kalevalaic verse, poem”, and an archaic agentive usage for “a singer of runot” (cognate ON rún);178 arpa, “lot” with connotations of magic or fate;179 lumota, “to bewitch” (cognate Norwegian dialect kluma, “to make speechless, to lame” [Proto-Norse
*klumōn]; cf. Norwegian klums, “as turned to stone, (as) spellbound”);180
manata, “exorcise [using words], curse, summon before the law” (cognate OE manian, “to
177 This can be compared to the hierarchy of registers in English associated with a contrast between
etymologies rooted in Germanic or Latinate vocabularies.
178 SKES:863-865; SSA.III:104; cf. Gothic rūna, “secret”, OI rún, “secret knowledge, spell, mark of the
runic alphabet”. The agentive form is only preserved in the poetic register as a parallel term for laulaja, “singer”, and tietäjä, and among the Vermland Finns (Toivonen 1944:189-190). In the Vermland Finnish dialect, the only meaning of runoi is “noita, tietäjä” (ibid.), and they also maintain a verb runoa, covering the semantic field of “sorcery, spell-casting and cursing” (SKES:864; Siikala 2002a:279-280 ).
179 SKES:24-25; SSA.I:83; Kylstra et al. 1992.I:36-37; cf. ON arfr, “inheritance”, ör (GEN örv-ar),
“arrow”. An agentive form appears to underlie the plural noun aрбуǔ[arbui] in a letter written by Archbishop Makari in 1553, where he complains that these pagan aрбуǔ are wielders of magic and children are first taken to them to be given a name before being taken to a priest for baptism (see Kirkinen 1970:130-131, where it is translated as “arpoja”, “one who casts lots; diviner”; cf. Siikala 2002a:80). The form appears to be either a Slavic plural inflection of *arba, a pronunciation of arpa familiar from the Aunus region, or potentially an agentive form *arpoi (cf. agentive runo/runoi above) without inflection in the Slavic text. In either case, the agentive warrants comparison with runo/runoi. This usage of aрбуǔ is paralleled by Mari[Cheremis] arbuj, “pagan priest, shaman” (relationship uncertain) which could potentially reflect a larger isogloss in which geographically intermediate languages have gone extinct (cf. Tolley 2009:31) and could relate to the lexeme entering as a loan very early, potentially during the Bronze Age (cf. Siikala 2002a:130.
remind”),181
luote, “incantation” associated with “shamanic” unconscious trance states (cognate ON blót, “pagan sacrificial ritual”);182 uhri, “sacrifice” (cognate ON offr, “sacrifice”);183
lunto, “fate, nature, instinct, wish, luck, magical power” (cognate ON
lyndi, “temperament”);184 haltija, “local or warder spirit”, which blurred with supernatural beings summoned in magic (nomen agentis from a verb cognate with ON
halda, “to hold, keep, possess”; cf. ON vörðr, “guardian spirit”),185 and have been reshaped in modern conceptions through identification with the “elves” of J.R.R. Tolkien (cf. Gunnell 2006:322). The specific period of individual lexemes entering the language is often difficult to assess. Etymologies provide a somewhat illusory security,186 as many individual etymologies may be questioned and debated,187 and it is still more difficult to discern whether the semantic development of such terms may have also been reshaped in this process.188 However, the etymological evidence as a body is clearly indicative of intimate cultural contact and exchange in multilingual environments.
181 SSA.II:146; Kylstra et al. 1992.II:249; cf. SKES:332-333. Siikala (2002a:92) translates the substantive
noun manaus as “invocation”, observing that they “approach their subject using direct speech.”
182 SKES:313; SSA.II:110; Kylstra et al. 1992.II:129-130; the derivation from *blōta, ON blót (see Haavio
1952:76-77, 118-120), as well as its cognates among the Sámi, as verbal performance accompanying ritual sacrifice incantations has been challenged as a vernacular heritage from shamanic traditions (Pentikäinen 2004:446-449; see §14.4.2), but the corresponding loanword lovi, “notch, cleft, hole”, used in the idiomatic expression, longeta loveen, “to fall into an unconscious trance”, which is specifically associated with shamanic activity (Siikala 2002a:260-263; Frog 2009a:15-16; Kylstra et al. 1992.II:220-221; SSA.II:98; cf.
SKES:305; cf. also huuma, „ecstasy, senseless state‟: Kylstra et al. 1992.I:129) problematizes any attempt to
separate the question of linguistic impact from heritage associated with “shamanic” activity. This difficulty is compounded by our limited knowledge of early Germanic magical and ritual practices: for example, our understanding of the semantic field of blót may be shaped in part by an impoverished of understanding of the relationships between sacrifice, the surrounding ritual, accompanying oral performance or speech-acts, and typologies of possession trance (cf. Gunnell 1995; Tolley 2009).
183
SKES:1517; SSA.III:367.
184 SSA.II:104; Kylstra et al. 1992.II:227-228.
185 SKES:52-53; SSA.I:134; Kylstra et al. 1992.I:72,74-75; Siikala 2002a:251-253; Tolley2009:244-245. 186 This is largely owing to our faith in etymology as a “science” naturalized to a mythic status of authority
for the determination and codification of “truths” which are far more frail and tenuous than we would prefer to admit (see further Barthes 1972, Feyerabend 1993).
187 This is emphasized by a number of cases in which an etymological relationship is extremely possible,
but so early that the evidence is completely ambiguous, as in the case of kalma, “death, corpse, illness” (cf. OE cwealm: Kylstra et al. 1992.II:24-25). In a few cases, there is also the possibility of the reverse influence: see for example Kylstra et al. (1992.II:25) on kalma 2, “grave(mound)”, which exhibits a potential correspondence in a runic inscription in Sweden and recent dialect word kalm, “stone mound”, but the Germanic term is not otherwise attested.
188
For example, Harris (2009b:489-492) has recently addressed the strata of Finnish cognates with ON
jötunn, “giant”. He points out that the Finnish etana, “snail, bad or ugly person”, appears to share the
semantic field of the Germanic cognates in its poetic or metaphorical usages as a derogatory term meaning “enemy, bad or hostile person” (Kylstra et al. 1992.I:57). Harris‟s discussion opens the question of whether
When approaching motifs and structures in incantations we rarely have the advantage of etymological evidence in the linguistic sense, although the process of comparison is similar. However, the first point to take into consideration is that the incantation tradition itself as a primary means for interacting with the unseen world is not Finno-Ugric, nor shared with the Sámi, nor regionally with Balts, nor even with Estonians – it is not Finnic, but rather Northern Finnic, or specifically Finno-Karelian. This stands in contrast to other Finno-Ugric cultures which maintained forms of “shamanism”, and also in contrast to evidence that some form of “shamanism” was earlier practiced among Finno- Karelians (below). The use of incantations as a primary means of interaction with the unseen world is therefore difficult to attribute to either the cultural heritage of Finnic peoples or other areal aspects of cultural contact. Nonetheless, it is the exception rather than the rule to find specific etymologies arguably relevant to a particular motif even as a proper name,189 although the changing technologies associated with the Iron Age and changes in the cultural milieu carried with them are intimately tied to changes which took place in motifs and narrative elements in the mythological traditions.190
Honko (1959a:127-129; 1960:67-71) observed a parallel or connection between “soul- loss” as an explanatory cause of illness and cultural environments which maintain ecstatic techniques associated with shamanism.191 This is not surprising when the strategies used for reciprocal communication with the unseen world in “shamanism” are often
the recorded value of etana was reshaped through later Germanic contact rather than entering the language in its metaphorical usage.
189
An exception would be the fishing for Leviathan/Miðgarðsormr narrative in which the base-word of the monster‟s name is “Tursas”, cf. ON þurs, “giant” (Setälä 1932b, 1932c).
190 Smithing in particular has received attention in this regard: see Sarmela 1994, Hakamies 1999, Anttonen
2000. It is worth bearing in mind that, for example, an account of smithing the heavens without leaving a mark with the hammer cannot be relevant or meaningful in a context where smithing is not known. Similarly, systems of magical associations surrounding “iron” can be reasonably considered to have emerged or been introduced and evolved since the rise of this metal‟s cultural presence and activity. The word, rauta, “iron”, is a Germanic loan from the term for “bog ore”, cf. ON rauði (Juntune 1994:90;
SKES:750-751; SSA.III:57). This invites comparison with Iron’s Origin, in which the mythic smith
Ilmarinen is central and includes practical information for how to recognize the presence of bog ore for the creation of the first iron. Although the historiola is clearly dependent on the introduction of technologies for iron production, it is ambiguous whether the mythic origin of the substance was introduced with that technology, emerged independently, or perhaps reflects a much more stratified synthesis of traditions related to iron from around the Circum-Baltic, following on centuries of interaction.
191 “Soul-loss” is the loss of a vital element or force from within the body which must be recovered or
characterized by the movement of spirits/souls between worlds and in and out of bodies (cf. Siikala 1978). “Soul-loss” is an explanatory concept for illness with a remarkably widespread distribution and stereotypical form (Honko 1959a:27-29; 1960:67-71; Siikala 2002a:85). However, Honko (1960: 71-72) points out that motifs associated with “soul- loss” are reflected in Finno-Karelian narrative genres of folklore but do not participate in explanations for illness (cf. Sarmela 1994:125-128). In Karelia, conceptions of illness were developed through notions of the bounded space of the body penetrated by foreign elements or forces associated with other beings, and conceptions of foreign elements sticking to the body: “bodily disorder and illness were seen to originate outside the body rather than from within it” (Stark 2006: 158). The tietäjä does not embark on soul- journeys, nor do his spirit helpers. On the contrary, he verbally dons armour, summons weapons and support – potentially even a legion of the dead – and engages the immediately present illness agent in battle. It is important to realize that in addition to “soul-loss”, “shamanic” cultures also maintained conceptions of penetrated bodies and cured with exorcism strategies comparable to the tietäjä’s (Siikala 2002a:92). Correspondingly, the verbal manipulation of and interactions with inhabitants of the unseen world are not so different from shamanic traditions in which the shaman does not lose consciousness and verbally presents the activities of a spirit helper – at least not on
the verbal level of representational actualization and interaction (cf. Siikala 1978). In
other words, soul journeys with penetrable bodies and incantations with impenetrable bodies are not of necessity mutually exclusive.192 This issue will be returned to in §14.4.2. For the present it is sufficient to observe that the incantations which make the
tietäjä tradition distinct are associated with a system of illness diagnostics which
excludes “soul-loss” in spite of continuous close contacts with the Sámi, noting that this exclusion does not appear to have been maintained as strictly in more southerly areas where the European “soul-mouse” is found (see Sarmela 1994:125). In other words, the rise of incantations does not simply appear to be the emergence of a new tool in the arsenal of the ritual specialist, it appears associated with a distinct conceptual system.
192
The tietäjä concentrates his activities around an immediately present illness agent, but it should be observed that he also demands and compels the assistance of powerful supernatural beings in remote otherworld locations of the unseen world, such as Ukko (the thunder god), Väinämöinen, Jesus, the Virgin Mary, the mistress of pains, and so forth.
Siikala‟s treatment of motifs and their backgrounds considers both incantation and epic, which unfold the mythic, unseen world, the narrative world maintained by the poetic system (cf. Tarkka 1993, 2005). She stresses that the first millennium of the present era was a period of tremendous social and cultural change. For example, she argues that the transition to increasingly agrarian settlements radically impacted the relationship of populations to the landscape,193 and that Germanic cultural traditions provided models for conceptions of local realms of the dead (as distinct from remote otherworld locations to reach which shamans undertake soul-journeys), much as they provided models for burial practices in the archaeological record. These traditions seem either to have carried with them or provided viable conditions for the development of traditions of necromancy reflected in both magical practice and mythological narrative (Visiting Vipunen,
Lemminkäisen Virsi), with correspondences to interviews with dead völur in Norse
traditions (Völuspá, Baldrs draumar, Hyndluljóð) as well as evidence of battle magic (Siikala 2002a:esp.121-194, 307-310; Tolley 2009; cf. Price 2002). The relationships between these, and the range of other motifs discussed by Siikala, appear generally typological in their documented manifestations. She emphasizes their evolution and expansion within the Finno-Karelian cultural milieu, and just as the lexicon exhibits heavily stratified layers of cultural impacts, adaptations and revisions, so to the motifs persisting and manipulated in the poetic and ritual traditions.
The general milieu of a significant amount of mythological epic material has long been associated with the Viking Age largely on the basis of typological comparisons with the corresponding cultural milieu (e.g. Lid 1949, Kuusi 1963). Siikala‟s investigation treats these levels of the comparison, but is more concerned with the emergence and development of the deep structures and associations which exhibit various and dynamic manifestations, as for example in her discussions of motifs associated with battle and warfare which are intimately bound up with the tietäjä’s incantations and rituals. She observes that the verbal “armour” which the tietäjä summons as a means of making his body impenetrable in his battle with illness, stands in contrast to the shaman who dons his
193 Although cultivation and associated animal husbandry was first introduced into coastal regions as early
as ca. 1500 B.C., it remained restricted to coastal area around the Gulf of Finland, the Baltic Sea and also Lake Ladoga. It only gradually spread inland during the Viking Age and Late Iron Age. (Sarmela 1987)
costume for a journey to the otherworld, and the system of images and complexes of motifs betray a cultural context in which battle and warfare was not only relevant, but associated sufficiently with the tietäjä institution to provide the framework for his incantations and interactions with the unseen world (Siikala 2002a:348). The role of Ukko, the thunder god (gradually blurring into the Christian God), in supplying weapons, armour and support is compared to the role of Þórr, both in narrative roles of confronting giants, and in presenting aid and support in healing incantations and other magic (Siikala 2002a:203-208).194 Siikala points out that the type of trance used by the tietäjä seems to parallel descriptions of berserkr warriors,195 with the interesting suggestion that if these mysterious Germanic figures went into battle without armour, they may have donned similar “imaginary battle gear” (Siikala 2002a:248); it might be noted that the magically impenetrable body appears to have been a key feature in Germanic battle magic (§9.3.2.1). In itself, this comparison is typological, yet Siikala produces parallels for the Finno-Karelian magical precautionary measures in Germanic (non-metrical) incantations used to prepare for legal conflict (Siikala 2002a:289-292).196 She observes that, “[b]attle metaphors required a set of oppositions for their frame of reference, and were well adapted to a milieu in which the prevailing explanatory model for misfortune was malevolent sorcery” (Siikala 2002a:348). The lexicon indicates a Germanic impacts on Finno-Karelian culture in these areas,197 but Siikala‟s concern is that the institution of the
tietäjä and the incantations and rite techniques associated with it are symptomatic of a
comprehensive revision of the conceptual system and patterns of mythological thinking,198 and that “[t]he mythical tradition is continuous over the long term and it takes time for a strong tradition layer such as [this] to become established” (Siikala 2002a:326).
194 This typological parallel belongs to the system of Circum-Baltic thunder-god traditions (cf. Tolley 2009;