It's (Not) Nice to Meet You!

Recently, I have spent some time with the book Kindred by Rebecca Wragg Sykes. I am not alone in saying I cannot stand purely academic storytelling. The numbers and charts and scientific abbreviations make as much sense to me as reading gibberish. So, I am appreciative when I find something to read that combines the thrill of pulling a reader into a new world and offering insight into the world they see day-to-day. Kindred does that skillfully with Neanderthals, what they have left behind, how they have been studied, and what we can learn from them today. If you can stand my own storytelling–which is certainly not so eloquent as Sykes’-- I would like to spend some time recounting the discovery of Neanderthals, which (surprisingly) was not as monumental as I had previously thought. 

Neanderthals, Sykes explains, are somewhere between 450,000 to 400,000 years old. That is to say, they were as old as woolly mammoths and saber-tooth tigers. Interestingly, we first came to know this in 1868 when Neanderthal bodies were found in the same sediment layer–the mapping of which is called stratigraphy, excuse my scientific language–as a carving done in a mammoth’s tusk. That suggests that the Neanderthals had made the carvings and killed the mammoths before dying beside their art. However, as old as these early people were, their bones were first understood only 169 years ago in 1856. During mining efforts, the Kleine Feldhoffer Cave, just outside of Düsseldorf, Germany, was blown open, and from it came a set of large, human-like, fossilized bones. Later sent to Johann Carl Fuhlrott, the founder of a local natural history club, these remains were sent around Germany before being presented at the General Meeting of the Natural History Society of Prussian Rhineland and Westphalia as some sort of early human. This was not the first discovery; fossils had been found as early as 1829. However, this was the first time the remains were thought of as significant. After all, most had assumed they were just human bones until an observation the same year as the Fuhlrott discovery by multidisciplinary scientist George Busk revealed that the remains were found in the same sediment layer as pre-historic artifacts. Thus, like with the 1868 mammoth tusk, it was determined with the weight of the bones, that Neanderthals–as they eventually came to be known–were ancient pre-humans and had scientific value for their age. No longer were they just oddly large, human bones, but rather a new species altogether.

Many discoveries followed from all around Eurasia, even a full newborn fossil being found in Le Moustier, France, which had miraculously survived a construction crew attempting to build a home over it. This 1914 discovery could have meant something extraordinary in revealing how Neanderthals developed. However, the First World War interrupted any study, and pieces of the skeleton were traded between England and France. That paired with the challenges of distraction, destruction, and disarray caused by war stalled much research. There is also some humor in discovering that Neanderthals had larger heads– this during a time when social Darwinism stated a larger head meant more intelligence. So, further research also meant a hit to the scientists’ pride knowing they were uncovering supposedly more intelligent beings.

 Overall, the discovery was not treated as a treasure. It was slow work to understand the significance of the fossil discoveries, the ones that were found often went missing, and the mix of war distraction and wounded pride made further research a hesitant process. Luckily, progress was not halted altogether. Next time, I hope to discuss more about how Neanderthals lived. Who knows? Perhaps we will find Darwin was right and they are the superior species.