Brit Solli. Journal of Homosexuality. Volume 54, Issue 1-2. 2008.
Introduction
Since the eighteenth century Norse mythology has been considered a vital part of the cultural heritage of Iceland and the Scandinavian countries. During the nineteenth century the nations of Europe emerged and became consolidated. Knowledge of the past, especially a nation’s glorious past, constituted essential elements in the building of nations (e.g., Hobsbawm & Rangers, 1983; Anderson, 1983; Eriksen, 1996). The Vikings came to symbolize the Scandinavian folk spirit. The Vikings’ adventurous voyages over vast distances, their seamanship, ship technology, crafts, trade handling, art and belief systems, even their fame as warriors and raging berserkers represented central elements in the establishing of past greatness.
In Norway, the Norse heritage was actively used in constructing the modern, democratic Norwegian state (e.g., Hesjedal, 2001). In 1905 the union with Sweden was peacefully dissolved. In the process towards 1905, historians, archaeologists, art historians and other cultural historians played important roles in creating the necessary ideological tools for building an independent Norway (Stenseth, 1993). The historian Ernst Sars was pivotal in the process of writing an undiluted history of the nation Norway, in which, what Mary Douglas terms “matter out of place” (Douglas, 1966) such as Saamis, Kvens (arctic Finns), tatere (Norwegian travelling people), and gipsies (Romany-speaking people), were excluded (Fulsås, 1999). The roots of the modern democratic nation thus appeared ethnically pure and worthy of collective pride. The history of Norway was, of course, to be seen as distinctly different from the histories of the Danes and the Swedes. Sameness, not difference, in relation to the past, was stressed. In Sars’ version the Norwegian past was definitely not another, or foreign, country (cf. Lowenthal, 1985).
Both the culture of the Vikings and Norse mythology were widely exploited by German Nazis and Scandinavian followers of Nazi ideology from 1930 to 1945 (Arnold, 1990; Myhre, 1994). Thus, in the aftermath of the Second World War much of the previous research into the Age of the Vikings and Norse mythology fell into discredit. Those who continued to work in the field stressed empirical studies of the material culture and tried to avoid any ideological and political debate concerning the use and misuse of the history of the Vikings. The Scandinavian countries still play on the heritage of the Vikings when emphasizing the common heritage of the Scandinavian peoples, for instance, through the international Viking exhibition in 1992 (Roesdahl & Wilson, 1992). But the Viking heritage is a troubled heritage. Today skinheads, racists and neo-Nazis in Scandinavia actively exploit the history of the Vikings and a variety of Old Norse symbols. For these groups the Age of the Vikings represents heroism, white power, blood and honor. And, since researchers into the period more often than not have stressed sameness and not difference with the past, the neo-Nazis have wasted no time in using this research for their own purposes.
However, the past is “another place,” and the Vikings represent a culture that is very different from the culture of modern Scandinavians (cf. Solli, 1996; Solli, 1997a; Raudvere, 2003). The Old Norse religious practices were ecstatic, shamanistic and challenged boundaries concerning gender and sex. These practices have been well-known facts since the nineteenth century. But most researchers have under-communicated this particular knowledge because it did not fit into the desired picture of continuity between the present and the past. Tales of the Vikings are narratives of difference not of sameness. Especially the mightiest God in Norse mythology, Odin, exemplifies narratives of difference not sameness.
Odin the God of War and Master of Seid
Odin was the lord of the gods called cesir. He is described as the god of storms, death, poetry and war. The figure of Odin represents wisdom, power, war and manliness. Odin was also the master of seid (sorcery). The knowledge of seid came from gods called vanir, and seid was considered to be an activity carried out by women.
The Icelandic saga writer Snorre Sturlason describes how the daughter of Njord, Fr⊘ya taught the æsir how to practice seid. Odin knew this art well. He could foresee the future and know the destiny of people and things yet to happen. He could also cast spells and cause people’s death, and he could both take away and procure wisdom. He also could cure disease. However, the art of seid was associated with so much unmanliness (in Old Norse ergi) that men could not practice it without shame. As a god Odin thus constitutes a paradox: He is the manliest god of warriors, but he is also the unmanly master of seid. This paradox has not been satisfactorily explained in earlier research. In this essay I shall suggest a possible understanding of this paradox (cf. Solli, 1998, 1999, 2002). Furthermore, I shall apply this new interpretation of the role of Odin as a way of reinterpreting a peculiar burial practice in Early Iron Age coastal Norway.
If a man practiced seid he could be accused of ergi, that is, a form of unmanliness with connotations of what we today, in the western cultural and historical context, term homosexuality (N.N., 1902; Fjeld Halvorsen, 1959; Meulengracht S⊘rensen, 1983; Gade, 1986; Clover, 1993). Among researchers there has been a general agreement that indications of ergi (a noun), or calling a man argr (adjective) or ragr (a metathesis of argr), constituted an unforgivable insult in the Old Norse society (Noreen, 1922; Strömbäck, 1935). Both men and women could be accused of ergi, the concept had somewhat varying connotations when applied to a woman or a man (Steinsland, 1991a). In the following I shall concentrate on the concept as it was applied to men.
To indicate that a man had let himself be “used as a woman” sexually was considered a grave insult called nidr. The man who was considered passive in the sexual act was considered to be a worse nidingr than the active partner. To call a man argr was viewed as a deadly serious offense, an attack both on himself personally and on the honor of his whole family (Almquist, 1967; Ström, 1974; Meulengracht S⊘rensen, 1980, 1983). In the nid there was always some kind of indication of sexual impotence or unmanliness. And there was always an indication of ergi. A man without honor was no man. Furthermore, a man unable to defend the honor of his women (wife, daughter, mother), was no man. The concept of honor revolved around matters of esteem, respect, dignity, reputation, prestige and public opinion (Meulengracht S⊘rensen, 1995). It is important to underline that the term ergi must be understood contextually and not as a synonym for homosexuality, as we understand it today. However, there is no doubt that the gestalt of Odin constitutes a paradox; he is both the manly god of warriors and the unmanly performer of seid. How could Odin do seid without losing his position as master of the warriors? In other words, there is ambivalence in Odin’s gender status that is difficult to understand.
Odin’s performance of seid can be interpreted as a shamanistic practice (Fritzner, 1877; Strömbäck, 1935; Ohlmarks, 1939; Ström, 1967; Buchholz, 1968; Eliade, 1996; Hedeager, 1997a, 1997b; Back Danielsson, 1999; Price, 2002). Shamanism is characterized by Mircea Eliade as the technique of ecstasy (Eliade, 1996). The shaman acts on behalf of a group of people. Whether the Norse seid is to be considered as shamanism in its classic form, as a kind of sub-arctic shamanism, or as a kind of witchcraft-magic, has been discussed since 1877 (cf. Fritzner, 1877). I cannot here go into this discussion in detail and shall only refer to fragments of the debate (for a thorough treatment see Solli. 2002 and Price, 2002). Eliade does not consider the Norse seid as classic shamanism, because the classic shamanism must involve not only spirit helpers but also a soul passage; the soul of the shaman travels to the other world or wherever the shaman wants to travel. Åke Hultkrantz, in contrast, maintains that practices where the soul does not travel but where the shaman is assisted by spirit helpers, also constitute forms of shamanism (Hultkrantz, 1978). I agree with Hultkrantz on this point: There must always be spirit helpers, but the shaman does not always have to make a soul journey to the spirit-world.
In the Old Norse saga literature the most thoroughly described performance of seid is to be found in the saga of Eric the Red, the discoverer and colonizer of Greenland. Here the volvalseidwoman Torbj⊘rg is assisted by Gudrid, who sings the song called vardlokkur. This song attracts the spirit helpers with whose assistance Torbj⊘rg can foresee the future. From the description it is not clear whether Torbj⊘rg is in an ecstatic trance and/or makes a soul journey (Ohlmarks, 1939; Dillmann, 1992, 1994). However, there is no doubt that the god Odin, when practicing seid, travels to the world beyond or wherever he wants to go (Eliade, 1996; Buchholz, 1968, 1971). I consider the shamanism/seid of Odin to be of another kind than the shamanism/seid of humans. The seid of Odin involves soul travels to Hel (the Norse underworld) and other places. My conclusion is that the seid of Odin is a form of classic shamanism, and that Odin was the greatest shaman in Norse mythology (cf., Hedeager, 1997a).
Odin sacrificed himself by hanging in a tree. This tree is most probably identical with the world tree, Yggdrasil, which literally means the horse of Odin (Pipping, 1928; Ström, 1967; Fjeld Halvorsen, 1967). He tied his eight-footed horse Sleipner to the tree. Odin’s zoomorphic helpers were Sleipner (the eight-footed horse), Hugin and Munin (the ravens). Gere and Freke (the wolves). Snorre Sturlason describes Odin as the master of seid, but it is remarkable that Snorre never mentions the hanging sacrifice (Clunies-Ross, 1994, 32). Was this sacrifice of such a character that it was best forgotten, that is, best not mentioned? I am convinced that the otherwise well-informed Snorre had knowledge of the self-sacrifice of Odin. Why did he not include the hanging sacrifice in his narrative when he described Odin as the master of seid?
Odin, wounded by a spear, spent nine nights and days hanging in the tree. The hanging involved a lot of pain, and through pain Odin would gain wisdom (Buchholz, 1968). By going through this ordeal he acquired knowledge of the runes and the songs to be used when doing seid. The myth of the world tree and the eight-footed horse is not only known by the Germanic peoples but all over north and central Asia. Odin’s self-sacrifice seems similar to initiation rituals that young shamans had to go through (Eliade, 1996).
In shamanism the blurring of gender boundaries, as well as the existence of a third sex is well known in many cultures. Among Native Americans, for example, the concept of a third sex has been found in the berdache tradition (Callender & Kochims, 1983). In 1990 the third Native American/First Nations Gay and Lesbian Conference recommended that the term berdache, as a Western term, should not be applied any more and instead be replaced by “two-spirit/two-spirited people” (Jacobs et al., 1997; Lang, 1999). In the Elder Eddaic poem Hyndleljod there are indications that the conception of a third sex, a kind of two-spirited people, also existed in Old Norse mythology. The poem Hyndleljod tells of the mythical genealogy-the origins-of certain kinds of people practicing seid: The vaulur (volvas or women doing seid) came from Vidolv, the vitkar (men doing seid) came from Vilmeid, and then, a third kind of people practicing seid is mentioned; the seidberendr came from Svarthovde.
In the translation of the Edda into modern Norwegian the vitkar is rendered as trolls (Norwegian: trollkallar) and the seidberendr as seidmen. But berendr definitly does not mean “man.” On the contrary, berendr is a very coarse word for female genitalia in Old Norse (Strömbäck, 1935; Ohlmarks, 1939), and men called seidberendr were exposed to a great insult, a terrible nid. Dag Strömbäck, who in 1935 published the first monograph on seid, maintains that this genealogical classification of seidpeople must have been something the scald/poet invented in the service of poetics; the third category of seidberendr was only invented as technical device in the plot of the poem. Other researchers, among them Gro Steinsland, have made serious attempts to analyse the genealogies suggested in the poem Hyndleljod (Steinsland, 1991a). The genealogy suggested for the seid people may indicate that in Old Norse cosmology there was a conception of a class of people belonging to a third sex and that it practiced seid; they were called seidberendr. And, as mentioned earlier, the third sex played an important role in shamanism.
Why was seid considered to be associated with ergi? In the following I will suggest three interpretations. Firstly, was seid associated with ergi because men behaved like women, changed sex, and/or were involved in homosexual acts? Eivind Fjeld Halvorsen has suggested that, concerning Odin, the accusation of ergi may be explained by the fact that he behaved or performed as a woman (Fjeld Halvorsen, 1959). But Fjeld Halvorsen does not believe that Odin was involved in same-sex acts. Strömbäck finds the topic quite embarrassing, but admits that the practice of seid may have involved repugnant behaviour such as sex changing, as is known in shamanism (Strömbäck, 1935, 195).
Why male shamans changed into the female sex when practicing their art has been interpreted in various ways. Mircea Eliade has suggested that a conception of an original mother goddess existed and that women could better communicate with her and the necessary helping spirits (Eliade, 1996); Gisela Bleibtreu-Eherenberg maintains that women were especially good at becoming possessed when in trance (Bleibtreu-Eherenberg, 1970); Åke Ohlmarks is of the opinion that since women more often than men suffer from mental disturbance or mental instability, they are more apt to be struck by “arctic hysteria” even in sub-arctic regions (Ohlmarks, 1939); Bleibtreu-Ehrenberg, furthermore, argues that rigid patterns of gender roles made it impossible to live in an in-between position, either one was a man or a woman, so, if one felt uncomfortable, the only solution was to change sex (Bleibtreu-Ehrenberg, 1970); Maria Antoinette Czaplicka (writing in 1914) thinks that the privileged position of the shaman allowed for sexual transgression and excesses (Czaplicka, 1969); Åke Ohlmarks, finally, has suggested that these people had a same-sex orientation or were by sexual orientation “transvestites,” and according to Ohlmarks, such people are known for their mental instability and were well predisposed to conditions like “arctic hysteria” (Ohlmarks, 1939). (This was of course written before the Kinsey Reports and before serious feminist criticism made the obvious sexism of several of the above claims impossible.)
Space does not allow for commentary on all these positions, but I am of the opinion that male shamans, when transgressing gender borders, were allowed into a female cosmology from which ordinary men were excluded. The shaman, dressing and acting as a woman, as a queer (cf., Bj⊘rby, 2001), situated himself in an ambiguous position which enlarged and strengthened his shamanistic abilities. According to this view shamanism is not only the technique of ecstasy but also the technique of transformation. The change of sex constituted evidence of the shaman’s ability to transgress (Bleibtreu-Ehrenberg, 1970). His being able to perform as an animal, for example, was only a temporary condition, but by changing sex, maybe in combination with passive homosexuality, and becoming the wife of an ordinary man, his abilities to transgress were constantly visible. In other words, the performativity of his femaleness was permanent, and in this way he strengthened his position as the most powerful shaman of the tribe (cf. Butler, 1990). The queer shaman or seid man was more powerful than the straight shaman or seidman. The seidberendr could have been such shamans.
Secondly, was seid ergi because it involved uncontrolled ecstatic acts? Dag Strömbäck maintains that being in control was a manly feature, as being out of control was associated with femininity. A man had to exert self-control; ecstasy and loss of control represented weakness and thus, femininity. Women were both impure and out of control (Strömbäck, 1935). I find this view anachronistic. Conceptions of female impurity do not exist in Old Norse mythology (Steinsland, 1991a). However, such conceptions do exist in Judaic-Christian and Islamic cosmology.
Thirdly, did ergi concern the painful, partly sexual, ecstatic side of seid? Odin sacrificed himself by hanging in the world tree. This hanging may be interpreted as a shamanistic initiation ritual. The hanging involved pain and ecstasy. Jan de Vries points out that typical for Odins self-sacrifice is: “The suspended sacrifice, the hanging, and the perforating spear” (de Vries, 1957, 49; my translation). Peter Buchholz has maintained that the pain Odin lets himself suffer, is not only agony and torture for the sake of sacrifice but also a way of provoking the necessary ecstatic trance, that was a precondition for the soul-journey Odin made to Hel “The written sources describe the pain of Odin as the most errective ecstatic technique: It is so effective that the pain transforms Odin into his full capacity as a god. When in a condition of perfect ecstasy, after nine days of pain, only then Odin was able to learn the magic, the wisdom and the knowledge of poetry” (Buchholz, 1968, 77; my translation). Modern sexological research has revealed the existence of a sexual practice among men of various sexual orientations that clearly can be characterized as queer, where hanging and going through a near suffocation experience simultaneous with the moment of orgasm, are central. It is of course a dangerous sex game, and deaths have been reported in remarkably high places. The hanging can be associated with sexual ecstasy, and the hanging can certainly, be associated with shamanistic initiatory rituals.
Around AD 1070 bishop Adam of Bremen described the hanging of people in Old Uppsala. Like Snorre, he was appalled, but he did write down what he had heard about these offerings (Adam of Bremen, 1993). I am now going to present an “other” interpretation of Adam of Bremen’s description of the pagan feast celebrated every nine years in Uppsala. The feast lasted nine days and nights and every day one human being and seven animals were sacrificed, all males. They were hanged in trees, and each hanging was accompanied by the singing of songs, most of them indecent, according to Adam, and he therefore thinks they should be left to oblivion. That these songs also dealt with sex, is not a farfetched assumption.
In Adam of Bremen’s narrative all the men and animals die in the hanging. But what about the idea that the men were not supposed to die? Maybe these men were aspiring shamans? Some died because they could not take it. They overdid the ecstasy and never returned from their soul-journey; they simply perished. Maybe the whole ado was about finding the most powerful seidman/shaman? The man, who survived the soul-journey, who came back from the initiation ritual, the hanging, was to become the tribe’s new shaman. Every nine years they had to find a new and powerful shaman, because only then could the world continue to exist. And the foremost role model and biggest shaman of them all, was of course Odin himself. No doubt any Christian person witnessing this quest for a new shaman must have been appalled. My suggestion is that the privileged position of the shaman not only, as Czaplicka argued (Czaplicka, 1969), allowed for sexual transgression and excesses; the position of the shaman/seidman was grounded in his ability, by hanging, to experience an overwhelming sexual ecstasy leading to trance and soul-travel.
In the Old Norse society the roles assigned to men and women were quite rigid, and when practicing seid Odin challenged important taboos. Seid must have been so important for the maintenance of society that the queerness of its practice had to be accepted as a cosmological necessity. The tribe seems to have depended for its survival on the wisdom and powers of the shaman, and especially so for the greatest shaman of them all, Odin. He could travel to the world of the spirits, speak to the guardian of Hel and find wisdom and runes. Seid was necessary for the survival of the tribe; hence breaking taboos was necessary. Odin had to be a queer god, because only by his doing seid and being queer could the world continue to exist. That androgyny was considered as a divine trait is known from several cultures and religions. Eliade has put it this way: “This idea of universal bisexuality, a necessary consequence of the idea of the bisexual divinity as a model and principle of all existence. […] For basically, what is implied in such a conception is the idea that perfection, and therefore Being, ultimately consists of a unity-totality. Everything that exists must therefore be a totality, carrying the coincidentia oppositorum to all levels and applying it to all contexts” (Eliade, 1965, 108). I conclude with Jennifer Terry that “[i]n an ironic way, ‘deviance’ is central to the narrative history of normal” (Terry, 1991, 70-71).
The Holy White Phallic Stones
“In Norway, the existence of 56 phallus-shaped stones, have been registered from Telemark in the southeast to Helgeland in the north,” writes Bergljot Solberg. “Often, the find context of the phallus-shaped stones remains unknown but when information is obtainable, the stones have frequently been found, either on top of grave mounds, or inside graves” (Solberg, 1999, 99-100). These phallus-shaped stones have been called “holy white stones,” most likely due to the fact that the Eddaic poem Gudrunkvida III (Edda-kvede, 1974, 178-179) mentions an event where a woman, Gudrun, swears an oath of matrimonial fidelity, by “the white holy stone.” Solberg finds it strange that these objects have been so overlooked by both archaeologists and historians of religion during large parts of the 20th century (Solberg, 1999, 99).
The existence of the phallus-shape stones was first mentioned in 1842 (Christie, 1842). The first systematic analysis of the stones was carried out by Theodor Petersen (1906). At that time a total of 16 stones were known; 8 of these were found inside grave mounds and cairns, 2 had been placed on top of a mound or cairn (Petersen, 1906, 11). In 1924 the number of stones found had increased to 31 (Petersen, 1924, 487). And when Solberg (1999) makes a comprehensive analysis of the phenomenon in 1999 the total number amounts to 56. She finds that 21 of the stones are known to have been found in graves. 3 stones were found in close association with grave mounds. But often the find context of the phallus-shape stones remains unknown (Solberg, 1999).
Another interesting characteristic of the stones is that at least 15 of the stones have cup-marks (Solberg, 1999, 104). A cup-mark is a circular depression, and they are found “under or on the shaft and even on the head” of the stone (ibid). Cup-marks are considered a female symbol, symbolizing the vulva. Cup-marks are widely known to have been carved on rocks or stones since the Bronze Age, particularly in western Norway, either associated with rock art or alone (Solli, 1997b, 72). Therefore, according to Solberg, many of the holy white stones represent both “masculinity” and “femininity.” Solberg labels them “symbols of ambiguity” (Solberg, 1999, 104).
As mentioned earlier, the Old Norse gods were of two kinds, Æsir and Vanir. Odin had learned seid from the vanir goddess Fr⊘ya. Fr⊘ya, her brother Fr⊘y, and her father Njord were the gods of peace, pleasure and fertility. Since the Æsir god Odin was, not only the most important god of war, but also the master of seid, he may be interpreted as a kind of mediator between the old fertility cult of the Vanir and the new war cult of the Æsir.
In 1866 professor Christopher A. Holmboe suggested that these stones have been the object of religious worship, and he compared them to the worship of Indian Lingaes (Petersen, 1906, 14). Petersen elaborated on this interpretation in his publications from 1906 and 1924. There he connects the stones with the fertility cult of Njord, the Old Norse equivalent of Nerthus, described by Tacitus in Germania (Ch. 40). Njord was male and Nerthus female. However, this change of sex has bewildered researchers, simply because they have not been able to imagine other genders than (heterosexual) male and female.
In search of a biological-sexual explanation hermaphroditism has been suggested (Elgqvist, 1952, 29). Solberg argues that this merging of the male and female sexuality in the same object may support the old theory that Nerthus-Njord was a hermaphrodite (Solberg, 1999, 104). Petersen maintains that the holy stones cannot be associated with the cult of Fr⊘y, because the temporal distribution of the stones can be situated in the Early Iron Age, that is, the later Roman period and Migration period (AD 200-600) (Hj⊘rungdal, 1991, 91). While Fr⊘y, according to, among others, bishop Adam of Bremen, was worshipped actively in the Late Iron Age. Adam writes of the image of Fricco, that is Fr⊘y, in the temple at Uppsala; the god was equipped with a giant penis. Even though Fr⊘y can be associated with a phallic cult, the spatial distribution of the stones are more in accordance with the spatial distribution of place names associated with the cult of Njord (Olsen, 1915).
Petersen’s interpretative association of the holy white stones with the cult of the fertility god Njord has been widely accepted, and most researchers adhere to this interpretation (Skj⊘lsvold, 1963; Hvoslef Krüger, 1984; St⊘ren Binns, 1990; Wik, 1991; Hj⊘rungdal, 1991; Solberg, 1999). However, Gro Steinsland has presented an alternative interpretation, where she indicates that the phallic stones could symbolize a “holy” wedding between the dead and the female ruler of the death, Hel (Steinsland, 1991b, 1994a, 1994b). She finds that an interpretation associating the Holy White Stones with fertility cult is rather vague and imprecise (Steinsland, 1991b, 421).
According to Steinsland, the find context of the stones indicates an interesting connection between grave/death and phallic stone/sexuality (Steinsland, 1994a, 639). Death is described in Norse poems and sagas as an erotic meeting between the dead and a representative of the Realm of the Dead, frequently, the female death goddesses Hel and Ran (Steinsland, 1991b, 422). The arrival of dead warriors to the Realm of the dead are depicted on Late Iron Age picture stones found in eastern Scandinavia, these picture stones have a phallic form. On arrival to the realm of death the warrior may have his sword (a phallic symbol) in upright position, and he is welcomed by a woman. These stones may depict a death wedding (Steinsland, 1991b, 1994a). Steinsland sees “Death” and “Eros” as two main components in the Old Norse royal ideology (Steinsland, 1997).
Steinsland points to the obvious contexual association between phallus-shaped stones and burials. This is a crucial observation, and Steinsland may be right when she interprets both the West-Norwegian Early Iron Age holy white stones and the East-Scandinavian Late Iron Age picture stones as symbols and depictions of a boda de muerte. However, I shall present yet another alternative and tentative interpretation, based on the insights presented above, on the queer and shamanistic character of Odin.
A Queer Interpretation
The temporal distribution of the holy white stones is in accordance with an increasing cult of Odin (Hedeager, 1997a; Hedeager, 1997b). Instead of focusing on death, I shall stress the transformative nature of ecstasy and the divine trait of gender transformation. Through the experience of ecstasy Odin could transform himself into whatever he wanted, and he could travel to every kind of world to obtain knowledge on whatever he desired. I agree with Steinsland that death involves a passage from the realm of the living to the realm of the dead, be it to Vallhall, or to Hel, situated in the depths of the roots of the world tree Yggdrasil. A shaman/seidman made his passages through trance/ecstasy with explicit sexual connotations, for instance through a hanging-sacrifice. The seidman was clearly an argr person. The ability to reach this ecstatic condition was paramount for a strong master of seid/Norse shamanism. He had to transgress boundaries by subverting genders and “normative” sexual behaviour.
The holy white stones, symbolizing both masculinity and femininity, may in turn symbolize such a transgressing power and therefore, also shamanistic powers. The graves associated with the white holy phallus-shaped stones may be the graves of shamans, maybe not only seidmen, but also the graves of the female equivalent of the male shaman, the volva. If a thorough analysis of grave material associated with the white stones should indicate that there are several graves associated with the holy stones that cannot easily be attributed to either the male or female gender, then, my idea, that these graves are the graves of shamans, whom I consider queers, would be strengthened. Maybe these graves represent the seidberendr, that is, two-spirited people. Before such an analysis is carried out, the suggested interpretation must be labeled a “tentative hypothesis.”
Conclusion
Since the nineteenth century researchers have been well aware of Odin’s role as the master of seid, and that he could be associated with ergi. The phenomenon of the holy white stones has also been known for over 150 years. Neither the role of Odin as the master of seid, nor the phallus-shaped stones have constituted “attractive” topics in the study of the Old Norse culture. The academic disciplines of history and archaeology are the offspring of the nation-building period of the nineteenth century. The past was studied so as to find the roots of the Volk and nation states. Identity with the people and cultures of the past was stressed, not difference and “otherness” (cf. Solli, 1996). The students of Old Norse poetry and prose knew that Odin could be argr, a queer, an non-man, but they did not like it. If they wrote about ergi etc., they described the unmentionable details in Latin (Noreen, 1922), or they published anonymously (N.N. 1902).
Queer theory entails perspectives of difference and otherness. As a discipline working with temporal distant cultures, archaeology can be enriched by queer theory’s ability to challenge sexual stereotypes. The past is a foreign country, an “other” place, and queering the past means diversifying the past. Such a view can only enrich our knowledge further. Who would argue against that?