From Joe Laycock, a doctoral candidate studying religion and society at Boston University:
In 2003, Loren Coleman started the world’s first cryptozoology museum in Portland, Maine. Coleman’s International Cryptozoology Museum opened publicly in November 2009, and I recently made the trek north to see it. Cryptozoology—the search for animals not yet verified by Western science—is either a useful and legitimate zoological endeavor or a pseudoscience, depending on whom you ask. The media has focused intensely on the most legendary subjects of cryptozoology: the Loch Ness Monster, Bigfoot, and the Yeti. But aside from “the big three,” cryptozoologists claim a number of recent discoveries, including the woodland bison, the giant panda, the okapi (an African mammal related to the giraffe), and the coelacanth—a fish once believed to have been extinct since the Cretaceous period.
You cannot get a degree in cryptozoology. It is not a scientific discipline but rather a network of investigators (often using their own funds) with training in zoology, anthropology, or marine biology. Cryptozoology often resembles scientific research before the advent of professionalization, when discoveries were made not by research institutions but by “men of science” epitomized by individuals like Benjamin Franklin.
Like the first museums of the Enlightenment, Coleman’s museum evolved from his private “cabinet of curiosities.” The collection features a variety of plaster casts made from possible Bigfoot prints, primate skulls, and unusual pieces of taxidermy. Prizes include an 8-foot statue of Bigfoot covered in musk oxen fur and the rather hideous “Feejee mermaid” prop from the film P.T. Barnum.
However, the real attraction of the museum is Coleman himself, who gives personal guided tours of the collection. Coleman has training in both anthropology and zoology, as well as a master’s degree in social work and uncompleted doctoral work in both social anthropology and sociology. He began doing field investigations in 1960. Since then, he has published 30 books as well as countless articles and is one of the foremost experts on cryptozoology in the world.
Having written on the religious dimension of a West Virginian cryptid known as the Mothman, I wanted to talk to Coleman about the strange relationship between cryptozoology and religion. As it turns out, the search for hidden animals attracts two very different religious elements: the New Age and creationism. Cryptozoology has long been associated in the public consciousness with UFOs, ghosts, and the paranormal. Meanwhile, some creationists see cryptozoology as a way to gain scientific support for their claims. For example, textbooks created for private schools by the Accelerated Christian Education program claim that the Loch Ness Monster disproves evolution.
Coleman seemed mildly annoyed that his work has gained these associations. When the term “cryptozoology” was coined by Ivan Sanderson in the 1930s, and then extended in the 1950s by Bernard Heuvelmans, the field built on a history of “romantic zoology,” a way for explorers and animal collectors to find new species. Often, this work included the study of folklore, hypothesizing that legends of monsters could have a basis in fact. Since the 1970s, the discipline has struggled to distinguish itself from paranormal research and other studies involving the anomalous, especially as media interest began to focus on cryptozoology at the close of the 20th century. However, the search for funding often compels cryptozoologists to work with television shows that juxtapose the hunt for cryptids alongside psychics, hauntings, and alien abduction. This has occasionally led to confusion as to what cryptozoologists actually do.
“I’m just not interested in ghosts and aliens,” said Coleman. Coleman’s approach is empirical, and he remains agnostic as to the existence of Bigfoot. “Belief in Bigfoot”, he argues, “is the providence of religion.” Many sociologists of religion agree; in fact, the Baylor Religion Survey has been monitoring belief in Bigfoot for some time (see table 19).
But why would New Agers and creationists both be drawn to the hunt for Bigfoot? For many in the West, Darwin’s On the Origin of the Species (1859), as well as The Descent of Man (1871), seemed to confirm that religion and science had become incompatible. This perceived split inspired two very different responses.
In 1875, the Theosophical Society was established. Founders like Madame Helena Blavtasky sought to reconcile religion and science into an esoteric doctrine greater than both. Blavatsky’s writings describe enlightened beings from other planes of existence, the inhabitants of other planets, and a process of spiritual evolution that is largely at odds with Darwin’s ideas. Most of the features of the modern New Age milieu are derived from Theosophy.
In 1876, the first annual Niagara Bible Conference was held. This conference set the stage for the interdenominational fundamentalist movement. While early fundamentalists sought to reconcile religion and science, by the 1920s, a movement had begun to openly discredit evolution. This gave rise to several varieties of creationism and finally to what has been called “creation science.”
Both movements can be read as a religious response to the cultural authority of science. Within this struggle, the search for “the unexplained” becomes a powerful asset.
Because cryptozoology has positioned itself on the periphery of the scientific establishment, it offers these groups hope of undoing scientific paradigms and creating room for new sources of meaning and cultural authority. “Creation science” groups like Accelerated Christian Education and Answers in Genesis seek scientific credibility despite the overwhelming opposition of the scientific establishment. As such, they must rely heavily on fringe theories, sometimes distorting them to suit their own ends. The claim that Nessie disproves evolution is a case in point.
The periphery of science may also be a source of religious meaning unto itself.
If science “disenchanted” the world as Max Weber famously claimed, deviant fields of study like parapsychology and Ufology can offer a type of “re-enchantment” by introducing new mysterious forces into the world. A sighting of a cryptid is sometimes akin to what Rudolph Otto called “the wholly other,” an experience of both wonder and dread that takes on religious significance. In some cases, quasi-religious rites have formed around specific cryptids. Numerous rituals have been devised to summon Bigfoot and Nessie, often involving drums and chanting.
So what are we to make of cryptozoology? Perhaps we would do well to take Coleman’s advice to keep “an open but critical mind”—but it’s tough when spiritual seekers and polemicists are using it as ammunition against the scientific establishment.
