Point
The American transpersonal philosopher Ken Wilber (1981) divided what he called “higher states of consciousness” into several categories. His hierarchy started with the “subtle” (with and without iconography); proceeded to the “causal” (experienced as “pure consciousness” or “the void”), and thence to the “absolute” (the experience of the “true nature” of consciousness). He took the position that consciousness not only unfolds during the life-span of an individual, but during the evolution of humanity, with a select number of individuals attaining the “farthest reaches” of that development (p. 141).
Wilber granted that shamans were the first practitioners to access systematically “higher states,” but only at the “subtle states” level because their technology was “crude” (p. 142). He speculated that an occasional shaman might have broken into the “causal” realm, but insists that “causal” and “absolute” states could not be attained systematically until the emergence of the meditative traditions. Wilber placed shamanism at the 5th level of an 8-level spectrum.
Wilber supported his position by using examples from Eliade’s book, Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy, calling it “the definitive study of the subject” (p. 70). Eliade’s (1951/1972) position was that “shamanism is found within a considerable number of religions, for shamanism always remains an ecstatic technique” (p. 8). Eliade constructed a hierarchy of his own, however, taking the position that the use of mind-altering plants was a degenerate way to obtain visionary experiences. According to Eliade, those states attained “with the help of narcotics” are not “real trances” but “semi-trances” (p. 24). Eliade continued, “The use of narcotics is, rather, indicative of the decadence of a technique of ecstasy or of its extension to ‘lower’ peoples or social groups” (p. 477).

Counterpoint
Walsh (1990) accepted the validity of Wilber’s categories, but retorted that shamanism is an oral tradition. If shamans experience states higher than those at the “subtle level,” their accounts may have been lost to subsequent generations (p. 240). In addition, unitive experiences, such as those described by Wilber, were not a priority of shamans whose because their efforts were directed toward community service (Krippner, 2000, p. 111; Walsh, 1990, p. 240).
Brown and Engler (1986) administered Rorschach Inkblots to practitioners of mindful meditation and discovered that their responses illustrated their stages of meditative development, which reflected “the perceptual changes that occur with intense meditation” (p. 193). One Rorschach protocol was unique in that it integrated all 10 inkblots into a single associative theme (p. 191). However, Klopfer and Boyer (1961) had obtained a similar protocol from an Apache shaman who used the inkblots to teach the examiner about his lived worldview and his ecstatic flights through the universe. Brown and Engler (1986) suggested that this may have been a response that, regardless of the spiritual tradition, pointed “a way for others to ‘see’ reality more clearly in such a way that it alleviates their suffering” (p. 214). Shamans’ attempts to alleviate the suffering of their communities and what Wilber called their “crude” technology might be exceptionally well suited for this task (Krippner, 2000, p. 111).
Wilber (1981) made sweeping generalizations about shamanism but did not recognize the many varieties of shamanic experience. For example, he identified “the classic symbolism of shamanism” as the bird (p. 70), although in some shamanic societies, the deer or the bear is the central totem (Ripinsky-Naxon, 1993). He claimed that the “true” shamanic experience involves “a severe crisis” (pp. 73-74), although there are accounts of shamanic callings that do not involve catastrophes. Indeed, the shamanic “crisis” could be a political strategy that limits the number of contenders for the shamanic role (Krippner, 2000, p. 111).
As for Eliade’s charge that the use of mind-altering drugs represents “degenerate” forms of shamanism, Ripinsky-Naxon (1993) responded that “Eliade failed to recognize the critical role of hallucinogens in shamanistic techniques” (p. 103). The archeological evidence indicates that mind-altering substances date back to pre-Neolithic times, rather than being a later, “degenerate” addition to shamanic practices (p. 153).

In Retrospect
After surveying the cross-cultural research data, Coan (1987) warned, “It would be a mistake to assume that shamanism represents just one stage either in the evolution of human society or in the evolution of human consciousness” (p. 62). Wilber’s (1981) relegation of shamans to the “subtle” level of his “high states” hierarchy virtually ignores the role played by shamans in their community. Such descriptors as “crude” and “degenerate” ignore the “cultivation of wisdom” that has long been a hallmark of shamanism (Walsh, 1990, p. 248).

The Deconstructionist Model

Point
Deconstructionism is a central strand in the intellectual movement known as “postmodernism,” which challenges the “modern” notions of rationality and objective reality. Postmodern scholarship, according to Gergen (2001),
... poses significant challenges to pivotal assumptions of individual knowledge, objectivity, and truth. In their place, an emphasis is placed on the communal construction of knowledge, objectivity as a relational achievement, and language as a pragmatic medium through which local truths are constituted. (p. 803)
Deconstructionism has its roots in literary criticism, but its influence expanded as members of other disciplines attempted to show that words are ambiguous and cannot be trusted as straightforward, dependable representations of “reality” or of “something out there.” George Hansen (2001), the American parapsychologist and magician, identified deconstruction as a key shamanic role: shamans break down categories; confound boundaries, especially those “between worlds;” and specialize in ambiguity. “Trickster tales” are an example of how language can employ double meanings and paradox to provide instruction to their listeners (Babcock-Abrahams, 1975).
Deconstructionists maintain that polarities and privileged positions are simply arbitrary human constructions, which calls into question the notion of “objective reality” (Hansen, 2001, p. 64). By consorting with spirits, shamans deconstruct the polarity of life and death. By breaking taboos to obtain magical power, shamans challenge authority. Upon returning from their “journeys,” shamans describe strange dimensions of “reality,” thus confounding their community’s sense of what is “real.” Reichel-Dolmatoff (1975/2001) observed that shamans mediate “between superterrestrial forces and society” (p. 217).
Shaman’s’ status depends on the complexity of their societies. Winkelman (1992) found that shamans hold high status in bands and lower status in agricultural states. Eventually, shamans are denigrated as “psychotic,” “epileptic,” or “deviant,” especially when When Western rationality becomes the dominant paradigm, shamans are often denigrated as “psychotic,” “epileptic,” or “deviant” (Hansen, 2001, p. 101). Writing about Siberian shamans and their persecution by both church and state, Hamayon (1996) concluded that shamans are “simultaneously adaptive and vulnerable” (p. 76) and that “there is an absence of shamanistic clergy, doctrine, dogma, church, and so forth” (p. 77).
Deconstructionism is no longer limited to literary texts but is often employed to describe the impact of politically and financially powerful groups on societies’ priorities and worldviews. Hansen used deconstructionism to describe how power is applied both by shamans and against shamans. Shamans speak of power places and power objects, and their quest for power is carried out in service of the community, usually in public rituals (Langdon, 1992, p. 14). Once shamans are relegated to the fringes of society, they become the victims of people and institutions that operate under different paradigms. Shamans may find support in communities that also have been marginalized. These shamans, in the tradition of deconstructionism, then challenge “privileged” authority, hierarchies, and structures.
Brown (1989) provided an example of the shaman as deconstructionist in his description of “Yankush,” a pseudonym for a prominent shaman among the Aguaruna of northeastern Peru. Yankush specialized in treating victims of sorcery. Brown noted, “Shaman and sorcerer might seem locked in a simple struggle of good against evil, order against chaos, but things are not so straightforward. Shamans and sorcerers gain their power from the same source” (p. 11).
Brown continued, “The ambiguities of the shaman’s role were brought home to me during a healing session I attended in Yankush’s house” (p. 253). The clients were two women, both apparent victims of sorcerers’ darts. Yankush waited until evening (an example of blurring boundaries, in this case between night and day), and drank ayahuasca, an herbal concoction, just before sunset. “As Yankush’s intoxication increased... he sucked noisily on the patients’ bodies in an effort to remove the darts” (p. 253). Suddenly, a woman called out, “If there are any darts there when she gets back home, they may say that Yankush put them there. So take them all out!” Brown wrote, this “statement was an unusually blunt rendering of an ambivalence implicit in all relations between Aguaruna shamans and their clients.... If... results are not forthcoming, the shaman himself may be suspected of, and punished for, sorcery” (p. 254). Finally, the participants left Yankush’s house, expressing their contentment with the results of his effort (p. 255). This account is marked by a dissolution of boundaries (drinking a mind-altering brew at sunset) and by ambivalence (doubts regarding the shaman’s competence), both hallmarks of deconstructionism.
Another example is provided by Townsley (1993/2001), who explored the epistemology of the Yaminahua, a people living in the Peruvian Amazon, and decoded the secret language used by its shamans. In the spirit world referred to in the songs of this language, “everything... is marked by an extreme ambiguity” (p. 264). This language “is made up of metaphoric circumlocutions or unusual words for common things which are either archaic or borrowed from neighboring languages.... They also create new songs and invent fresh metaphors” (p. 268). “The important thing, emphasized by all shamans, is that none of the things referred to in the song should be referred to by their proper names” (p. 269). Hence, this deconstructionist model returns to its original emphasis on language.

Counterpoint
As Hansen (2001) noted, there have been many “furious denunciations” and “frantic utterings” about deconstructionism and other aspects of postmodern thought (p. 27). Gross and Levitt (1998) agreed with Hansen that postmodernists are imbued with “non-Western” modes of thought, but concluded that this posture leads to higher superstition instead of to insight. They admitted that Western science has been “culturally constructed”; that its projects “reflect the interests, beliefs, and even the prejudices of the ambient culture” (p. 43); and that “no serious thinker about science, least of all scientists themselves, doubt that personal and social factors influence... the acceptance of results by the scientific community” (p. 139). Nonetheless, Nevertheless, they used the term “shaman” derisively each time it is mentioned in their 1998 book, Higher Superstition: The Academic Left and Its Quarrels with Science.they use the term “”shaman”” derisively each time it is mentioned in their 1998 book, Higher Superstition: The Academic Left and Its Quarrels with Science, as when they deride the “”mentality of LSD mysticism, shamanistic revelation, and ecstatic nonsense”” (p. 224).
Is shamanic thought incompatible with Western rationality as Hansen suggests? Hubbard (2002a), after evaluating the issue from the perspective of cognitive psychology, concluded that “conceptual structures underlying shamanism may result from the same types of cognitive processes and the same cognitive constraints (e.g., properties of mental representation) also experienced by non-shamans and by scientists” (p. 135). Hubbard continued, “Shamanic thought thus would not reflect regressive or psychotic tendencies, but would instead reflect normative cognitive functioning” (p. 136).
Physical deconstruction is evident in many of the dreams and visions in which some shamanic initiates report being torn apart and dismembered. HHansen, however, neglected the next step in the process: for For the prospective shaman,, however, this deconstructive procedure is eventually followed by a reconstruction of bones and flesh, during which there is an ecstatic rebirth. In a similar way, shamans often reconstruct a shattered psyche. Pansy Hawk Wing (1997), a Lakota medicine woman, describes the Yuwipi ceremony in which a practitioner intercedes between community members and spirit entities to “pull together all the various parts of the whole” (p. 199).
The American anthropologist Jean Langdon (1992) wrote that power is the key concept that links shamanic systems, enabling shamans to mediate between “the human and the extrahuman” (p. 13). Langdon granted that shamans have an “ambiguous position in society” because they may employ power in negative ways, especially when they direct it against enemies outside of their social group. Nevertheless, shamanic power is usually manifested “in public ritual for the benefit of the community or for individuals” (p. 14).

In Retrospect
Conflicts between shamans and proponents zealous administrators of organized religion can be seen as a struggle between deconstructionists and “privileged” authority. Those writers who call shamanism a “religion” ignore the fact that there are Buddhist shamans, Christian shamans, Muslim shamans, pagan shamans, etc. Shamans are of great interest for many postmodernist writers because they represent the “marginalized other.” More often than not, shamans engage in trickery, improvise and engage in unpredictable behavior, embrace the fluidity of different planes of human existence, and exhibit ambiguous sexuality. In their efforts to share esoteric knowledge with their community, it is essential for shamans to deconstruct order, especially if a person’s or a community’s rigidity and inflexibility have blocked adaptation and growth. Nevertheless, shamans must eventually assemble what has been disassembled, that is, and reconstruct what has been deconstructed, if they are to be of service to their community.

Discussion
Shamans appear to have been humankind’s first psychotherapists, first physicians, first magicians, first performing artists, first storytellers, and even the first timekeepers and weather forecasters. Dow (1986) proposed that shamans represent not only the oldest profession but are “the world’s most versatile specialists” (p. 6). This review of controversies regarding shamans and shamanism indicates that Western interpretations typically reveal more about the observer than they do about the observed and that the construction of a psychology of shamanism needs to address this challenge.
Referring to shamanism, Walsh (1990, pp. 257-258) remarked, “People’s interpretations of the phenomena will be largely determined by their personal beliefs, philosophy, and ‘world hypothesis’.” This world hypothesis or personal mythology (Feinstein & Krippner, 1988) consists of the fundamental beliefs about the nature of the world and reality that underlie one’s life and work. Most people simply take the consensual assumptions of their culture and subculture unquestioningly and interpret the world accordingly (Walsh, 1990, pp. 257-258).
Information concerning world hypotheses and personal mythologies could predict the stance that individuals and groups will take when confronted with shamans or shamanic phenomena because. tThese phenomena are multilayered and can be interpreted from various perspectives. Unfortunately, as Walsh (1990) pointed out in his discussion of shamanism, “At the present time, psychological studies are almost non-existent” (p. 270). Nevertheless, thea psychological studyy of shamanism would have something to offer, among others, to cognitive neuroscientists, social psychologists, psychological therapists, and ecological psychologists. practitioners and researchers of “mind/body healing,” scholars engaged in the psychological investigation of consciousness, and social scientists specializing in cross-cultural studies.

Cognitive neuroscience
Cognitive neuroscience studies the neural processes that underlieying the mechanisms, potentials, and limitations of mental operations. Winkelman (2000) has proposed that a “neurophenomenological framework” is needed to explain the worldwide distribution of specific constellations of shamanic characteristics and the role played by altered states in shamanic practice (p. 75). Meanwhile, researchers in “neurotheology” have used brain imaging techniques to study spiritual contemplatives, and have observeding that prayer and meditation trigger a shift in brain activity that is associated with such unitive experiences as “the presence of God” and “oneness with the universe” (Newberg, d’Aquili, & Rause, 2001, pp. 115-116). The Canadian neuroscientist Michael Persinger (1993) has utilized electrical stimulation to produce reported unitive experiences from volunteer subjects, while and Austin (1998) singled out the thalamus and the temporal lobe have been singled out as potential structures that may be associated with these reportseffects (Austin, 1998). The British cognitive psychologist John Taylor (2002) has proposed an attention-based model of consciousness that identifies parietal lobe neural structures as crucial for attentional control. Taylor’’s model subsumes what contemplatives often refer to as pure consciousness, i.e., pre-reflective consciousness, as basic for attentional control rather than as being ‘“generated”” by it (p. 208).
Several psychologists (e.g., Farthing, 1992) have proposed that attention, memory, ad awareness are the three major components of the “consciousness”” construct. Because attention involves both neural processes and mental operations (Ornstein & Carstensen, 1991, p. 741[Q/not in refs]), shamanic practices provide cognitive neuroscientists an exceptional opportunity to study the neurological foundations of a technology that often maintains awareness, enhances perception, and facilitates recall while the adept’s attention moves between internal and external foci.
Some theorists have suggested that neural networks may be instrumental in making connections between the cognitive processes of the organism and its understanding of the natural world (e.g., Hardy, 1998). They view some tasks, such as hunting and navigation, as a single cognitive activity that is distributed among several individuals (Hutchins, 1995). Such theoretical perspectives mirror the Native American adage, “”we are all related,”” a concept that is shared by shamans worldwide (Hubbard, 2002b), and one that could provide more appropriate models for cognitive psychology as it relies less on artificial intelligence and digital computer metaphors for the architecture of the nervous system’s architecture. Web and network metaphors not only resonate with shamanic worldviews but also reflect the multidimensional nature of human cognition.
These insights could be applied to the cognitive neuroscientific study of what Winkelman calls the “”(2000) “ubiquitous nature”” of shamanic constructs (p. 27). Neurological research, in combination with the investigation of shamanic verbal reports, could yield clues as to whether the basis for these constructs is “”hardwired”” (p. 5), yielding and may contribute to a deeper understanding of both cultural and personal human evolution.

Social psychology
Social psychology, the study of individual attitudes and behaviors in settings where other people are present (or imagined), bridges the foci of psychology, with its emphasis on the individual, and sociology, with its emphasis on social structures. The typical shamanic worldview definesd individuals in terms of their clans and kinship systems and, providesing a framework that is well suited for study by social psychologists. The human species is an incredibly social animal; unlike other animals, humans are neither strong nor fast., thus sSurvival thus depends on abstract problem- solving and group -formation. There is probably a genetic basis for forming groups, as it has been highly adaptive in human evolution; even so, the social world modulates gene expression.
In this regard, McClenon (1997) hypothesized that shamanism is a cultural adaptation to biologically based adaptive potentials, especially those that fostering hypnotizability, which coincides with anomalous and religious experiences (p. 346). Based on these experiences, shamans developed religious rituals that promoted intragroup cohesion, fertility, and therapeutic outcomes; McClenon cited Winkelman’s (1992) findings that shamans were the only magico-religious practitioners found in hunting and gathering societies.; further, McClenon has further proposed several testable features of his model (pp. 346-347).
Social modeling involves clear presentations of the behaviors to be learned in a training program (Sprafkin, 1994) such as those given by magico-religious practitioners. An interest in the role of social modeling’s role in non-pathological dissociation motivated Negro, Palladino-Negro, and Louza (2002) to test 110 mediumistic practitioners in Sãao Paulo. They reported mediumship activity as well as “”control of the religious-related dissociative experiences”” (p. 52) to be associated with high scores on tests for dissociation in spite of positive scores on socialization and adaptation tests. The investigators “”found evidence of social modeling of non-pathologic religious dissociative experience for a population with extensive formalized mediumship training,”” but not for “”social modeling as a causation of pathological dissociation”” (p. 70).
Since Aristotle recorded his impressions of argumentation in the Rhetoric, humans have attempted to refine the principles of social influence, the study of persuasion, influence, and compliance. In any social group, people spend a considerable amount of time cajoling, exhorting, and even manipulating each other to attain their goals. Credibility is essential to persuasion, and credible practitioners display a degree of competence in their field and are commonly viewed as knowledgeable (Winkler & Krippner, 1993, p. 482). After studying both Western and indigenous health care practitioners, Torrey (1986) concluded that the nature of an effective treatment reflects one or more of four fundamental principles. They include: a shared worldview between practitioner and client, personal qualities of the practitioner, positive client expectations, and procedures that engender a sense of mastery on the part of the client. Social influence and persuasion are apparent in each of these principles. Much of the effectiveness of a shaman’s effectiveness rests on the fact that his or her their concepts of sickness are the same those of their as the clients (Rogers, 1982, p. 14). In addition, shamans burnish a positive image of themselves and their powers in order to impress their clients (p. 8). Client expectations are enhanced by eEmotional arousal, and the evocation of faith, hope, and trust enhance client expectations. Group processes may implement a sense of mastery; Western African shamans may invite half a dozen clients into their homes, spending considerable time with them each day (Torrey, 1986, p. 39). The net effect of these, and other, social procedures is to equip the client with strategies to cope with problems in living.
Opler (1936) described the way in which Apache shamans maximized their reputation as effective practitioners, by selecting receptive clients, and rejecting skeptics as well as those with apparently incurable conditions. They demanded payment in advance, bringing additional pressure on their clients to get well. They explained to the clients’’ families how they had achieved shamanic status so as to, enrolling the family’’s support for the treatment. They enlisted the aid of the community in the healing ritual, which further motivateding the client to recover. This appeal to a client’’s community enlists social support, or a person’s resources from the social environment that can be beneficial to his or her the client’s psychological and physical health (Lepore, 1994, p. 247). Psychological research has indicateds that people who receive social support from their social network, particularly if it is from significant others, tend to have fewer psychological problems than people who do not receive support, but there is less evidence regarding physical health (Lepore, 1994, p. 251; Vaux, 1988). Indigenous communities provide an excellent arena for research on this topic because social support is a mainstay of shamanic intervention.

Psychological therapy
Psychological therapy is a deliberate attempt to modify attitudes, behaviors, and/or experiences that clients and/or their social groups deem to be dysfunctional, that is, that inhibit interpersonal relationships, stifle competent performance, or block the actualization of the client’s’ talents and capacities. Like other types of psychological therapy, shamanic healing procedures attempt to modify dysfunctional attitudes, behaviors, and/or experiences through a structured series of contacts between a socially sanctioned practitioner and distressed, but compliant, clients who acknowledge the status of that practitioner. Failed relationships, flawed performance, and faulty personal development are problems common to the human condition. When distressed individuals decide that neither their own resources, nor those of their families and friends, are sufficient to alleviate the distress, they often look for assistance from culturally sanctioned practitioners such as shamans (Krippner, 2000). However, what is considered dysfunctional in one culture (for example, seeing ghosts, hearing voices when nobody is present, engaging in competitive behavior) may not be considered problematic in another culture. Problems that are widespread in one part of the world (for example, demonic possession, suffering from the “”evil eye,”” anorexia nervosa) may be virtually unknown elsewhere. Cultural myths that one society classifies as valid (for example, sickness as the result of breaking social taboos, malevolent spirits as the major causal factor in accidents, imperfect child-rearing practices as a contributing factor in emotional problems) may be considered magical thinking or superstitions in another.
As developed countries become more multi-cultural, Western-oriented psychological therapists need to be well informed regarding the belief systems that might accompany their clients to the counseling session. Cultural competence is a relatively new concept for the helping professions, but it developed from a long tradition of providing services to people from a variety of ethnic and cultural backgrounds (Hurdle, 2002). The fourth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-IV; American Psychiatric Association, 1994) has attempted to enhance its universal validity not only with a brief mention of dissociative trance disorder but with a supplemental category of religious or spiritual problem and a glossary of culture-bound syndromes. Lewis-Fernandez and Kleinman (1995) admitted that this aspect of DSM-IV is the “”main clinical development in current cultural psychiatry in North America”” (p. 437), even though they judged the overall attempt to have been less than successful (p. 439). For example, Hopi Indian shamans identify five distinct indigenous categories related to “”depression,”” only one of which shares significant parameters with DSM-IV’’s depressive disorders. In addition, DSM-IV categories rarely are contextual. For example, in 1996 I this author learned of a 70-year-old Native American woman who had been diagnosed as schizophrenic because she had answered affirmatively when a psychiatrist asked if she heard voices when she was alone. The psychiatrist had not inquired as to whether this was an aspect of her culture as a Native American where her life style involved listening to the earth’’s messages for signs sent by a higher power. This woman was hospitalized as a result of this diagnosis and, remaineding in the hospital until her “”inner voices”” told her what measures to take in order to obtain a release (Breasure, 1996).
Lewis-Fernandez and Kleinman (1995) noted that such DSM-IV disorders as those involving eating behavior and sexual behavior “”show such pervasive Western cultural determinants that they cannot, as presently formulated, be compared across different cultures”” (p. 437). Many mental health practitioners (e.g., Garcia, 1990) prefer to use thefeel that the International Statistical Classification of Diseases and Related Health Problems, which includes a category for trance and possession disorders, they feel to be is more culturally sensitive.
Finally, shamanic healing procedures provide a challenge for psychologists in the designing of outcome studies. Should the outcomes be defined in shamanic terms (for example, successful soul retrieval, regaining one’s flow of chi energy) or in Western terms (for example, cessation of symptoms, resumption of daily work patterns)? Should the outcome be based on the purported “”recovery”” of the individual, of the family, or of the entire community? Should the ritualistic aspects of treatment (chanting, sand paintings, etc.) be separated from the possible impact of interpretive methods (dream sharing, shell reading, etc.) and that of herbal medicines and psychotropic drugs (ayahuasca, peyote, etc.)? Kleinman (1980) wrestled with these issues while conducting an outcome study of tang-ki (Taiwanese shamanic) healing, as did Leon (1975) in his 7-year study of spirit possession in Colombia. Another confounding factor is the fact that many shamanic healing systems do not discriminate between “”physical”” and “”mental”” disorders, but do discriminate in terms on the basis of age, gender, or social position (Krippner, 1992; Rozak, 1992, p. 75).