The Last Wild Men of Borneo audiobook

Excellent book, but man - a lot to unpack here.This is basically a story of the destruction of Borneo - its physical destruction, as its irreplaceable rainforests are cut down and sold off, only to be replaced by monoculture palm oil plantations; but also the cultural and spiritual destruction of its remaining aboriginal peoples, whose heritage is also being collected and sold off to foreign interests.I'm still not sure if telling this bigger story of the indigenous tribes of Borneo (and similarly, of the indigenous peoples of New Guinea through his earlier book, Savage Harvest: A Tale of Cannibals, Colonialism, and Michael Rockefeller's Tragic Quest for Primitive Art) through the specific tales of several EXTREMELY white interlopers is racially insensitive or a stroke of narrative genius, but for me, this ultimately worked.For the first three-quarters of the book, Michael Palmieri comes off as a charming, roguish but ultimately morally compromised (or is he?) "tribal art collector" who consistently rips off the Pinan and Dayak peoples (at one point, purchasing one of his greatest finds for a single Swiss Army knife). And yet…if he had not moved so much indigenous art out of Borneo when he did, would it have instead been destroyed during the indiscriminate burning and other razing of so much virgin forest by Malaysia's own rapacious timber and palm oil industries? (FIRST NOTE: Despite the Malaysian government never looking good in this book - particularly its mercurial and thin-skinned [but apparently indestructible] Prime Minister Mahathir Mohammed - the real, consistent villain of this story is Sarawak's Chief Minister Abdhul Taib Mahmud, who served in that position for an unimaginable 33 years from 1981-2014, and then became Governor of Sarawak, a position he continues to hold today. Taib's personal fortune is estimated at over $15 billion, most of which was accumulated as a direct result of the exploitation and appropriation of Sarawak's natural resources.) (SECOND NOTE: And yes colonial powers and foreign invaders have always taken advantage of their conquered lands and peoples - just think of Napoleon in Egypt, or Hitler...well, anywhere - but that isn't limited to we Westerners. To this day, Beijing blames Chiang Kai-shek of "stealing" many of China's most valuable treasures, most of which reside today in Taipei's "National Palace Museum." But how many of those would have been otherwise destroyed by China's Red Guards during the Cultural Revolution? And how much of Tibet's cultural heritage could have been saved if someone like Palmieri had been able to remove it prior to the Chinese invasion - and subsequent devastation - of Tibet? And certainly, Sarawak's new Malay Muslim rulers held/hold Borneo's Orang Ulu* in even lower regard than did their former British rulers, as well as the original White Rajahs before them, and as such have showed zero interest in preserving their unique cultural heritage.)At the other extreme from Palmieri is Bruno Manser, a zealous, idealistic, but ultimately unrealistic supporter of the Pinan's rights to their own land and culture in Borneo. Manser ultimately paid for his efforts with his life, disappearing in the rainforest in 2000…and then suffering the additional posthumous tragedy of being featured on the cover of TIME magazine just one week before Sept 11, 2001** - at which point his well-argued concerns took a distant last place behind…well, basically everything at that point, at least for a long while.Hoffman does a good job throughout in laying out "the essential conundrum" of white efforts to save rainforests and indigenous peoples throughout the world: "To Westerners, Bruno (and in his own way, Palmieri - my addition)) was a selfless savior and the Penan the quintessence of noble savages. To the Malaysian government they were a primitive embarrassment who needed to be saved from their own primitiveness (a process that not incidentally meant enormous profits for Malaysia's elites)."And therein lies the rub. If Borneo's "development" did indeed aid the local peoples, then that may indeed be a good thing. Colorful as their forest life appears to we outsiders, who among them wouldn't appreciate education, medicine, electricity, etc., etc.? But ultimately, those local benefits were few and far between - while the real profits went to an increasingly corrupt Malaysian kleptocracy,*** foreign art collectors, and buyers of tropical hardwoods around the world (but particularly in China and Japan).Anyway - as I said, a lot to unpack. On a personal level, it made me take an on-going look at my own travels and acquisitions. Certainly I was more than a mere "tourist," but never really surpassed the still-low bar of "expat;" while I lived in Malaysia/Singapore for seven years, and Taiwan for another 18, I never really tried to become a part of either culture, and always assumed I would someday "go home" to the U.S. (with my container full of slowly-acquired antiques, artifacts and souvenirs). Anyway anyway - enough said. Excellent, eye-opening and thought-provoking book; I only suggest you read it close to both Google and Google Maps, so that you search for exotic places, terms and people like Batu Lawi, hampatongs, Mutang Urud, Lubuk Antu, Pontianak (which I had always confused with Balikpapang - silly me), etc.* Orang Ulu - "people of the interior." Malaysia is full of "orangs" - Orang Asli ("native or original people," the aborigines of peninsular Malaysia); Orang Laut ("people of the sea"); Orang Kuala ("people of the river"); Orang Putih ("white people" or Caucasians); and - most famous of all - Orang Utan, ("people of the forest," or our beloved - and highly endangered, again due to Borneo's unstoppable loggers - "orangutans").** PERSONAL NOTE: As mentioned above, I lived in Malaysia from 1998-2002 (and all things considered, loved it there - beautiful country, great people, just generally politically messed-up), when much of "the Bruno affair" was unfolding. However, I was only vaguely aware of it, and then only through the pro-government and deeply one-sided reporting of "New Straits Times" journalist James Ritchie, who also comes off very poorly in this book. And of course, the 03 Sept 2001 issue of TIME magazine was mysteriously absent from Malaysia's magazine racks that week...*** Ah, kleptocracy. While Taib continues to go not only unpunished, but also greatly rewarded, for his rapaciousness, it's worth noting that Malaysia's former Prime Minister Najib Razak just began serving a 12-year sentence for corruption, and his wife was herself sentenced to 10 years just THREE DAYS AGO (i.e., 01 Sept 2022). However, this shouldn't really be interpretted as an encouraging sign; like much of Malaysian politics (see the 1998 and 2015 convictions of Anwar Ibrahim - Mahathir's deputy PM and main challenger - on sodomy charges), this was as much politically motivated as any true search for justice. (BTW, who do you think succeeded Najib as Prime Minister? A then-92-year-old Mahathir Mohamad. What are the odds??)(Answer: actually, knowing UMNO pretty good...)

Great read if you are interested in Borneo and the cultural relationships that go on there. The book talks about 2 different people and how their personalities influenced their decision in going to Borneo and what they did there. One of them Bruno is presented as an adventurous albeit a little selfish person who was never happy living in a structured society and once he makes his way to Borneo he finally finds what he was looking for but at a price. The other character had a different approach and he was more of an ambitious character and while his life is also complex and interesting he also makes it to Borneo but he sees it as more of a business opportunity.

Delectable, although it should be a sad book. C onsidering the context which is about the destruction of the Borneo rainforest and its ancient human cultures, It is a true life thriller and semianthropological book, the destruction of the rainforest and part of the drama behind it The story of Bruno Manser I otherwise missed, this ecological disaster is minimally covered in the news I've read,like Russia's ongoing war with the Ukraine,,,Very well written.

This book was stone cold brilliant. Beautiful. Sad. Joyful. Incredibly thoughtful. Perfectly constructed. It would take a review as long as this book to cover its many facets. It is a travel book of the first order, a history of Borneo and its indigenous peoples, a study of human nature, a meditation on meaning, culture, the natural world, memory. That just scratches the surface.

The Last Wild Men of Borneo is a wonderful double biography (one of my favorite genres!) It follows in the footsteps of two Western men who went to Borneo around the same time. While they did pass by each other once in Kuching; for the most part they were on parallel paths, which Hoffman describes as being almost mirror images of each other. The first man is Bruno Manser. You’ve heard the expression “Fact is stranger than fiction?” Well, that term was invented for cases like that of Swiss environmentalist, Bruno Manser’s life story. Arriving in Borneo in the mid-80s, within a year, he was living with one of the most elusive tribes in the highlands, the Penan. The cover of the book has a photograph of Manser that I did not realize was a white man until I was nearly finished reading. Dressed in a loincloth and carrying a poison arrow quiver and blowpipe, his hair has been cut in the Dayak fashion, and he is shown squatting on a rock near the river’s edge. It is a touching photograph of a man who gave his life to fight for the rights of the indigenous peoples of the highlands. Hoffman described the events of his life and then tries to make sense of his disappearance. He does this through a thorough investigation into archives and by conducting countless interviews. The other subject of Hoffman’s book is tribal art dealer and collector Michael Palmieri. In another story that reads more like a Hollywood movie, we follow Palmieri from his surfing days in LA deep into the rainforest of Borneo; where he has fled after dodging the draft and traveling overland from Paris to Goa, by way of Kabul. In Indonesia, he buys a longboat and—you guessed it—heads upriver to buy artifacts. This is where Hoffman’s book really shines. Because the rainforest is not just being threatened by loggers and palm oil corporations, as it turns out the cultural treasures of the Dayak are being plundered as well. In what seems to be a typical story, we follow Palmieri upriver where he bargains for masterpieces. In one case, he gets his hands on a priceless wood statue, which he somehow manages to trade for a Swiss Army knife. He would then sell this statue for an enormous sum of money to a dealer, who then sold it to the Dallas Museum of Art. In the book, we watch this happen again and again. Priceless work of sacred art is purchased for laughably small amounts of money, sometimes traded for a generator or even stolen right out of graves.The tribal art market is worth over $100 million dollars today. And now we have a vanishing Borneo—from its animals to its ancient forests, to its peoples and cultural heritage.Hoffman also explored this in his wonderful Savage Harvest. In both books, he goes into unexpected depth looking into what he calls the "Western hunger for Eastern Solace." In this book, he does this in Bali, where he is living. I wasn't crazy about this since I think he exploits the ladies who do yoga in unfair ways, talking of basically how empty their lives are and how the expats use Balinese ritual and yoga by cherry picking, what works for them and what doesn't. I do think there is something of cultural appropriation but I wish he didn't talk about their plastic surgery and empty chatter since it isn't very nice, is it? I am sure they didn't expect this from agreeing to go on a date with him! He was a lot more likable when he questioned his own "western hunger for eastern solace" in describing his very secular upbringing, where he felt alienated from Judaism and hungered for ritual and transcendence... And he rightly points out in this book that if these Westerners really embraced Balinese culture, they would find it as demanding as the Catholic liturgy. He talks about Dayak who converted to Christianity and gave the main reason for their conversion being that "Christianity is so much easier..." this all is saying that maybe somethings in life are not consumer choices. Or maybe everything is a consumer choice and we can just do whatever the hell we want-? His four test cases are himself, Michael Rockefeller, who was there to consume tribal art and Palmieri--both who were very exploitive in their bargaining with the people they were "buying" (stealing basically) this art from...and then Manser is a tougher case, as he truly was trying to be the voice that this tribe so desperately needed in the face of their entire land being ruined. Manser became a real thorn in the side of Mahatir, and even more the Sarawak minister who ran the logging companies and was a billionaire. In a letter that Mahatir unbelievably wrote to Manser, Mahatir asks, "So, you think these people don't have a right to hospitals and education? You think they should live in the stone age to suit your fantasies? And who are you to talk?" It's true as well... and yet, just like in the case of the people who lost their sacred art--cultural patrimony really, as we are talking of very culturally significant art works that were bought for nothing, making enormous profits!Anyway, I am a big fan of this author. A national geographic contributing editor, he finds riveting stories that should be or could be Hollywood movies and he tells them as such--but then goes into great depth. Great writer. Great detective work. Sensitive handling of issues!

This wonderful book takes you back in time. Two men, unconnected, delve into the world of a jungle tribe called Dayak. One totally submerges into it, the other finds a fortune there. It also tells the tale of civilization encroaching on these nomads of a time not long past. A peoples self sufficient and at one with nature, living without any modern conveniences, happy in this environment, and tough as nails. This story flows, and is educational, and enjoyable.

Great book!! Once I started there was no putting it down. Interesting mix of love and devotion and greed and money. Would recommend to everyone.

A powerful book. I am somewhat ashamed at being utterly clueless about the destruction of the Borneo rainforest and ignorant of Bruno Manser. Hoffman delivered the lesson in a very engaging fashion, despite there being no way to dodge the sadness. For a while I was puzzled by the import of the shared biography of Michael Palmieri, but the end of the book tied everything together for me.Beyond telling a true story, there is a moral here. My sense is that Hoffman’s saga cautions how the “tragedy of the commons” has been amplified because in the modern world everywhere is ‘common’. At the end of the day, Manser and Palmieri are individuals to admire for various reasons, but both are driven by personal motivations which may or may not make a net contribution to global goodwill. What is right and what is wrong? Hoffman underscores the difficulty by inserting a letter from the Prime Minister of Malaysia to Bruno which illustrates a valuable lesson: most all of us believe ourselves to be virtuous. Often mystified by actions of world leaders, I used to wonder how they could not see the pure absurdity of their actions, but time has taught me to appreciate they have a different perspective and caused me to frequently question my own motivations. The PM’s letter reinforced how we can all believe ourselves to be bettering the world.The closing chapter where Hoffman struggles over what drives his own actions was something of a touchstone for me. There is a potent bottom line here and much more than a pair of biographies around two adventurers in Borneo.

It may be helpful to read "Into the Wild" by Jon Krakauer before reading this book. Krakauer's book was one of the first I read that delves into the psyche of Westerners who leave civilization behind to head into the wilderness not with the goal of taming it, but rather to lose themselves and, eventually, find their own demise. The analysis that Krakauer provides of Christopher McCandless's doomed trip into the Alaskan tundra could be applied directly to Bruno Manser's final trek into the Borneo forest, and having read the Krakauer book, I came to this one with some additional insight into Manser. Was his plight to preserve the forest for the indigenous peoples who lived in it, or was it more for himself? Why couldn't he work with the people who wanted to help him? Why couldn't he settle for any of his ambitions, rather than repeatedly dashing his organization's best efforts? From the story of Manser's journeys with the Penan people of Borneo and his nearly fruitless efforts to protect the primeval rainforests there, I think we ultimately find a story of a single man trying to find his place in the world, and who was often disappointed with what he found. His closest cohort, the people with whom he most felt connected (and who, by their own interviews in this book, appeared to likewise connect with him) were the Penan people and their way of life in the forest, but even attempting to build a life and a purpose for himself there was not enough for him.I found all of this fascinating and insightful. Alongside of Manser's journey is the story of Michael Palmieri, an antiquities dealer now in his seniority, whose adventures in the Middle East and Indonesia during the 1970s and 1980s are described in exciting detail. Palmieri's story (and Manser's, for that matter) is both intriguing and problematic: his journeys into Borneo, and his attempts to "preserve" magnificent arts and cultural artifacts are, in essence, also the stories of Western people visiting "exotic" cultures to purchase, to take, maybe to exploit. The author probes the ethics of both these men and their journeys throughout the book, and even his own ethics as he ventures into the forest to walk in their footsteps. This book was informative and moving, and gave me much to think about with regards to cultural "preservation" and living in a post-colonial world.

Often my five-star reviews are of books I happen to see on a library non-fiction display shelf and think “that’s a book for me.” And this was one. I understand it may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but when I read some reviewers say they disliked the book because it focuses “only” on two Westerners and not on the indigenous cultures of Borneo, I wonder how carefully they read the book, and how willing they were to follow where Hoffman takes us. Because The Last Wild Men of Borneo IS about both groups of "wild men" — (1) the indigenous and endangered native peoples of Borneo, especially the Penan and Dayak, who are becoming westernized at the book’s end, and (2) the two Western “wild men” whose vastly different motives for transplanting their lives, and themselves, in Borneo share such similar features, as Hoffman reveals to us in an excellent mode that lets the two narratives blend into each other. (Think Ingmar Bergman’s Persona.) In the last chapter, where Hoffman recounts his harrowing (for him) three-week 30-mile trek through the jungle with Penan men, women, and children, we realize he had wished himself to become a “wild man” in his own way, perhaps not as Manser or Palmieri in Borneo, but to have extricated himself from full immersion in Western life. It’s a powerful and poignant book in this way, and I recommend it to all who think from these reviews that it might grab them. For us, this book is a page-turner adventure as well as a philosophical dive into what gives life meaning, as well as a tough course in the obstacles to environmental salvation (even more desperate now, in 2021).

This is a very entertaining book. The author describes how a Swiss environmentalist and an American native art trader came to know Borneo in Sarawak, Malaysia and Kalimantan, Indonesia. The environmentalist was concerned with saving the nomadic Penan people and their way of life, whereas the American, a 1960s draft dodger, fell in love with the island while trying to make a living by selling native artifacts. Many of these works are now preserved in museums around the world. The original wild men of Borneo, ironically, also came from the west. They were two American brothers, Hiram and Barney Davis, who were born in the 1820s and died in the first years of the twentieth century. They only measured about 40 inches tall but could lift heavy weights and beat audience members in wrestling. They were introduced to P.T. Barnum, the famous entertainer, who put them in the sideshow of his traveling circus, billing them as “The Wild Men of Borneo.” --- I lived in Sabah, Malaysia (North Borneo) as a volunteer teacher from 1968-1970 and as a program manager during 1973-74. I also returned to make documentary films and visit my students -my last trip 2006. I never lived in the jungle but learned all about the multi-ethnic cultures of the island's coasts. My memoir, "Finding Myself in Borneo," covers a very different slice of Bornean life. I didn't live with "Borneo's wild men." In fact, I think we western volunteers were the wild men! www.neillmckeeauthor.com/buy-the-book

I read this right after that guy got killed when trying to preach Christianity to the Sundanese, so my mood was perfect for this book: I was thinking, with indignation, about the many ways in which we as a “post-colonial” society still approach “civilization diversity”. And as I began reading, especially with chapters on Michael Palmieri, I thought that I would finish reading with further indignation. A rich guy who sells antiques he gets for pennies from the locals, grr, why would anyone want to write a book about him, and not the people he’s buying art from. But as I read on, I realized that Carl Hoffman’s thesis was very close to my own musings. His take on Michael Palmieri and Bruno Manser, the Swiss man who left to live with an indigenous tribe on Borneo, is full of duality and nuance. He presents interesting facts about the way white and non-white colonization worked in Borneo over the years, which explains the particulars of how the indigenous tribes and local communities communicate. And Hoffman questions everything: white saviors, spiritual tourism, “purity” of being indigenous, prospects of assimilation, everything that deals with the issues of “civilized” and “non-civilized” living in the backdrop of Borneo. It’s a smart take on an interesting subject, and a work of journalistic integrity.