Review of Rongorongo: Inscribed Objects from Rapa Nui

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Notes

1 Lt. Commander Data in “Lonely among Us”; quoted show-time 09.14 – 09.16 (minutes / seconds), in Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987), Season 1, Episode 7, https://m.imdb/title/tt0708743/.

2 An issue with a number of rongorongo researchers is the “selective study”, i.e., being (for reasons unclear to us) conveniently inclusive or exclusive of earlier or much earlier bibliographic sources. To provide another example: Horley (2021, 45) upon attempting to identify “the signs in the damaged areas” across the artifacts, codifies symbolically the “lacunae of different length” via three points of suspension / dots “. . .”. Rongorongo scholars are aware that Barthel (1958) made use of the “hatching marks” for such damaged / worn out areas. Nevertheless, we should not be oblivious to the fact that before the application of the points of suspension by Fischer (1997) and Horley (2021), Alan S. C. Ross (1940, 557; cf. Melka and Schoch 2020, 519, fn. 66), in his devised transliteration of the “Small Washington tablet”, suggested that “dots (. . . . . .) indicate a part of the tablet much defaced, but one in which it may nevertheless reasonably be assumed that there once were signs”. On the one hand, Horley fails to mention this use of “. . .” by Ross (1940). On the other hand, Horley (2021, 308) distinctly refers to Ross (1940, 557) when it comes to his plates I and II regarding “Barthel’s [1958] sides Ra and Rb”.

3 Another plausible reason as to why Horley (2021) did not include or reprint photographs of all of the objects is that in each entry dedicated to the rongorongo artifacts, Fischer (1997) has a subsection titled “ILLUSTRATIONS” where he guides the readership to the bibliographic sources containing (or not) applicable photographs. Yet, not even S. R. Fischer referenced thoroughly the entire spectrum of photographs; two pre-1997 instances – among others – are: a black-and-white image of a section of “Tahua tablet” in Bellwood (1979 [1978], 375, Fig, 12.38); neither Fischer (1997, 409) nor Horley (2021, 57–80) mention this source. The second example concerns side b (= verso) of the “Small Vienna tablet”, nicely illustrated in black-and-white in Poignant (1967, 26–27); again, both Fischer (1997, 500) and Horley (2021, 243–48) omitted this source. The grounds as to why the mentioned photographs or other ones (not listed here) are left out in both specialized monographs are a matter of conjecture.

4 Contra the generic use of the descriptor “unrefined” here, it should be remembered that Barthel (1958, 21) assessed the glyphs of the “Chauvet fragment” as having “…a very raw, awkward style” (for the original statement in German and full translation, see Melka and Schoch 2020, 510, fn. 48).

5 Similar to other matters in rongorongo studies, depending on how a short or long parallel “sequence” or “passage” is understood / defined by the quoted authors (Fischer 1997; Horley 2021), one does not pin down exact “copies” across the rongorongo corpus of the “Chauvet fragment” inscription. Bigrams and (and to a lesser degree) allomorphic trigrams, however, are attested elsewhere; cf. Harris (2009). Allomorphs or allographs are “…scribal variations of a single sign” (Coe 1995).

6 The original attribution to the shaft of an Easter Island ua staff is found in Ropiteau (1936 [1935], 523), “N° B 3622,” “– tablette de 28 - 3,5 - 1: elle est en assez mauvais état, un côté a été carbonisé. Tout a été effacé, sauf une ligne de 22 caractères. Deux caractères, qui semblent plus modernes, ont été grattés d’un côté, sans doute avec une pointe d’acier. Cette tablette serait le plat d’un ‘ua’: elle provient de la collection J. L. Young” [‘Inv. No. B.3622,’ – a tablet with 28 × 3.5 × 1 (dimensions in inches): it is in a rather bad condition, one side is charred (i.e., burnt). All (content) is worn away except for a line of 22 signs. Two signs, more modern in their (exterior) look, have been incised undoubtedly on one side with a pointed steel implement. This tablet would have been the blade (i.e., shaft) of an ‘ua’ (staff); it was part of the collection of J(ames) L(yle) Young].

7 When assessing the 20-plus glyphs occurring on this artifact, van Hoorebeeck (ibid.) found “…le tout de facture classique […all of them to be of a classical manufacture (i.e., of a pre-missionary, fine style)]. In contrast, the present reviewers think the original author did the bare minimum at carving such glyphs, and their rudimentary execution pales in comparison with the scribal skill revealed in a number of classical tablets (cf. “Aruku Kurenga”, “Great St. Petersburg”, or “Small Washington”).

8 Melka and Schoch (2020, 509) noted that “…the matter [of authenticity] may not be definitely settled yet, especially for the “Chauvet Fragment” and the “Paris Snuffbox”. As of 2022/23, we have come to believe the statement still holds firmly.

9 For the record, one of these objects is a wooden tahonga – “ball” / “egg”-shaped pendant – (inv. no. “SS.CC P014” in the collection of SS.CC’s Congregation, Rome, Italy); see M. Orliac and C. Orliac (2008, 212-13, Figs. 154 and 155). It bears a double-headed bird-like glyph , coded as /680/ in Barthel (1958, 145; see e.g., a parallel on section Hr8 – among various others across the canonical corpus). If we proceed with its deconstruction, three elements are noted: /678:546:678/, making it eligible for a rongorongo artifact. What does this amount to eventually? Taken as a whole, the “authentic corpus” will be doubled or tripled in no time, while the debate about their status will be in full swing with the corresponding degree of discord.

10 Since the way of counting glyphs is an intermittent discrepancy in Horley (2021), we have reason to dispute this numerical assignation. Specifically, whether the compound /46.76/ on the “Rangitoki barkcloth fragment” responds quantitatively to a single unit = one glyph, Schoch and Melka (2019, 414) inventories it as a composite made of two (2) glyphs / elements. Contrariwise, a perfect palindrome structure attested on section Na3 (= Nr3) of the “Small Vienna tablet” (Barthel 1958, 164; Melka 2014, 154–57) is composed of eleven (11) elements /1.6-522-1.62-600-62.1-522-6.1/ (see Horley 2021, 248). Following Paul Horley’s logic applied to the “Rangitoki barkcloth fragment”, we are given to understand this section on Na3 (= Nr3) should explicitly have seven (7) glyphs. In actuality, Horley (2021, 44–45) recognizes the eventual “polemics” his method may cause among researchers, and even suggests a “compromise”; yet, the malleability (= inconsistency) of its application makes us unwilling to place too much confidence in it.

11 In all probability there existed master templates in different hare rongorongo (i.e., rongorongo “schools”) across the island where face-to-face interaction (i.e., learning) took place. Due to the (very) limited surviving items, it is difficult to state in tangible terms the number and geographic distribution, glyphic length, “literary” genres involved, and/or the age (i.e., temporal variation) of such templates. Except for their plausible scribal finesse, we concede that various matters being considered would be fraught with speculations. Seen in this light, the practice of reiterative / intermittent copying or reworking of the templates, whether in full or partial manner, must have not been out of the question (see especially “Chapter 29” in Fischer 1997, 340–47).

12 After carbon dating the “Small Petersburg tablet”, M. Orliac and C. Orliac (2008, 251) noted, “D’autres datations permettraient peut-être de répondre à la question de l’antiquité des rongorongo, ou au moins de celle de leur support” [Other (C¹⁴ dating) procedures would perhaps allow (us) to answer the question of the antiquity of rongorongo (phenomenon / tradition) or at least the antiquity of their (material) supports]. (Material in round brackets our insertion.) We admit this is a subject of poignant interest (cf. Melka 2009, 123), and – correspondingly – we are not unenthusiastic regarding the C¹⁴ prospects (Orliac and Orliac ibid.). However, the potential to advance the project of radiocarbon analysis of rongorongo artifacts should be seen in a wider perspective, and not opportunely confined to a single item. For example, one may rightly wonder if the artifact known as “W: Honolulu fragment” (inv. no. B.00445) held at Bernice P. Bishop Museum, Honolulu, Hawai‘i; see Métraux (1940, 393); Imbelloni (1951, 104, XXII); Barthel (1958, 32); van Hoorebeeck (1979, 254); Fischer (1997, 464–65); Horley (2021, 343), whose current preservation status is appalling (= extremely fragile), is amenable to such C¹⁴ dating.

13 As part of this picture, regarding “the existence of [different; our insertion] scribal ‘schools’” in pre-missionary Rapa Nui, Fischer (1997, 347) noted, “[The great chief; our insertion] Nga‘ara and the other tuhunga tā [expert scribes; our insertion] apparently constantly travelled throughout the island inspecting, correcting, and producing rongorongo artefacts. If anything, one must acknowledge inscriptional uniformity to a surprising degree. The ‘rongorongo schools’ levelled, they did not sever”.

14 Not to quibble but it remains to be seen if other glyphs do or do not convey any reference to “birdmen”. One is left to wonder if glyph /610/ (in Barthel 1958) is indeed not a schematic illustration of the “birdman” champion or of any major agent involved in the birdman ritualistic cult (cf. Melka and Schoch 2021b, 409).

15 Beyond such points, another compelling argument – not without merit – is the chronology of the pictorial-like rongorongo script, to be associated with a shallow versus a considerable time-depth (see Emory 1972, Bellwood 1979 [1978], Fischer 1997 versus Guy 1985, Horley 2005, Melka 2009). The pre-formative and formative stages of pictorial-like scripts (e.g., ancient Egyptian and Mesopotamian scripts) involve developmental processes spanning hundreds of years (Melka 2017). Furthermore, along this line of argumentation, Melka (2009, 118) stated, “In theory… it is hard to believe that such [an] esthetic and elaborate calligraphy as rongorongo is, ‘… would not have had a period of gestation and development…’ (Robinson 2002) that expanded beyond the first European voyagers [i.e., visitors] and observers”.

16 See Melka (2014, 164), however, for general counter-arguments to such a hypothesis. To take more directly suggestive examples: Robinson (2002, 20) and Mollin (2005, 5) are enlightening when it comes to the decipherment of ancient writing systems versus cryptographic systems / intentionally enciphered written signs.

17 In Robinson (2002, 41–43), the determination of a sign list (in conjunction with a large, testable corpus, the discernment of scribal variants, and the underlying language) are the top priorities when dealing with the decipherment of a non-identified script. Specifically, the author (ibid., 43) points out, “If the signs of an undeciphered script can be correctly classified, with the allographs correctly identified – a big ‘if’, it has to be said – a numbered sign list can be made and each inscription can be written in terms of a sequence of numbers instead of the usual graphic symbols; the inscription can also be classified by computer in a concordance, i.e. a catalogue organized by sign (not by inscription) that under each sign lists every inscription containing the particular sign”.

18 See in a parallel fashion Melka and Schoch (2021a, 151–52), “As such, the strict analysis of two or more co-similar [rongorongo] glyphs, faces the problems of over- and under-distinguishing (i.e., over-differentiation and under-differentiation). In devising a nomenclature (= code-numbering) or in applying statistical measures, either of them tends to lead to errors – the so-called error propagation effect. The question of sign identification (including intended or non-intended distortions / interferences, i.e., the signal-to-noise ratio, in information science terms) is decisive, and constantly dealt with in archaeological decipherment, paleography, and cryptography”.

19 Earlier sources have referenced this specific issue, too; see e.g., Fischer (1997, 609–10, endnote 31), “Nevertheless, it is still unclear whether fusing in rongorongo is done intentionally to save space on the rare wooden pieces or randomly for want of a standardized orthography. The act of graphic fusing itself could comprise one of the artistic skills and prerogatives of the rongorongo scribe”; Macri (1999, 155), “Current estimates show that the combinatory processes of the RR graphemes are not fully understood yet”; and Melka (2017, 12), “Despite previous efforts, the short-term goals [in the rongorongo area] still include the study of (a) …; (b) types, possibilities, and constraints in glyphic fusions; (c)… (d)… (e)… (f)… (g)…”.

20 In a 1971 publication, Barthel (p. 1170) whilst commenting on the “…basic [rongorongo] inventory [of] approximately 120 fundamental constituents” in reference to Grundlagen… (1958), adds, “On the RR tablets 1,500–2,000 compositions [i.e., glyphic combinations, compounded forms] have been derived from these…” (material in brackets our additions).

21 Concerning definitions of the term “code/s” and the difficulty of translating / interpreting them in the frame of writing systems, communicative systems, or other information storage systems, we should redirect attention to Gelb and Whiting (1975, 97, and 101); Morin, Kelly, and Winters (2020, 729–30, and 731–32). Wrixon (1998) and Bauer (2007) remain additional instructive options along the discussed context.

22 We have to temper (our) expectations for the modifier “complete” at this point. Is the term used in the sense the suggested list may be further “expanded” versus “crunched”, or of being “highly theoretical” versus “accurate”?

23 Fischer (1995, 103), while analyzing “triadic series” in several rongorongo inscriptions, posits on a bare-bones level, “There appears to be no set rules in the rongorongo script for standardizing a given phonetic statement. That is to say, there is no rongorongo orthography”.

24 It seems only fair to include here a similar remark made by Gelb and Whiting (1975, 103), “As a test of decipherment, we should insist on the translation of a full text, not simply excerpts. It is frequently possible to provide a persuasive interpretation for a small portion of the text, such as a phrase or even a sentence, but this cannot be a decipherment if the rest of the text is gibberish”.

25 Expanding or narrowing down the pool of rongorongo artifacts is not a matter approvable or solvable in this review rather than a years-long meticulous ongoing process that requires the efforts of many rongorongo research teams or particular individuals. In this vein, e.g., the extremely questionable Sotheby’s 1998 moai kavakava results in a highly eligible status for inclusion in the “authentic” rongorongo “corpus” according to the author (Horley 2021, 398, and 399); yet, no such “luck” at present for the painted glyphs of the “Rangitoki barkcloth fragment”, whose back-story, technical specifications, quality of inscription, and related high resolution photographs do remarkably better than the former artifact. One has to strictly and duly wonder why the odds remain stacked in favor of the Sotheby’s 1998 moai kavakava in the monograph of 2021? The context provides revealing examples on personal “readouts” of rongorongo-inscribed items (not necessarily and exclusively related to the author under consideration).

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Tomi S. Melka

Tomi S. Melka is a researcher generally engaged with the study of real-world human-made writing systems, symbolic systems, and visual expressions. Among the range of such semiotic manifestations, the classic rongorongo of Easter Island is one of his favorites. One particular rongorongo-inscribed object that captures his full admiration is the so-called “Santiago Staff”. TSM considers it sensible to suggest that the anonymous scribe had many other rongorongo objects “under his belt” before proceeding with the carving of the staff. The devotion and time invested in learning and practicing rongorongo on the part of this Rapanui master must have been close to staggering.

Robert M. Schoch

Robert M. Schoch has, since his childhood, been fascinated by ancient and extinct civilizations and their scripts. At one point, he seriously considered pursuing an academic career in ethnology; instead, while never abandoning his love of anthropology, in which he has an undergraduate degree, he earned a Ph.D. in geology and geophysics at Yale University. It was a result of his first visit to Easter Island, in January 2010, that the rongorongo phenomenon became a focus of his attention.