Aug 9, 2026 02:17 AM
https://aeon.co/essays/the-surprisingly-...bigfooters
EXCERPTS: Yet Bigfooters are not ‘citizen scientists’ in the way we might be familiar with, due to their counter-establishment orientation and alternative vision of what ‘good’ science means. To a degree, the Bigfooter scientific model echoes that of the natural philosophers of previous centuries, in which individualism was valorised, and where testimony, anecdote and personal experience carried evidential weight.
So, how do contemporary Bigfooters use scientific technologies and techniques in their pursuit of evidence – and, ultimately, proof? And what makes their commitment to empiricism different from mainstream science?
Following our interviews, one particular line stuck with us as an apt description of the empirical Bigfooter’s mindset. It came from Cliff Barackman, the presenter of the US TV series Finding Bigfoot (2011-) and the owner of the North American Bigfoot Center in Boring, Oregon. ‘There is this foolish statement, that is still thrown around, that there is no evidence for Bigfoot,’ Barackman said. ‘There’s plenty of evidence, there’s no proof. There’s a big difference.’
This is what we might call the Bigfooter’s lament, and maybe the most concise summary of the frustration – and perhaps sadness – that Bigfooters experience when it comes to making empirical claims for Bigfoot’s existence.
Because there is ‘plenty of evidence’; Bigfooters have collected thousands of witness testimonies, cast hundreds of footprints, recorded scores of howls, and have even captured the occasional photograph or video. Of course, none of these are convincing if starting from the position that Bigfoot does not exist as a biological creature.
Bigfooters are thus faced with an evidential challenge that cannot be resolved with witness testimonies, photos, footprints or recorded sounds and groans. Implicitly and explicitly, both the general public and the scientific community make a simple request: Habeas corpus. Show the body.
[...] So, how exactly are Bigfooters engaged in scientific work? Bigfooting is clearly empirical; it centres on the collection and interpretation of evidence, and we hope readers of this essay, and of our book, appreciate how seriously Bigfooters take this dimension of their work, even in the face of derision. Yet empiricism alone does not constitute ‘science’. From a sociological perspective, science is a social practice – one that is embedded in institutions, structured by norms, and sustained through processes of consensus-building and the demarcation of intellectual territories. Contemporary science is characterised by social features such as peer review, formal training, credentialing, and competition for funding, all of which are absent from the social worlds of Bigfooting.
The contrast is instructive. Not everyone can become a primatologist, at least not without years of specialised education and institutional affiliation, whereas virtually anyone can become a Bigfooter. [...] And yet, Bigfooting collects evidence and makes claims that could be relatively easily incorporated into mainstream, institutional science.
This is not parapsychology; Bigfoot demands no new forces be theorised. This is not ghost-hunting; Bigfoot requires no new classes of entity. This is not UFOlogy; the existence of Bigfoot as a newly discovered ape would not challenge our understanding of our place in the Universe.
The irony is that, should Bigfooters succeed, Bigfooting will be undone as an activity. As Joshua Blu Buhs wrote in Bigfoot: The Life and Times of a Legend (2009): ‘Science would still be science; anthropological theory would have a new wrinkle but remain mostly intact. Scientists would move in once America’s great ape was captured, and the amateurs would be out.’ (MORE - missing details)
EXCERPTS: Yet Bigfooters are not ‘citizen scientists’ in the way we might be familiar with, due to their counter-establishment orientation and alternative vision of what ‘good’ science means. To a degree, the Bigfooter scientific model echoes that of the natural philosophers of previous centuries, in which individualism was valorised, and where testimony, anecdote and personal experience carried evidential weight.
So, how do contemporary Bigfooters use scientific technologies and techniques in their pursuit of evidence – and, ultimately, proof? And what makes their commitment to empiricism different from mainstream science?
Following our interviews, one particular line stuck with us as an apt description of the empirical Bigfooter’s mindset. It came from Cliff Barackman, the presenter of the US TV series Finding Bigfoot (2011-) and the owner of the North American Bigfoot Center in Boring, Oregon. ‘There is this foolish statement, that is still thrown around, that there is no evidence for Bigfoot,’ Barackman said. ‘There’s plenty of evidence, there’s no proof. There’s a big difference.’
This is what we might call the Bigfooter’s lament, and maybe the most concise summary of the frustration – and perhaps sadness – that Bigfooters experience when it comes to making empirical claims for Bigfoot’s existence.
Because there is ‘plenty of evidence’; Bigfooters have collected thousands of witness testimonies, cast hundreds of footprints, recorded scores of howls, and have even captured the occasional photograph or video. Of course, none of these are convincing if starting from the position that Bigfoot does not exist as a biological creature.
Bigfooters are thus faced with an evidential challenge that cannot be resolved with witness testimonies, photos, footprints or recorded sounds and groans. Implicitly and explicitly, both the general public and the scientific community make a simple request: Habeas corpus. Show the body.
[...] So, how exactly are Bigfooters engaged in scientific work? Bigfooting is clearly empirical; it centres on the collection and interpretation of evidence, and we hope readers of this essay, and of our book, appreciate how seriously Bigfooters take this dimension of their work, even in the face of derision. Yet empiricism alone does not constitute ‘science’. From a sociological perspective, science is a social practice – one that is embedded in institutions, structured by norms, and sustained through processes of consensus-building and the demarcation of intellectual territories. Contemporary science is characterised by social features such as peer review, formal training, credentialing, and competition for funding, all of which are absent from the social worlds of Bigfooting.
The contrast is instructive. Not everyone can become a primatologist, at least not without years of specialised education and institutional affiliation, whereas virtually anyone can become a Bigfooter. [...] And yet, Bigfooting collects evidence and makes claims that could be relatively easily incorporated into mainstream, institutional science.
This is not parapsychology; Bigfoot demands no new forces be theorised. This is not ghost-hunting; Bigfoot requires no new classes of entity. This is not UFOlogy; the existence of Bigfoot as a newly discovered ape would not challenge our understanding of our place in the Universe.
The irony is that, should Bigfooters succeed, Bigfooting will be undone as an activity. As Joshua Blu Buhs wrote in Bigfoot: The Life and Times of a Legend (2009): ‘Science would still be science; anthropological theory would have a new wrinkle but remain mostly intact. Scientists would move in once America’s great ape was captured, and the amateurs would be out.’ (MORE - missing details)
