Pérez Gollán, José Antonio

P Pacific Islands: Finding the Earliest Sites Mike T. Carson1 and Hsiao-chun Hung2 1 Micronesian Area Research Center, University of Guam, Mangilao, Guam, USA 2 Department of Archaeology and Natural History, The Australian National University, Acton, ACT, Australia Introduction The character and date of the earliest settlement of the remote Pacific Islands remains an important research objective. Tracing human origins in “Remote Oceania” reveals a series of west-to-east migrations, ultimately from southern coastal China before 6,000 years BP (Bellwood et al. 2011). In the far west of Micronesia, the Mariana Islands have become known as the home of the oldest archaeological sites of Remote Oceania, dated 3,500–3,300 years BP (Fig. 1). We are only now achieving some clarity on where to find sites, in a manner that conforms to CRM constraints. The local governments consider excavations to be destructive to cultural heritage resources and harmful to the natural environment. Archaeological excavations are therefore undertaken only in strict compliance with government regulations, which are not always conducive to archaeological visibility. The normal procedures use shovel tests, holes 10–20 m apart dug the size of a shovel blade and sieved through a 6 mm mesh, to find sites, and test pits, 1  1 m in plan taken down by trowel, to investigate them. Monitoring of a machine-dug trench has become standard procedure for archaeological resource management in beach settings. Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples Survey Nearly all sites in the Marianas are found through surface reconnaissance, walking at close intervals (usually 5 m) through the dense jungle, sometimes augmented by transects of shovel testing where the ground visibility is particularly difficult. This approach works well in areas with little or no soil development, where site remnants are easily accessible. In fact, most island terrain fits into this category, bearing perhaps 20–30 cm of rocky silt or clay directly over solid bedrock. Using little or no excavation, this strategy has been successful for mapping and recording sites of the more recent time period, roughly within the last 1,000 years. Megalithic house pillars and capitals (locally called latte) mark most residential sites. Broken pottery is littered almost everywhere, along with lesser amounts of stone and shell adzes and other such durable tools. For the most ancient sites, dating to 3,500–3,300 years BP, the best chance of finding a preserved archaeological deposit is to search in C. Smith (ed.), Encyclopedia of Global Archaeology, DOI 10.1007/978-1-4419-0465-2, # Springer Science+Business Media New York 2014 P 5694 Pacific Islands: Finding the Earliest Sites Pacific Islands: Finding the Earliest Sites, Fig. 1 Island-wide terrain model of Guam showing (a) conditions 3,500–3,000 years BP and (b) modern conditions (Modified from Carson (2011)) the beach sand. These locations fortuitously match expectations of where the earliest islanders lived, near productive crop-growing soils and bountiful coral reef ecosystems. The beaches as seen today, however, are recent geological formations. The ancient sea level stood 1.8 m higher than today, plus the earliest sites are at least 1–2 m beneath today’s sandy beaches and 100 m or farther inland from modern shorelines. These circumstances teach us two things. First, the coastal terrain has been transformed substantially since the time since the sites were first inhabited. Second, exploratory survey for the most ancient sites cannot rely on surface finds, and researchers must dig deeply in locations that may not appear immediately obvious. Taking into account these formation processes, a paleo-terrain model can be used to depict the approximate coastal topography at the time when the oldest sites were inhabited (Carson 2011). The model has been continually Pacific Islands: Finding the Earliest Sites 5695 P Pacific Islands: Finding the Earliest Sites, Fig. 2 Setting of 3,500–3,300 years BP beach site at Ritidian, Guam, now more than 100 m from modern shoreline and 2.5 m beneath the surface Pacific Islands: Finding the Earliest Sites, Fig. 3 Arrangement of post-moulds, hearths, and other features in ancient living floor 3,500–3,400 years BP, 100 m landward from House of Taga, south coast of Tinian refined by test pits and trenches that give precise locations, depths, and dates of ancient sedimentary layers, whether or not they contain archaeological materials. The most thorough work has been in Guam, the largest and southernmost of the Mariana Islands. Excavation At Ritidian on Guam, dozens of small test pits, each 1 m by 1 m, were dug at 10-m intervals throughout an area targeted by the paleo-terrain model. The most ancient deposit was found only in one of these test pits, meaning that the original site covered a rather small area less than 20 m by P 20 m in total. The deepest cultural layer was buried more than 2.5 m deep and more than 100 m from the present shoreline. The ancient shoreline context was dated 3,500–3,300 years BP by radiocarbon. Exceptionally thin (1–2 mm) red-slipped pottery fragments were refitted, representing 10–20 % of two different small bowls or jars, plus more than 55 % of another shallow open bowl. The oldest site layer at Ritidian was sealed beneath a zone of 1 m of hardened beach sand (calcrete) that solidified after the site had been buried, creating a barrier that few archaeologists would attempt to breach. The excavation required chiselling of large solid P 5696 blocks of calcrete, later dissolved in mild (5 %) acid and sieved through half-mm wire mesh for full recovery of the constituent artifacts and midden. Beneath the calcrete, the loose beach sand was removed by trowel and sieved through half-mm mesh for consistent recovery (Fig. 2). The most thoroughly studied early period Marianas site has been on the southern coast of Tinian, 100 m inland from the famous megalithic latte ruins of the House of Taga. An excavation slightly larger than 16 sq m here proceeded by hand troweling of stratified layers, each internally divided into arbitrary levels 10 cm thick. This strategy uncovered an arrangement of postmoulds, hearths, and other features of an ancient living floor dated about 3,500–3,400 years BP (Fig. 3). Among 30,000+ earthenware pottery fragments, more than 150 exhibited finely impressed, stamped, and incised decorations on a red-slipped surface. Chert adzes and flaked tools, shell beads and pendants, fishing hooks, shellfish remains, and bones of fish, turtle, and birds completed the assemblage. Cross-References ▶ Environmental Reconstruction in Archaeological Science ▶ Excavation Methods in Archaeology ▶ Field Method in Archaeology: Overview ▶ Geoarchaeology ▶ Landscape Archaeology References BELLWOOD, P., G. CHAMBERS, M. ROSS & H.C. HUNG. 2011. Are ‘cultures’ inherited? Multidisciplinary perspectives on the origins and migrations of Austronesinaspeaking peoples prior to 1000 BC, in B.W. Roberts & M. Van der Linden (ed.) Investigating archaeological cultures: material culture, variability, and transmission: 321-54. New York: Springer. CARSON, M.T. 2011. Palaeohabitat of first settlement sites 1500-1000 B.C. in Guam, Mariana Islands, western Pacific. Journal of Archaeological Science 38: 2207-21. Pacific Islands: World Heritage Pacific Islands: World Heritage Christian Reepmeyer and Geoffrey Clark Archaeology and Natural History, The Australian National University, Canberra, ACT, Australia Introduction Pacific cultural heritage research has taken an active role in reshaping notions of cultural significance that has been recognized by UNESCO. Acknowledging the importance of associative cultural landscapes, first applied to the Tongariro National Park, New Zealand, in 1993 and UluruKata Tjuta, Australia, in 1994, culminated in the 2008 inscription of the “Chief Roi Mata’s Domain,” Vanuatu, into the World Heritage List (UNESCO 2010). These advances in Pacific cultural heritage research do not hide the fact that Independent Pacific Island Nations (referred to here as IPIN) are underrepresented on the World Heritage List. The uneven distribution of World Heritage sites globally is exemplified by the presence of only 13 sites in the wider Pacific area and only five sites nominated by IPIN. Below is a list of World Heritage properties located on Pacific Islands (standing 2011). Key Issues The strong underrepresentation of cultural sites has been a matter of discussion since the mid1990s (UNESCO 1994) and resulted in the “Filling the Gaps” – World Heritage Action Plan (ICOMOS 2005) and the World Heritage – Pacific 2009 Programme for capacity building in the region (UNESCO 2004). The plans represent a partial success in that since its launch in 2002, nine of 14 IPIN (including New Zealand and Papua New Guinea) have submitted properties to the World Heritage Commission and in An erratum to this contribution can be found at http://dx.doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4419-0465-2_2500 Pacific Islands: World Heritage total 39 properties have been registered on the Tentative List. Consequently, there has been an increase in properties inscribed on the World Heritage List; six sites have been inscribed since 2003, although these include the property “Lagoons of New Caledonia: Reef Diversity and Associated Ecosystem” in a French overseas territory and the “Papahānaumokuākea” property in the US state of Hawaii. Looking at the representation of cultural sites on the World Heritage List, it is apparent that the usual four-to-one ratio of cultural to natural sites internationally (currently 725 cultural, 183 natural, and 28 mixed properties) is significantly different in the Pacific, where the cultural–natural site ratio is one to four. This ratio might relate to the status of several islands, such as being a territory of one of the Western developed countries USA, UK, or France (Table 1) or being of interest to international nongovernmental organization such as the World Wildlife Fund for Nature and Conservation International, emphasizing on environmental preservation rather than indigenous cultural heritage protection (e.g., “East Rennell,” Solomon Islands). It has also been argued that the lack of monumental architecture present in the archaeological record of past societies in the Pacific is a factor in the underrepresentation of Pacific cultural heritage on the World Heritage List. Non-monumental cultural heritage is dominant in the Pacific in comparison to the number of built structures in, for example, Europe; however, there are several prehistoric and historic sites with monumental architecture present in the Pacific Islands, such as “The Ancient Capitals of the Kingdom of Tonga” in Tonga, “Nan Madol” on Pohnpei, the “Pulemelei Mount and associated stone villages” in Samoa or the earthwork terraces (“Ouballang ra Ngebedech”) in Palau, none of which is currently inscribed into the World Heritage List. The move by UNESCO to include cultural landscapes into the Outstanding Universal Value (OUV) criteria acknowledges the longterm dominance of monumental sites and the underrepresentation of cultures whose heritage is associated with non-monumental sites on the World Heritage List (Fowler 2003, 2004). This is 5697 P Pacific Islands: World Heritage, Table 1 World Heritage properties located on Pacific Islands (until 2011) Nominating country Property namea Australia Lord Howe Island (N) Australian Convict Sites (KAVHA, Norfolk Island) (C) Chile Rapa Nui National Park (C) France Lagoons of New Caledonia: Reef Diversity and Associated Ecosystems (N) Kiribati Phoenix Islands Protected Area (N) Marshall Bikini Atoll Nuclear Test Islands Site (C) Tongariro National Park New (M) Zealand Te Wahipounamu – South West New Zealand (N) New Zealand Subantarctic Islands (N) Papua New Kuk Early Agricultural Site (C) Guinea East Rennell (N) Solomon Islands Henderson Islands (N) United Kingdom Hawaii Volcanoes United National Park (N) States of America Papahānaumokuākea (M) Vanuatu Chief Roi Mata’s Domain (C) Inscription date 1982 2008 1995 2008 2010 2010 1993 1990 1998 2008 1998 1988 1987 2010 2008 a C cultural site, N natural site, M mixed site. Italic: properties nominated by Independent Pacific Island Nations (IPIN) particularly important for IPIN where a large number of properties (26 out of 52 sites on the WH and Tentative Lists) have a significant cultural landscape component, for example, “Sigatoka Sand Dunes” in Fiji, “Rock Islands – Southern Lagoon Management Area” in Palau, or “Manono, Apolima, and Nuulopa Cultural Landscape” in Samoa. Smith and Jones (2007) and Lilley (2010) recently defined key themes for 13 organically evolved relict and associative cultural landscapes on Pacific Islands in two ICOMOS thematic studies. Early maritime colonization and settlement patterns, social P P 5698 organization of traditional land uses in marginal environments, and seascapes are important research objectives in Pacific archaeology that also have significant cultural heritage values that are frequently “non-monumental.” The two thematic studies also identified a series of properties, including one transboundary (“Yapese Disk Money Regional Sites,” Federal States of Micronesia/Palau) and one serial site (“Lapita Pottery Archaeological Sites”), with OUV in the Pacific. Nonetheless, only three of the properties mentioned in these studies (“Bikini Atoll Nuclear Test Site,” “Kuk Early Agricultural Site,” and “Chief Roi Mata’s Domain”) have been inscribed into the World Heritage List, with multi-jurisdictional difficulties hindering progress in the nomination of transboundary/serial sites. Current Debates Seven decades of intensive archaeological research in the Pacific have identified a reasonable number of prehistoric sites with OUV, so why are IPIN underrepresented on the World Heritage List? One major factor in the lack of progress in gaining international recognition for Pacific cultural heritage sites, and consequently their protection, is the limited human resources available in most IPIN for the lengthy and increasingly complicated task of coordinating a successful nomination file for assessment through ICOMOS, IUCN, and UNESCO. It appears that efforts to address the underrepresentation of IPIN sites on the WH List are tempered by a real concern that many IPIN do not have the resources to effectively manage and protect significant heritage sites. As a result, nomination files submitted by IPIN are likely to be cautiously scrutinized to determine whether the resources and expertise for cultural site management exist. This is appropriate, but an obvious danger is that the desire to reduce imbalance in the WH List by encouraging IPIN to nominate sites is not matched by practical support to increase the heritage expertise of IPIN to a necessary level. Rejection of IPIN WH site nominations due to a Pacific Islands: World Heritage perceived absence of heritage capacity would likely result in the skewing of WH site representation in a different direction: a higher representation of sites on the WH List from Pacific Islands which have significant relations with developed nations from their current or former status as an overseas territory/collectivity (France, UK, Australia, Chile), state (US), protectorate (Germany) or free association compact (US, New Zealand). Such a trend is already apparent in the 13 World Heritage properties on Pacific Islands with 62 % submitted by developed colonial nations. In addition to a lack of human resources, many IPIN are still developing their heritage capacity with limited legal protection of heritage sites at the local and national level and incomplete cultural site registers. This is particularly important for the nomination of cultural landscapes which generally cover a large area and include numerous archaeological features many of which have not been surveyed/tested by local and international heritage specialists. This has implications for developing a comprehensive conservation management plan, which is now a standard requirement for the successful nominations of heritage properties. A way forward for IPIN is to assemble networks of local communities, external and local archaeologists, anthropologists, and other heritage experts. This is likely to be a key strategy for IPIN wishing to produce World Heritage cultural site nominations as shown in the recent successful nominations of three cultural properties from IPIN (Wilson et al. 2009). One positive outcome of such an approach is that it allows knowledge about the World Heritage Convention (1972) and WH nomination process to circulate through IPIN government and community organizations and it involves close partnership between the local community and archaeologists/heritage experts. Participation of local communities and traditional landowners in the nomination process, particularly the provision of traditional knowledge and the management of sites, is actively encouraged by the World Heritage Convention (UNESCO 1972: }14) and by UNESCO (Asia) Pacific Islands: World Heritage in the Hoi An Protocols (UNESCO (Asia) 2009). The recognition that many heritage sites in the Pacific are embedded in the cultural traditions of local communities and the relationship between a site and the local community requiring specific consideration in the management plan is an important advance in cultural heritage practice. UNESCO is by definition an international body of independent nation states, and only federal organizations (State Parties) are able to submit nomination files for inscription. The process of submitting nomination files has significant implications for IPIN where access rights to heritage sites are largely determined through traditional structures. Uncertainty about the impact of World Heritage nomination to access and stewardship of heritage sites occasionally culminates in legal procedures, where traditional owners seek clarification about the ownership of sites. In these cases, external experts can have an important role in mediating conflicting interests for the benefit of conserving heritage sites for future generations. To avoid legal conflict about sites and resources, it is necessary to properly inform local stakeholders about the purpose and effects of property inscription on cultural practices and economic development during the early planning stages of World Heritage nomination. An additional means of informing stakeholder could be the inclusion of local leaders of World Heritage properties as national representatives to annual ICOMOS/IUCN or UNESCO meetings. Future Directions World Heritage practice in Pacific Islands is only at its beginning. In the last decade, the exposure of local communities to international cultural heritage concepts and conservation practices has led to the desire to have their cultural heritage recognized at the international level, which in turn increases the necessity of protecting IPIN heritage sites. This grass roots approach to cultural heritage management deserves to be supported by the international community. 5699 P Cross-References ▶ Charter for the Protection and Management of the Archaeological Heritage (1990) ▶ Community Engagement in Archaeology ▶ Cultural Heritage Management: International Practice and Regional Applications ▶ Cultural Landscapes: Conservation and Preservation ▶ Heritage and Archaeology ▶ Immovable Heritage: Appropriate Approaches to Archaeological Sites and Landscapes ▶ Indigenous Knowledge and Traditional Knowledge ▶ International Heritage Conservation Principles: Historical Overview ▶ International Council on Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS) (Ethics) ▶ Living Communities: Local Communities in Site Management and Advocates for Site Preservation ▶ UNESCO World Heritage Convention (1972) ▶ UNESCO World Heritage List and “Imbalanced” Properties: An African Perspective ▶ UNESCO’s World Heritage List Process ▶ World Heritage Education, Training, and Capacity Building ▶ World Heritage List: Criteria, Inscription, and Representation References FOWLER, P.J. 2003. World heritage cultural landscapes 1992-2002 (World Heritage papers 6). Paris: UNESCO World Heritage Centre. - 2004. Landscapes for the world: conserving a global heritage. Bollington: Windgather Press. ICOMOS. 2005. The world heritage list: filling the gaps an action plan for the future (Monuments and Sites XII). Paris: International Secretariat of ICOMOS. LILLEY, I. 2010. Early human expansion and innovation in the Pacific: ICOMOS thematic study. Paris: ICOMOS. SMITH, A. & K. JONES. 2007. Cultural landscapes of the Pacific islands: ICOMOS thematic study. Paris: International Secretariat of ICOMOS. UNESCO. 1972. The World Heritage Convention. Paris: UNESCO World Heritage Centre. - 1994. Report of the expert meeting on the ‘global strategy’ and thematic studies for a representative World Heritage List (UNESCO Headquarters, 20-22 June). Paris: UNESCO. P P 5700 - 2004. Action plan: world heritage - Pacific 2009 programme. Available at: http://whc.unesco.org/ uploads/activities/documents/activity-6-1.pdf (accessed 11 April 2010). - 2010. World Heritage List. Available at: http://whc. unesco.org/en/list (accessed 11 April 2010). UNESCO (Asia). 2009. Hoi An protocols for best conservation practice in Asia: professional guidelines for assuring and preserving the authenticity of heritage sites in the context of the cultures of Asia. Adopted by the Asia-Oceania region at the ICOMOS General Assembly in Xi’an. China in 2005. Bangkok: UNESCO Bangkok. WILSON, M., C. BALLARD & D. KALOTITI. 2009. Chief Roi Mata’s domain: challenges for a world heritage property in Vanuatu. Historic Environment 22: 1-19. Further Reading SMITH, A. 2011. East Rennell world heritage site: misunderstandings, inconsistencies and opportunities in the implementation of the World Heritage Convention in the Pacific Islands. International Journal of Heritage Studies 17: 592-607. Pacific Ocean: Maritime Archaeology maritime archaeological projects have been conducted around the Pacific Ocean, and their results have provided unique insights into the human interaction with and within the ocean. Definition The area encompassed by the Pacific Ocean is so expansive that geographers use the divisions of South, Central, and North Pacific when discussing the different regions. The greatest density of the islands exists in its central and southern parts, and cultural groups have inhabited these areas for thousands of years. For the purpose of this entry, the area that will be discussed is Oceania. Oceania can be defined as the islands of the southern, western, and central Pacific and includes Melanesia, Micronesia, and Polynesia. Pacific Ocean: Maritime Archaeology Historical Background Jason T. Raupp Flinders University, Adelaide, SA, Australia Introduction The Pacific Ocean is the largest in the world. Within its vast expanse are thousands of islands which have a rich history of human interaction that stretches back for millennia. Though the distance and the time required for successful crossings created difficulties for seafarers, an understanding of the winds and currents allowed it to be used as a highway (Van Tilburg 2011: 588). Indigenous peoples have inhabited even the most remote parts of the Pacific for centuries; they constructed villages, navigated and traded between islands, and harvested the marine resources they needed for survival. Europeans and Western cultures used the Pacific Ocean for activities such as exploration, colonization, resource extraction, and trade, each of which has left an indelible mark on the cultures and environment of the region. For many years Archaeologists and linguists generally agree that the colonization of the Pacific was a two-pronged movement that began approximately 3,500 years ago (Bellwood 1979: 282; Russell 2009: 63). The first phase involved the settlement of the western Micronesian island groups of Palau, the Marianas, and possibly Yap, and the second involved an easterly movement through Melanesia to western Polynesia, eastern Micronesia, and later the Hawaiian Islands and New Zealand (Russell 2009: 63). Once established on the various islands, complex and distinct cultures developed which were manifested socially, linguistically, and technologically. The connection to the sea was tantamount to these societies, and assemblages of material culture associated with this relationship have been archaeologically documented. The final phase of Pacific colonization was signaled by the appearance of Europeans within the last 500 years (Lilley 2006: 5). Beginning with the Spanish explorers of the sixteenth century, European contact and colonization had drastic effects on the cultures and islands of Pacific Ocean: Maritime Archaeology Oceania. Spain’s success in establishing a trade route across the region led other European countries to explore more regions in the hope of finding new lands and expanding their presence. During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, Dutch, French, and British expeditions sailed throughout the region and made significant geographic and scientific discoveries. Although the Spanish were successful in developing trade routes across the ocean, it was not until the late eighteenth century that extensive trade was established by other nations. At that time the British were focusing their efforts on the colonization of Australia, while American trading vessels from New England were crossing the Pacific and establishing links with China. These voyages allowed traders and colonial powers alike to compile information about available resources of potential commercial interest, and soon stories of sandalwood and significant numbers of seals and whales reached the United States (US) and Britain. This news produced an explosion in the numbers of ships roving the waters of Oceania by the early nineteenth century. The need for freshwater, food, and firewood during these journeys ultimately led to contact with nearly every archipelago, and these interactions had a profound effect on local cultural groups. From the mid-nineteenth to early twentieth centuries, American and European powers developed their colonial holdings in many areas of Oceania. Initially, they served as supply and transshipment outposts for passing vessels, but soon they realized that the climate and environment of the Pacific islands also allowed for the harvest of guano for use in fertilizers and cocoanuts for copra. The development of large-scale agricultural production of crops like sugarcane resulted in the construction of colonial government towns and significant maritime infrastructure to assist in navigation and shipping. The Pacific Ocean was relatively quiet during the First World War; Japan and the US quickly took control of all German colonies there. At the end of the war, Japanese occupation of nearly all former German territories in the Pacific was formally recognized through the Treaty of 5701 P Versailles. Japan quickly established administrative centers in many parts of Oceania and increased maritime infrastructure development through the construction of lighthouses and channel markers, as well as port-related facilities. By the 1930s Japanese military infrastructure construction was also increased in preparation for war. The December 7, 1941 attack by Japan on the US Naval Base at Pearl Harbor in Hawaii had profound effects on Oceania. Many of its island archipelagos became the scene of the Second World War’s Pacific Theater. Prewar occupation of these islands allowed the Japanese military to heavily fortify their installations and establish extensive air bases. Such was the strength of these fortifications that some of the most intense and bloodiest battles of the war were fought on the islands of the Pacific and in the sea and air surrounding them. The results of these battles were devastating and left a permanent mark on the islands. Archaeology in the Pacific is dominated by two main foci: prehistoric colonization of the islands and the activities of the post-1500 historic period. Due to the number of maritime archaeology projects that have been undertaken in the region and the variety of topics covered, a thematic approach to this discussion is appropriate. The context for each theme, which includes colonization, exploration, European trade, resource extraction, conflict, and warfare, is provided, and examples of archaeological investigations pertaining to each are discussed below. Colonization Debates about the post-Pleistocene colonization of the islands and the origin of the first voyagers are ongoing, as research provides new information. According to Ian Lilley (2006: 5), approximately 3,500 years ago seafaring, pottery-making farmers in the Bismark Archipelago established the “Lapita phenomenon” and were the first people to occupy remote Oceania. The Lapita debate is a major focus for archaeological investigations of coastal sites through Oceania and has taken a central theme in literature relating to Pacific P P 5702 prehistoric archaeology over the past decades. Though these studies attempt to determine the earliest occupation of Oceania through the association of pottery types and other aspects of cultures, no definite remains of the watercraft used by the voyagers to make the long trips between the islands have been identified. The reason for this can be explained by considering the organic nature of such craft and the tropical marine environment of the region. Rough sea conditions quickly break up abandoned or wrecked wooden vessels, and the remaining structure is quickly consumed by tropical wood-boring organisms. As watercraft would have been constructed almost entirely of wood and plant products, this would leave very little evidence aside from stone anchors and any stone implements that were onboard. Submerged archaeological sites relating to prehistoric occupation include evidence of early seafaring and marine resource extraction. Sites containing stone anchors and fishing implements have been recorded in several areas of Oceania since the 1960s. Examples of archaeological investigations of such sites include those conducted in Hawaii, French Polynesia, and the Federated States of Micronesia (FSM). Shell fishhooks and scattered basalt artifacts such as stone fishing weights and anchors are abundant in some sites around the island of Oahu in Hawaii. In 1996 archaeologists and students from the University of Hawaii conducted investigations of a scattered collection of lithic artifacts, fish trap weights, and octopus lures directly off of Waikiki (Van Tilburg 2002: 251). The study resulted in the hypothesis that the high-density fishing-related artifacts are found on nearshore-raised reefs due to a greater density of marine life concentrated in the area (Pfeffer 1995; Van Tilburg 2002: 251). Another significant prehistoric maritime archaeological site is located in Mo’orea, French Polynesia, near Tupaparau Pass in the Afareaitu lagoon. Numerous hewn and worked stone objects have been recorded there; objects identified include stone anchors, fishing weights, finished basalt tools (adzes), and a small number of domestic objects. Although the function of the Pacific Ocean: Maritime Archaeology site is still unknown, it is significant due to the fact that hundreds of objects are located in one area (L’Hour 2010: 47). Archaeological evidence of marine resource extraction is common in Oceania. One type of site associated with marine subsistence strategies are fish traps. Such sites are especially abundant in the FSM state of Yap, where local people see their use as a sustainable fishing practice. A comprehensive archaeological survey of fish weirs (locally know as aech) was conducted to assist in prioritizing restoration work and to encourage the revitalization of their use. Conducted in association with the aech owners, village chiefs, and the Yap Historic Preservation Office (HPO) staff, the survey resulted in the location of hundreds of aech and the archaeological recording of a large number of them (Jeffrey 2011). European Exploration Early sixteenth-century Spanish explorers seeking a trade route between Acapulco (Mexico) and Manila (Philippines) were the first known Europeans to enter the Pacific. Once a course was established for what would become known as the Manila Galleon trade, the Spanish established a provisioning entrepôt for their ships at Guam and soon claimed islands in the Carolines, Solomons, and Marquesas. Dutch traders, already long established in Southeast Asia, are also known to have explored parts of the South Pacific in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. However, it was not until the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries that French and English expeditions made significant geographic discoveries in the region. By the nineteenth century other nations also explored the Pacific while making circumnavigations of the globe in the name of science. Several vessels associated with the various expeditions are historically known to have come to grief on the treacherous reefs and in the extreme depths of the Pacific Ocean. An example of a maritime archaeological investigation of lost ships of exploration is that of the French vessels Astrolabe and Boussole in the Solomon Islands. Explorer Jean-François de Galaup, Comte Pacific Ocean: Maritime Archaeology de Lapérouse was engaged in a scientific and exploratory expedition in the region when the two vessels were lost off the island of Vanikoro in the Santa Cruz group in 1788. Though the sites were first discovered by French explorers in the early nineteenth century, they were not archaeologically investigated until 1986. A multinational research team recorded the wreck sites and also located the remains of associated survivors’ camps (Stanbury & Green 2004). Shipwrecks are not the only archaeological remains of European exploration that have been identified. In many cases ships narrowly escaped wrecking but were forced to sever anchor cables in the process. Thanks to excellent record keeping by expedition leaders and their crews, the approximate locations of many lost anchors from such ships are known and, in some cases, have been archaeologically documented. Examples of this are anchors identified in Tahiti from the late eighteenth-century expeditions of both Captain James Cook of England and Louis Antoine de Bougainville of France (L’Hour 2010: 47-48). European Trade While archaeological evidence sheds light on the extensive prehistoric trade networks that existed between the islands, European trade also left identifiable physical impacts. Colonial ports were built throughout Oceania to assist with shipping cargos. Maritime archaeological sites associated with trade include shipwrecked trading vessels and maritime infrastructure sites have been investigated in nearly every island group. Of the sites associated with the post-1500 European period are those related to the Manila Galleon trade. Many vessels are known to have been lost over the trade’s four-century history, and shipwreck sites could provide a great deal of information about the vessels involved, the cargos that they carried, and the conditions that existed onboard. And while the remains of several Manila Galleons have been located, so far all of them have been claimed and impacted by treasure-hunting companies looking to profit from them. Spanish shipwreck sites located near 5703 P the main provisioning points of Guam, Rota, and Saipan have been salvaged by treasure hunters, and as a result valuable archaeological data is lost forever. Wrecks of merchant vessels propelled by sail, steam, and petroleum have been investigated in waters surrounding nearly every archipelago in Oceania. One example of a wreck associated with the copra trade is that of the hulk Elsanore located at the port of Levuka on the island of Ovalau, Fiji. Elsanore was loaded with a cargo of 500 t of copra when it was destroyed by fire in 1895. The wreck site was investigated by archaeologists from the Australian National Maritime Museum in 1998 (Hosty & Hundley 1998). One unique example of a wrecked trading vessel is that of Lenora, a brig that belonged to the famous Pacific pirate Bully Hayes. Hayes’ story was sensationalized by the popular media of the time which portrayed him to be a shrewd swindler, trader, blackbirder, and bigamist (Russell 1982: 4). Hayes used Lenora to engage in the illicit trade known as blackbirding, or kidnapping of islanders and using them as forced labor. In 1981 archaeologists with the US National Park Service (NPS), the Kosrae Historic Preservation Office, and the (then) Office of Historic Preservation, Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands investigated the remains of the wooden brig Lenora in Utwe Harbor, Kosrae (Carrell 1991). Resource Extraction The marine environment and close proximity to deep water of the islands of Oceania has allowed for the exploitation of both pelagic and shallow water species since initial colonization. And over the past 200 years, European and American interests developed industries related to resource extraction in the region. Such industrial activities include fishing, sealing, whaling, pearling, bêche de mer collecting, and guano mining. Archaeological investigations of the remains of the various methods associated with these industries have been carried out in several areas. Of these projects, perhaps the most comprehensive research has been conducted on the archaeology of whaling. P P 5704 By the late eighteenth century, British and American whaleships rounded Cape Horn and entered the Pacific. There, they found rich, new hunting grounds which soon led increasing numbers of whalers who explored the region in search of their prey. In the nineteenth century, vessels equipped for voyages of several years in length roamed throughout Oceania until they filled their holds with valuable oil. Due to the harsh environmental conditions encountered, many vessels were lost on remote and uncharted reefs. Sites of wrecked whaling vessels have been identified in the waters surrounding the FSM states of Pohnpei and Kosrae, as well as Hawaii. Of the known sites of wrecked whaleships that have been investigated archaeologically, those located in Papahānaumokuākea Marine National Monument (in the northwestern Hawaiian Islands) present a unique opportunity to study contemporary vessels from competing nations and the technological changes that occurred over the industry’s peak period. Of the ten British and American whaling vessels are known to have wrecked within the boundaries of Papahānaumokuākea over the first half of the nineteenth century, five have been archaeologically recorded and are the subject of ongoing research (Raupp & Gleason 2010). Conflict and Warfare No other post-1500 European activity has added more to the archaeological record of Oceania than warfare. Activities such as prewar military infrastructure development, commerce raiding, weapons testing, and battles on land, in the air and underwater, have all greatly affected the Pacific region. The physical remains of these activities on land include fortified structures, command posts, gun emplacements, storage structures, and airstrips. In the waters surrounding the various island chains exist the remains of wrecked ships, landing craft, assault vehicles, and aircraft deposited either as a result of conflict or in its aftermath. Archaeological sites associated with the US Civil War, World War I, World War II, and post-WWII nuclear Pacific Ocean: Maritime Archaeology weapons testing have all been investigated in Oceania. Of the warfare-related sites in Oceania, none are more prevalent than those associated with WWII. Clandestine prewar Japanese military buildup began in the 1930s in Oceania, and by the end of the decade extensive, extremely well-fortified bases and ports were complete. Japanese assaults in the region set the scene for some of the most intense combat of the war and left battlefields littered with detritus. While in some places lost or abandoned Allied and Axis military craft were often left to deteriorate in situ, in others they were relocated to dumping areas as part of cleanup efforts and the necessary clearance of obstructions to navigation. As a result of such activities, a large number of unique archaeological sites exist in both shallow and deepwater environments. For many years when such sites were identified, they often only preliminarily surveyed as a result of proposed harbor developments or management planning activities. However, over the past few decades, the significance of these sites and their connection to a shared, global heritage has resulted in an increasing interest among both cultural heritage managers and academic researchers. In that time, archaeological investigations of WWII sites have been undertaken in most of the archipelagos of Oceania, as well as in deepwater locations throughout the Pacific. Beginning with inventories of known sites and surveys at battle locations, research has since flourished, and many innovative projects have been undertaken to better understand the physical and cultural processes that affect sites and in turn how their presence has affected the cultures and environments that surround them. Notable projects include the extensive documentation and interpretation of American vessels sunk during the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor by the US National Park Service (Lenihan 1990); collaborative efforts by the University of Hawaii, NOAA, and NPS to investigate and develop a long-term management strategy for the remains of a Japanese midget submarine sunk in deep water off of Hawaii (Van Tilburg 2006); Pacific Ocean: Maritime Archaeology the use of anthropological approaches to understanding the range of values, meanings, and relevance that archaeological sites in Chuuk Lagoon have for different cultural groups and how this knowledge can assist in site management (Jeffrey 2007); and the development of an underwater heritage trail aimed at highlighting the many wrecks associated with the 1944 Battle of Saipan and encouraging site protection and preservation through sustainable, heritage tourism (McKinnon 2011). Key Issues/Current Debates Many of the key issues faced by maritime archaeological sites in the Pacific are the same as those in other parts of the world. However, issues related to site protection, permitting and access, preservation, and conservation are all compounded by the enormous area in which they exist. The vast distances that must be traversed to access sites make archaeological research and management in many parts of Oceania difficult. The costs associated with accessing these sites are a major limiting factor in the amount of time that can be spent surveying, recording, and/or monitoring them. As such it is possible for unscrupulous visitors and salvage operations to impact the archaeological context of sites without being detected. And as with archaeological sites in other parts of the world, perhaps the most important method for providing protection to archaeological sites in Oceania is through education. Efforts to increase awareness of the fragile and irreplaceable nature of maritime archaeological sites in Oceania are underway and appear to be achieving success in many areas. An example of such can be seen in attitudes towards WWII shipwreck sites in Micronesia. For decades many of these sites were explored and negatively impacted for subsistence, commercial, and recreational purposes. A common practice the world over, local fishers take advantage of the unique artificial reef habitats created by submerged wrecks; however, the methods used for catching 5705 P fish can be devastating to both archaeological sites and to the fishers themselves. These same wrecks have long been popular with diving tourists as well, and early diving activities often had detrimental effects on heritage sites through looting of artifacts and structural stress caused by improper anchoring practices. However, for the past 20 years, government agencies throughout the region have increasingly implemented fishing and diving regulations and educated operators about the need to preserve and protect the integrity of sites. Over time these efforts have succeeded in transforming them into sustainable, heritage tourism ventures. Future Directions The large number of sites that exist in the coastal zones and waters of Oceania and the range of time represented by them provide seemingly endless options for maritime archaeology. Research into the many different phases of human interaction with the Pacific Ocean has long been established, and significant advances in knowledge are consistently being made into Indigenous cultural and environmental adaptation, as well as the activities of historic periods. Future maritime archaeological research and management strategies in the region should employ cost-effective methods to achieve goals that are both culturally and environmentally sensitive. In order to do this, collaboration is the most important key. In times past, inclusion of the various cultural groups of many island communities has often been neglected by researchers, which has resulted in negative impacts upon them and often one-sided interpretations of results. However, recent approaches to archaeological research in the region have focused on inclusive practices and community consultation to ensure that all groups have a voice, and local wisdom is respected. In terms of physical characteristics, the environments in which sites exist offer opportunities for collaboration with members of the community that use the sites and scientists from many different disciplines. Such collaboration will lead P P 5706 to a more holistic understanding of how sites have affected the environments in which they were deposited, and in turn, the effects of their presence on those same environments. Though the vast distances separating Pacific archipelagos have been seen as a major limitation for researchers operating on often unreliable sources of funding, they can also be seen as invisible barriers that provide increased levels of protection to sites. While it is true that for many years sites have been visited, and often negatively impacted, by resourceful divers and relic hunters, the high costs of reaching many areas of Oceania have likely been deterrents to other more destructive commercial ventures like scrap metal operations and large-scale land and port development. As a result, many maritime archaeological sites in Oceania are well preserved and hold great potential to provide insight into human interaction with the world’s largest ocean. Cross-References ▶ Atlantic Ocean: Maritime Archaeology ▶ Descendant Communities in French Guiana: Amerindians ▶ Oceania: Historical Archaeology ▶ Pacific Islands: Finding the Earliest Sites ▶ Ship Archaeology ▶ War at Sea Archaeology References BELLWOOD, P. 1979. Man’s conquest of the Pacific. New York: Oxford University Press. CARRELL, T. (ed.) 1991. Micronesia submerged cultural resources assessment (Southwest Cultural Resources Center Professional Papers 36). Santa Fe (NM): Southwest Cultural Resources Center. HOSTY, K. & P. HUNDLEY. 1998. Maritime archaeological investigation off the port of Levuka, Island of Ovalau, Fiji. Report prepared for Fiji Museum, Fiji. JEFFREY, B. 2007. War graves, munitions dumps and pleasure grounds: a post-colonial perspective of Chuuk Lagoon’s submerged World War II sites. Unpublished PhD dissertation, James Cook University. - 2011. Rocks, wrecks and relevance: values and benefits in maritime and underwater cultural heritage. The Pacific Ocean: Maritime Archaeology MUA Collection. Available at: http://www.themua. org/collections/items/show/1251 (accessed 5 January 2012). L’HOUR, M. 2010. French Polynesia, in UNESCO Underwater cultural heritage in Oceania: 47-8. Paris: Secretariat of the Convention on the Protection of the Underwater Cultural Heritage. LENIHAN, D.J. (ed.) 1990. Submerged cultural resources study: USS Arizona memorial and Pearl Harbor national historic landmark. Santa Fe: National Park Service. LILLEY, I. 2006. Archaeology in Oceania: themes and issues, in I. Lilley (ed.) Archaeology of Oceania: Australia and the Pacific Islands: 1-28. Malden: Blackwell Publishing. MCKINNON, J.F. 2011. Inclusion and negotiation: interpreting underwater battlefield sites for the public, The MUA Collection. Available at: http://www. themua.org/collections/items/show/1251 (accessed 5 January 2012). PFEFFER, M.T. 1995. Distribution and design of Pacific octopus lures: the Hawaiian octopus lure in regional context. Hawaiian Archaeology 4: 47-56. RAUPP, J.T. & K. GLEASON. 2010. Submerged whaling heritage of Papahānaumokuākea Marine National Monument. Bulletin of the Australasian Institute for Maritime Archaeology 34: 66-74. RUSSELL, S.C. 1982. Of wooden ships and iron men: a historical and archaeological survey of the brig Lenora. Saipan: Micronesian Archaeological Survey. - 2009. Prehistoric settlement and indigenous watercraft of the Northern Mariana Islands, in T. Carrell (ed.) Maritime history and archaeology of the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands: 61-94. Report for Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands Historic Preservation Office, Saipan. STANBURY, M. & J. GREEN. (ed.) 2004. Lapérouse and the loss of the Astrolabe and Boussole (1788): reports of the 1986 and 1990 investigations of the shipwrecks at Vanikoro, Solomon Islands (Australian National Centre of Excellence of Maritime Archaeology, Special Publication 8 & Australasian Institute for Maritime Archaeology Special Publication 11). VAN TILBURG, H.K. 2002. Underwater archaeology, Hawaiian style, in C.V. Ruppé & J.F. Barstad (ed.) International handbook of underwater archaeology: 247-66. New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum Publishers. - 2006. Japanese midget sub at Pearl Harbour: collaborative maritime heritage protection, in R. Grenier, D. Nutley & I. Cochran (ed.) Underwater cultural heritage at risk: managing natural and human impacts: 93-5. Paris: ICOMOS International Secretariat. - 2011. Historic period ships of the Pacific Ocean, in A. Catsambis, B. Ford & D. Hamilton (ed.) The Oxford handbook of maritime archaeology: 588-609. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Paddayya, Katragadda Paddayya, Katragadda Praveena Gullapalli1 and Richa Jhaldiyal2 1 Rhode Island College, Providence, RI, USA 2 Department of Anthropology, Ohio State University, Columbus, OH, USA Basic Biographical Information Katragadda Paddayya received his Ph.D. from Poona University (now University of Pune) in 1968, where he studied under Dr. H. D. Sankalia. Sankalia founded the Department of Archaeology at Deccan College Post-Graduate and Research Institute in Pune, India. Paddayya has held a series of positions at Deccan College including Lecturer in European Prehistory, Reader in Field Archaeology, Professor of Geoarchaeology, and Director of the institution. He is currently Professor Emeritus at Deccan College and is on the editorial advisory boards of the Indian Historical Review and the Journal of Social Archaeology. He is an honorary fellow of the Society of Antiquaries of London, and most recently, in 2012, he was awarded the Padma Shri by the Government of India (a national civilian award granted for exceptional and distinguished service). Major Accomplishments Paddayya’s fieldwork has been underpinned and shaped by an exploration of archaeological epistemology, including significant engagement with processual archaeology (1990); as significant as his fieldwork have been his explicit discussions of the nature and development of archaeological theory in India (1995). His field research has focused on the archaeology of the Shorapur Doab in northern Karnataka, India, especially the Paleolithic and Neolithic landscapes of the region. His work, spanning more than 30 years, has made this previously little-known region into one of the best 5707 P documented through extensive systematic surveys and detailed excavations (Paddayya 1982, 2007a; Paddayya et al. 2000). This research, beginning with his dissertation fieldwork on the Neolithic and subsequent projects on the Paleolithic sites of the Hunsgi and Baichbal basins in the same region, has emphasized contextualizing sites within environmental and cultural landscapes (Paddayya 1982) and the role of formation processes in the creation of the archaeological record (Paddayya 2007b). Paddayya has consistently argued that questions of chronology and the reconstruction of the paleoenvironment and past lifeways could be better understood through intensive regional surveys and with a landscape and settlement system perspective, marking a significant departure from the way of prehistoric research was being done in India. This shift in research orientation led to the discovery of many Acheulian sites in varied topographic and sedimentary contexts and allowed for a reconstruction of the Paleolithic cultural landscape. Such an approach has helped identify sites like Isampur, an Acheulian quarry site with evidence for various stages of manufacture. At this site he and his colleagues have delineated toolmaking processes and behaviors (Paddayya et al. 2000) and have explored the possibility of understanding hominid cognition (Shipton et al. 2009). He has similarly contextualized the Neolithic ashmounds of the region, arguing that the ashmounds had to be understood as a part of the physical and cultural landscape and in relation to the various contemporaneous settlements that surrounded them (Paddayya 2002). Paddayya has sought to engage with global archaeological theory and explore its relevance to the Indian context. While acknowledging that archaeology was introduced to India by Europeans, he emphasizes the fact that Indian archaeologists need to grapple with its theoretical apparatus to make it truly productive in India. The uncritical acceptance of archaeological theory would be as problematic as the uncritical rejection of it – rather, there is a space for the development of an Indian archaeological epistemology. P P 5708 For example, in “Theoretical Perspectives in Indian Archaeology” (1995), Paddayya lays out what he calls “indigenous” traditions for studying and understanding the past, such as Hindu and Buddhist historical traditions, and argues that post-processual approaches to the Indian past are possible by being cognizant of the Indian epistemological and philosophical contexts. This engagement with the local context is also seen in his attempts to bring archaeology to the public, either through writing popular articles in English and other Indian languages or the establishment of a museum in the village of Hunsgi and encouraging local schools to visit his archaeological excavations. Cross-References ▶ Indigenous Archaeologies ▶ Lithic Technology, Paleolithic ▶ Post-Processual Archaeology ▶ Processualism in Archaeological Theory ▶ Site Formation Processes ▶ South Asia: Paleolithic Paddy Soils: Environmental Analyses Formation processes and Indian archaeology: 23-35. Pune: Deccan College Post-Graduate and Research Institute. PADDAYYA, K., R. JHALDIYAL & M. D. PETRAGLIA. 2000. The significance of the Acheulian Site of Isampur, Karnataka, in the Lower Palaeolithic of India. Puratattava 30:1-27. SHIPTON, C. M. PETRAGLIA & K. PADDAYYA 2009. Inferring aspects of Acheulean sociality and cognition from lithic technology, in B. Adams & B. S. Blades (ed.) Lithic materials and Paleolithic societies: 219-31. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell. Further Reading PADDAYYA, K. 1977. The Acheulian culture of the Hunsgi valley (Shorapur Doab), peninsular India. Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society 121(5): 383406. - 1978. New research designs and field techniques in the Palaeolithic archaeology of India. World Archaeology 10(1): 94-110. - 1993. Ashmound excavations at Budihal, Gulbarga district, Karnataka. Man and Environment 18(1): 57-87. PADDAYYA, K., R. JHALDIYAL & M. D. PETRAGLIA. 2006. Acheulian quarry at Isampur in Lower Deccan, India, in N. Goren-Inbar & G. Sharon (ed.) Axe age: Acheulian toolmaking from quarry to discard: 45-73. London: Equinox Publishing Ltd. PETRAGLIA, M. D., C. SHIPTON & K. PADDAYYA. 2005. Life and mind in the Acheulean: a case study from India, in C. Gamble & M. Porr (ed.) The hominid in individual context: archaeological investigations of Lower and Middle Palaeolithic landscapes, locales and artefacts: 197-219. London and New York: Routledge. References PADDAYYA, K. 1982. The Acheulian culture of the Hunsgi Valley (peninsular India): a settlement system perspective. Poona: Deccan College. - 1990. The new archaeology and aftermath: a view from outside the Anglo-American world. Poona: Ravish Publishers. - 1995. Theoretical perspectives in Indian archaeology: an historical review, in P. J. Ucko (ed.) Theory in archaeology: a world perspective: 109-47. London and New York: Routledge. - 2002. The problem of ashmounds of southern Deccan in the light of recent research, in K. Paddayya (ed.) Recent studies in Indian archaeology: 81-111. New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers. - 2007a. The Acheulian of peninsular India with special reference to Hunsgi and Baichbal valleys of the Lower Deccan, in M.D. Petraglia & B. Allchin (ed.) The evolution and history of human populations in South Asia: inter-disciplinary studies in archaeology, biological anthropology, linguistics and genetics: 97-119. Heidelberg: Springer. - 2007b. Role of formation processes in Indian archaeology, in K. Paddayya, R. Jhaldiyal & S.G. Deo (ed.) Paddy Soils: Environmental Analyses Heejin Lee Institute for Archaeology and Environment, Korea University, Sejong City, South Korea Introduction Rice is a major staple crop in the world today. The rice growing countries are most of Asian countries, parts of Africa, Europe, and America under tropical, subtropical, and temperate climates. Such significance has drawn enormous attention to the agricultural history of rice from an agronomic perspective. Its historical development has been suggested by excavation of ancient Paddy Soils: Environmental Analyses paddy fields and ethnoarchaeobotanical research on rice remains, and ancient literature studies. However, paddy soil, a type of modified soil by wet rice farming, has been rarely researched regarding its paleo-environmental conditions and cultivation modes. A limited number of prehistoric and historical paddy fields have been investigated: China, Japan, Korea, and Sri Lanka. Here, some general soil pedogenic processes in paddy soil associated with agricultural regimes and research topics on ancient paddy soils are briefly introduced. Definition A paddy field is an artificially submerged habitat of the rice plant created by either using naturally flooded low-lying land or by constructing a bounded field system to keep water with additional irrigation facilities. Human controlled irrigation schemes were initially determined by local climates, landforms, and advanced by technical development in water management over time. Geomorphological settings of paddy fields are generally classified into five types. They include flood-prone, rain-fed lowland, irrigated, rain-fed lowland and upland. At the micro-topographic level, ground and surface water regimes in wetland paddy cultivation based on longevity of saturation encompass stagnant water, stagnogley, and pseudogley, which significantly affect soil physical alteration as well as cultivation modes. The most general types are irrigated stagnogley and pseudogley type paddy soil resulting from submergence and drainage, and their common characteristics observed from buried paddy fields are dark colored soil with high organic content and precipitated nodules or stains of iron and manganese due to repeated oxidation and reduction processes (Moormann & Van Breemen 1978; Greenland 1997). Key Issues Compared to macroremains of rice, recognition of cultivar, and cultivation contexts, employing 5709 P genetic markers and morphological variations is relatively standardized for cross-regional comparison; ancient agricultural soils went through more complicated post-depositional processes and tend to be affected by sedimentation after abandonment of the field. Moreover, locally inherited soil properties such as parent material, acidity, and soil texture are highly varied and their physical and chemical responses to cultivation activities are dynamic. Hence, manifestation of agricultural effects on soil physiochemical alternation is irregular and choosing parameters to determine land use dynamics of paddy rice farming is problematic. However, despite the roles played by local properties in pedogenesis as well as effects by cultivation, there are a few common features of paddy soils to note. Changes to the physical properties of soils by cultivation are induced by puddling (wet tillage) and plowing while preparing land turns and mixes, through breaking up of soil aggregates and re-structuration. Consequently, it causes a plow pan formation by downward movement of clay, creating impermeable zones and constraining plowing effects within the A horizon. On a microscopic scale, concentration of fine particles such as clay and silt, and formation of anomalous clay pedofeatures has been observed (Miura et al. 1992; He et al. 2008; Lee 2011). Concurrently, there are some changes in soil micro-structure and pore space, depending on local soil composition by wetting/drying processes and puddling (Eickhorst & Tippköter 2009). A peculiarity of rice paddy cultivation is considered to be its in-field irrigation regime, which is comprised of artificial waterlogging and intermittent drainage (De Datta 1981). Frequent submergence and desaturation of the land geared at providing air to rice plant roots, as well as weeding, usually triggered complex redoximorphic features of iron and manganese (including precipitated nodules and formation of iron pan) as well as gleying of soil (which is caused by iron movement in waterlogged soil). As a result of the accumulation of organic matter and repressed anaerobic decomposition processes caused by waterlogging, paddy soil usually P P 5710 exhibits high organic components in various forms including fresh organic residue, DOM (dissolved organic matter), and macro- and micro-charcoals. DOM in paddy field is a major contributor of emitted atmospheric methane, which can be stored in ancient paddy soil (Pfeffer 1995; Kögel-Knabner et al. 2010). On the other hand, burning the field after harvest, as well as applications of fertilizers (such as fermented animal manure, crop residue, and/or modern chemical fertilizers), would result in changes to some soil components such as P and Si. In the case of paddy soil, however, use of conventional techniques to study archaeological cultivated soils, such as measurements of phosphate concentrations and magnetic susceptibility enhancement (the latter employed to detect burning), is problematic due to gleying, leaching, and the fact that relatively high values of phosphate and nitrogen can be attributed to fertilizer usage (KögelKnabner et al. 2010). More intensive paddy rice cultivation is reported to trigger hydromorphic degradation by leaching of iron as well as clay domain alignment changes and chemical components of Si, Al from clay minerals, and various soluble elements, resulting in the formation of an E horizon under the paddy soil (Brinkman 1970; Kyuma 2004). Furthermore, redox processes in wetland likely cause precipitation of minerals such as pyrite and siderite. In arid climatic zone, salinization due to excessive water evaporation by high temperature on irrigated paddy soils generally occurs as a form of land deterioration. Although a line of conventional agronomic research on physiochemical composition of paddy soil is informative, its resolution is not high enough to reflect such diversified cultivation mode changes in archaeological paddy soils. In addition to inherited environmental conditions, the main variables to determine the productivity of rice yields and reflection of past cultivation techniques are soil fertility, cultivar variety, planting density, weeding, irrigation regimes, and scheduling corresponding to growth of plant. Issues can be extended to recognizing Paddy Soils: Environmental Analyses duration of past agricultural land including discontinuance of land use often resulting in preservation of paddy field by abandonment and minor local environmental fluctuations in ancient times through soil analyses. Other associated topics such as indigenous or lost methods to replenish soil fertility (Barnes 1990), assessing natural soil fertility by parent material and addition of nutrients by regular flooding, crop-rotation patterns, multiple croppings per year, and long-term interplay with local environmental changes such as groundwater level fluctuations and sea level changes (Zong et al. 2007) are rarely studied and expected to be addressed in further ancient paddy soil research. The recent geochemical and soil micromorphological investigations on ancient paddy soils appear to be able to provide detailed information regarding ancient wet-rice farming schemes. They include detecting the difference between rain-fed and artificial irrigation regimes from prehistoric (c. 1000 BCE) and early historical paddy soils (400–1000 CE) at the Gulhwa and Pyunggeo sites, South Korea, by silty clay concentration pedofeatures exhibiting hydrological alteration and degradation due to irrigation scheme changes (Lee 2011), and a series of cultivation activities and their associated pedofeatures such as trace of harvest by uprooting, presumed application of manuring, burning in field, and development of irrigation toward more human water controlling regimes during Liangzhu period (c. 7,000–4,000 BP) at the Maoshan site near the lower Yangtze region (Zhuang et al. forthcoming). In geochemistry, increase of soil organic matter, movement of iron and manganese, and removal of calcium carbonate in calcareous soil affected by longterm cultivation are noted through examination of a paddy soil chronosequence spanning 1,000 years (Chen et al. 2011). Some view the emergence of paddy rice cultivation as a more active form of rice plant use by inferring infield burning through increased micro-charcoal contents coupled with micro-fossil evidence at the Kuahuqiao site between 7,700 and Paddy Soils: Environmental Analyses 7,550 cal. year BP and at the Tianluoshan site during 5000–2500 BCE, south east China (Zheng et al. 2006; Zong et al. 2007). But soil alteration caused by construction, practice, and management of paddy field and precision of certain soil analysis techniques should be examined in further detail due to the complex nature of paddy soil chemistry. Multiple qualitative analytical techniques can be expected to yield more solid results. Although detecting the evolution of paddy rice farming and its locally diversified trajectories can only be achieved through multidisciplinary research, including here archaeoethnobotanical research and archaeological excavation of buried ancient field systems and irrigation facilities, there are a number of independent research topics that necessarily demand a geoarchaeological approach. First, building up a dataset of chemical and physical soil alterations associated with agricultural practices based on samples from multiple ancient buried paddy soils. This would serve as a crucial tool to assess early paddy soils in which clear field system features are not usually preserved well to understand paleo-environmental conditions and cultivation modes. Further research is also needed to identify possible signatures of different paddy cultivation regimes and to shed light on degradation due to excessive land use. Another challenge is to detect the start of dry rice farming (upland rice) and to recognize paleosols under the influence of dry rice farming. Cross-References ▶ Anthropogenic Sediments and Soils: Geoarchaeology ▶ Archaeobotany ▶ Archaeobotany of Early Agriculture: Microbotanical Analysis ▶ Archaeological Soil Micromorphology Working Group ▶ Environmental Reconstruction in Archaeological Science ▶ Rice: Origins and Development 5711 P References BARNES, G. L. 1990. Paddy soils now and then. World Archaeology 22(1): 1-17. BRINKMAN, R. 1970. Ferrolysis, a hydromorphic soil forming process. Geoderma 3(3): 199-206. CHEN, L.M., W.R. EFFLAND & G.L. ZHANG. 2011. Soil characteristic response times and pedogenic thresholds during the 1000-year evolution of a paddy soil chronosequence. Soil Science Society of America Journal 75(5): 1807-20. DE DATTA, S. K. 1981. Principles and practices of rice production. Las Banos, Philippines: International Rice Research Institute. EICKHORST, T. & R. TIPPKÖTER. 2009. Managementinduced structural dynamics in paddy soils of south east China simulated in microcosms. Soil and Tillage Research 102(2): 168-78. GREENLAND, D. J. 1997. The sustainability of rice farming. Wallingford: CABI. HE, Y., C. HUANG, X. XU, Y. WANG. & X. HE. 2008. Micromorphological features of Paleo-StagnicAnthrosols at archaeological site of Sanxingdui, China. Journal of Mountain Science 5(4): 358-66. KÖGEL-KNABNER, I., W. AMELUNG, Z. CAO, S. FIEDLER, P. FRENZEL, R. JAHN, K. KALBITZ, A. KÖLBL & M. SCHLOTER. 2010. Biogeochemistry of paddy soils. Geoderma 157(1): 1-14. KYUMA, K. 2004. Paddy soil science. Kyoto: Kyoto University Press. LEE, H. 2011. The agricultural land use dynamics associated with the advent of paddy rice cultivation in Bronze Age South Korea. Unpublished PhD dissertation, University of Cambridge. MIURA, K., T. TULAPHITAK & K. KYUMA. 1992. Pedogenetic studies on some selected soils in Northeast Thailand. Soil Science and Plant Nutrition 38(3): 485-93. MOORMANN, F.R. & N. VAN BREEMEN. 1978. Rice: soil, water, land. Las Banos, Philippines: International Rice Research Institution. RUDDIMAN, W.F., Z. GUO, X. ZHOU, H. WU & Y. YU. 2008. Early rice farming and anomalous methane trends. Quaternary Science Reviews 27(13): 1291-5. ZONG, Y., Z. CHEN, J.B. INNES, C. CHEN, Z. WANG & H. WANG. 2007. Fire and flood management of coastal swamp enabled first rice paddy cultivation in east China. Nature 449(7161): 459-62. ZHENG, Y., G. SUN, L. QIN, C. LI, X. WU & X. CHEN. 2006, Rice fields and modes of rice cultivation between 5000 and 2500 BC in east China. Journal of Archaeological Science 36(12): 2609-16. ZHUANG, Y., P. DING & C. FRENCH. forthcoming. Rice cultivation, water management and environmental change: implications of geoarchaeology on an ancient paddy field. Unpublished report for School of Archaeology and Museology, Peking University. P P 5712 Pakistan: Archaeological Museums Ihsan Ali1, Abid Ur-Rehman2 and Mohammad Ashfaq3 1 Abdul Wali Khan University Mardan Pakistan, Mardan, Khybar Pakhtunkhwa, Pakistan 2 Abdul Wali Khan University Museum, Mardan, Pakistan 3 Abdul Wali Khan University Mardan, Mardan, Pakistan Introduction A museum is a nonprofitable institution that caters for conservation and exhibition of artifacts of significant value and educates the society about the human past and her environment through material evidence. The objects in a museum relating to ancient cultures and civilizations are organized in such a manner that spectators can conceive the exact picture of the past. The archaeological investigations in Pakistan reveal the earliest human occupation of Soan Valley near Rawalpindi and Sanghao Cave in Mardan since times prehistoric. The prehistoric caves, rockshelters, workshops, and quarries reported in the tribal belt, Mohmand and Bajaur agencies, Rohri Hills, and the Thar Desert further testify the existence of prehistoric occupations in Pakistan. The evidence of the Neolithic Culture Phase dating from the 9th to the 4th millennium BCE comes from the sites of Mehrgarh, Gumla, Jhandi Babar-I, and Sheri Khan Tarakai. The excavations at Kot Diji and Rehman Dheri provide substantial proof of this period in Sindh and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, respectively, followed by an urbanized and developed Indus Valley or Harappan Civilization, which was almost contemporary to the Egyptian and Mesopotamian Civilizations, followed by the Gandhara grave culture or protohistoric cemetery sites dating to the 2nd millennium BCE were discovered in Swat, Dir, Malakand, Bajaur-Mohmand, Chitral, Peshawar, and Taxila regions. The Gandhara Civilization existed in this region from sixth Pakistan: Archaeological Museums century BCE to fifth century CE. The White Huns, Hindu Shahis, Ghaznavids, Mughals, Durranis, Sikhs, and British ruled and left their footprints in this part of the world from sixth to twentieth century CE. Most of the major museums of the world have relics of the Indus Valley and Gandhara Civilizations exhibited therein. The concept of this entry is to highlight the history of archaeological museums in Pakistan from the 1850s to 2012. This report will serve as a documentary proof of the latest development of museums in Pakistan and will make the world aware of the scope of materials available and exhibited in the Pakistani museums. Key Issues The development of museums over the land where today Pakistan exists started soon after the establishment of the British Government. The first museum was established in Karachi in 1851, followed by one each in Lahore in 1864, Quetta in 1900, and Peshawar in 1907. All of these were public museums and represented mostly ethnological collections. Besides, a few museums were also constructed in some institutions of Lyallpur (present Faisalabad) in 1909 and Lahore in 1910 (Natural History Museum in Government College) and zoological museums, one each at Islamia College, Peshawar, and Rawalpindi both in 1934 for education and research purposes. As a result of large-scale explorations and excavations, a number of site museums were established at Taxila in 1918, Mohenjo-daro in 1925, and Harappa in 1926. In 1937, a private museum was established at Lahore with the title of “Faqir Khana” (Dar 1981: 13). The Swat Museum in 1959 was founded by the Wali of Swat and Dir Museum in 1969 by the then Governor of the province. A noticeable development in the establishment of museums was observed; six archaeological museums were added to the list in Pakistan during 2002–2006 by the Provincial Directorate of Archaeology and Museums, Government of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, under the directorship of Prof. Ihsan Ali. Later on, three Pakistan: Archaeological Museums more museums, two by Hazara University, Mansehra, in 2007–2008 and one by Abdul Wali Khan University, Mardan, in 2012, were established by Prof. Ihsan Ali during his tenures as Vice Chancellor. These museums are located in Gor Khuttree, Peshawar; Pushkalavati Charsadda; Mardan district; Hund, Swabi; Chitral district; Bannu district; Abbottabad district; Hazara University, Mansehra; and Abdul Wali Khan University Mardan. All these museums are functional and represent archaeological and cultural profile of the respective regions of the country. The Victoria Museum, Karachi This Victoria Museum (see Fig. 1) was established by Sir Bartle Frere in 1851 in Karachi (Morley 1981: 10). Originally the museum housed objects of both archaeological and ethnological nature and was representing the artistry, archaeology, and natural history of the country. The museum building was later used by the Karachi Municipal Corporation Department in 1870. Likewise in 1908, various alterations and constructions within and the surroundings of Burns Gardens completely lost the originality of this museum in terms of its architecture and use. 5713 P So due to lack of interest and awareness about the role of museums in societies, this museum remained abandoned since 1870, and the fate of the materials is not known as there is no such record of it. The Lahore Museum, Lahore The Lahore Museum (see Fig. 2) previously known as Jubilee Museum, Central Museum, and Punjab Museum was established by the British Government in 1849. This museum was first opened in Wazir Khan Baradari and represented both archaeological and ethnological cultures of the region. Their antiquities immensely suffered in 1947, when major pieces were shifted to India under an agreement of devolution of cultural properties. Later on the museum building was occupied by the Punjab Public Library. The present Lahore Museum is located near old Food Street in Lahore district, housing rich collection of Buddhist and Islamic art pieces. The fasting Buddha is one among its unique collections. The contributions in the form of explorations, excavations, surveys, and documentations of the Archaeology Department and NCA Department of Punjab University produced valuable antiquities, P Pakistan: Archaeological Museums, Fig. 1 The Victoria Museum, Karachi P 5714 Pakistan: Archaeological Museums Pakistan: Archaeological Museums, Fig. 2 The Lahore Museum, Lahore which are displayed in the museum representing a complete profile of the regions. The McMahon Museum, Quetta The developmental process of this museum was started in 1900 and the museum was formally opened to the public in 1906. Originally the museum housed antiquities of natural history, arts, crafts, and archaeological interest that represented the culture, ethnicity, lifestyle, and traditions of Baluchistan, Afghanistan, Persia, and Arabia. These antiquities were jointly collected by Mr. Hughes Butter and Sir Aurel Stein. In 1935, as a result of a devastating earthquake, most the museum building was damaged. Since then, the museum was shut down and the antiquities were dumped in municipal warehouses. Today, nobody knows anything about the precious antiquities that the museum displayed. The Taxila Museum Sir Alexander Cunningham first started archaeological investigations in Taxila during the period 1913–1934 and produced rich material of sculptures, jewelry, and household utensils. Initially these materials were displayed in a temporary hall which was then shifted to the museum. In 1918, the foundation stone of a new building was laid by the then Viceroy of India Lord Chelmsford and it was formally inaugurated as a museum in 1928 (Ashraf & Lone 2005: 41). Currently the museum is located at about 5 km off the main Peshawar-Islamabad G. T. Road, at a distance of 35 km from Islamabad, with a rich collection of Gandharan art, principally coming from the sites of Bhir Mound, Sirkap, Sirsukh, and the Buddhist monasteries and stupas of Dharmarajika, Julian, and Mohra Muradu (see Fig. 3). The Peshawar Museum, Peshawar The Peshawar Museum (see Fig. 4) was built in 1906 in the memory of Queen Victoria and formally opened in November 1907. In its early days the Peshawar Municipality ran the Peshawar Museum. In 1917 the building and museum was transferred to Local Government supervision. The superintendent of the Archaeological Survey of India, Frontier Circle, acted as curator of the museum. In 1927, the Frontier Circle Office was shifted to Lahore. A full-time curator was Pakistan: Archaeological Museums 5715 P Pakistan: Archaeological Museums, Fig. 3 The Taxila Museum Pakistan: Archaeological Museums, Fig. 4 The Peshawar Museum, Peshawar appointed for the Peshawar Museum, and the building along with antiquities was transferred to the Provincial Government. Often the main hall of the Peshawar museum building was used for investitures, balls, departmental examinations, tea parties, and sessions of the Legislative Council. The museum collections were displayed in the vestibule, side galleries, and upper galleries of the building. The exhibition area covered 4,850 sq ft. The first session of the Legislative Assembly of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, the then North-West Frontier Province, was first time held here on April 19, 1932, inaugurated by the Viceroy of India, Lord Willington (Khan 1972: 3). The Provincial Government fully realized the difficulty and P inconvenience caused to visitors to the museum and disallowed the use of the hall for political purposes. After independence, the museum remained under the direct control of the Director of Public Instructions, Government of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, the then NWFP. In 1971, an autonomous body, under a Board of Governors, headed by the Chief Secretary, was instituted to run the affairs of the museum. In 1992, the Government of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, the then NWFP, established a Directorate of Archaeology and Museums to ensure better protection, preservation, promotion, and safeguarding of the archaeological and cultural heritage of the province; thus the Peshawar Museum became part of the Provincial Directorate. P 5716 The original two-story building, an amalgamation of British and Mughal style architecture, consisted of a main hall and two side aisles on the ground and first floor, surmounted by four elegant cupolas and small pinnacles on all corners. In 1969–1970 on the eastern and western sides of the building, two halls were added in a similar fashion. In 1974–1975, a second story was added to these two side halls. A new block under a project “Extension of Peshawar Museum” was approved in the year 2002 under the supervision of the principal author of this chapter at a cost of Rs. 33.11 million. The project had two components: first, an extension of the museum to construct an Islamic Block with two galleries, a conservation laboratory, two halls for the reserve collection, offices of the Provincial Directorate, and a cafeteria. The second component was a complete remodeling of the existing building including replacement of showcases, lighting, labeling, and display works in all galleries of the existing main building along with refurbishing the floor, ceiling, and structures. When the project was completed, the antiquities were displayed according to international standards. The museum since its early days housed a rich collection of the Gandhara art pieces, excavated and recovered from the major Gandharan sites like Shah-Ji-Ki-Dheri in Peshawar district; Sahri Bahlol, Jamal Garhi, Shahbaz Garhi, and Takht-i-Bahi in Mardan district; and Aziz Dehri in Swabi and from other Gandharan sites excavated by both British and Pakistani scholars. The main collection includes Gandharan sculptures, coins, manuscripts, and copies of the Holy Qurans, inscriptions, weapons, dresses, jewelry, Kalash effigies, Mughals and later-period paintings, household objects, and local and Persian handicrafts. Today the Peshawar Museum is best known for its collection and is ranked as the largest museum in the world in terms of Buddhist art collections. The Dir Museum, Chakdara Dir district in terms of historical and cultural values is one of the most important regions among the districts of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. Pakistan: Archaeological Museums Its territories stretched out between 34 220 and 35 500 north and 71 020 and 72 300 east and mainly comprised of the terrain drained by the Panjkora River and its tributaries. Dir takes its name from the name of a village, Dir, which served as a capital of the state during the Nawab regimes. It is surrounded by Swat district on the east, Bajaur on the west, Chitral on the north, and Malakand Agency on the south (see map). The archaeological expeditions in Dir district were started by the Department of Archaeology, University of Peshawar, during 1966–1969 and excavated sites like Andan Dheri, Chat Pat, Amluk Darra, Damkot, Balambat, Timargarha, Shah Dheri, Gumbatuna, and Shalkandi. To house the collection from these sites, the State Government of Dir constructed a museum in Chakdara. Capt. Rahatullah Khan Jaral, the then Political Agent of Dir Agency, proposed the Dir Museum and allocated a sum of Rs. 2,50,000 for its construction. The Provincial Government afterward allocated an additional fund of Rs. 4,90,000 for the construction of residential quarters, boundary wall, guest house, storage, and other facilities. The museum building was designed by Mr. Saidal Khan, Consultant Architect of the Public Works Department (PWD) of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, the then NWFP. The architect adopted the local style of architecture and constructed the museum with bare stone, called as Malakandi stone. The museum has a fort-like appearance, with a grand facade, consisting of an arched entrance, two square-corner picket towers, and battlements on the parapet (see Fig. 5). The museum remained as a state museum until 1969, and when the state was merged into the province, the museum was handed over to the Provincial Government. The Provincial Government constituted a Board of Governors under the Provincial Educational and Training Ordinance 1970 to run the affairs of the museum and was formally inaugurated on May 30, 1979, by Lt. General (Rtd.) Fazl-e-Haq, the then Governor of the province (Dar 1981: 17). However, the museum was properly organized in 1979. The purpose of the museum is to exhibit the extensive Pakistan: Archaeological Museums 5717 P Pakistan: Archaeological Museums, Fig. 5 The Dir Museum, Chakdara archaeological, Islamic, and ethnological materials of the area. The materials include Gandharan sculptures, coins, jewelry, and weapons. Today the museum has a total collection of 2,161 objects, mainly Gandharan sculptures, coins, and ethnological materials. The display of the Gandharan objects, more than 1,444 in number, revolves around the themes of Buddha’s pre-birth and life stories, miracles, worship of symbols, relic caskets, and individual standing Buddha sculptures. The most represented of the pre-birth stories or Jatakas are Dipankara, Maitryakanyaka, Amara, Syama, and Vessantara Jatakas. The most represented scenes from the Buddha’s life story include Queen Maya’s dream, interpretation of the dream, birth of Siddhartha, bath scene, seven steps, going to school, writing lessons, wrestling matches, palace life, marriage scene, renunciation, great departure, ascetic life, first meditation, demon attacks, attaining enlightenment, first sermon at Sarnath, conversion of Ksyapa, monks, death scene, cremation of Buddha, distribution and guarding of relics, and the construction of stupas on the relics. The miracle of Sravasti and taming of a wild elephant are the two commonly represented miracles, along with different types of the relic caskets and stupa models, along with life-size Buddha statues. Other Gandharan representation comprises of boddhisattvas, atlantes, ichthyo-centaurs, cupids, garland bearers, Corinthian, Persipoliton, Indo-Persipoliton pilasters, and decorative architectural fragments. Most of the Gandhara art pieces come from the sites of Andan Dheri, Chat Pat, Baghrajai, Bumbolai, Jabagai, Shalizar, Ramora, Tri Banda, Macho, Amluk Darra, Nasafa, Damkot, Bajaur and Talash, Dir, Malakand, Balambat, Timargarha, Shamlai Graves, Inayat Qila, Shah Dheri Damkot, Gumbatuna, Jandol, Matkani, and Shalkandi. The Ethnological Gallery of the museum was established in 1977, reflecting on the cultural heritage of the area and presenting a general picture of the life of the people to the visitors. The ethnological material, 498 pieces in all, includes manuscripts, weapons, jewelry, dresses, ceramics, musical instruments, household objects, furniture, and wooden architectural elements. The City Museum, Gor Khuttree, Peshawar The City Museum (see Fig. 6) is located in the Gor Khuttree Complex and can be approached either through Chowk Yadgar from the west or Lahori Gate from northeast of the walled city of Peshawar. The complex occupies the highest P P 5718 Pakistan: Archaeological Museums Pakistan: Archaeological Museums, Fig. 6 The City Museum, Gor Khuttree, Peshawar point center of the city. This site has been identified with the place of Buddhist embellishment relating to “the tower of Buddha’s bowl” and with Kanishka Vihara (Dani 1995). Mughal kings like Babur (Beveridge 1975), Akbar, and Jahangir talked about this site in their diaries and referred this site to the settlement and religious place of Hindu Jogis (a place where Hindu funeral sacrifices and Sardha ceremonies were held) (Roverty 1852: 22-3; Jaffer 1945: 203-4). It was Jahanara Begum, the daughter of Mughal King Shah Jahan (1050 HA or 1540 CE), who converted this site into a caravanserai and named it as Sara-e-Jehanabad and built a Jamia Masjid (a place where Friday prayers are held) and a Hamam (Jaffer 103-6). Upon the recommendation of Nur Jahan Begum, wife of another Mughal king Jahangir, a network of cells on four sides with lofty turrets at each corner, two high archway gates on the eastern and western sides, and two wells were constructed which covered a total of 700 sq ft area and completed the shape of a caravanserai (Ali et al. 2005: 228). Later on from 1838, the Italian General Paolo de Avitabile as Governor/Representative of the Sikh Government made major alterations in the complex. He converted the Jamia Masjid into Gorakhnath Temple and used the cells for official purposes (Jaffer 1945: 103; Durrani et al. 1997: 189). The addition of second storey structure upon the western gate was the alteration he made for public petition and official use (Jaffer 1945: 103). This site remained the focal point of the British Government as well. The 1912 fire brigade building and barracks on the eastern and southeastern corners, respectively, are the alternations they made. Currently, the site is under direct supervision of the Directorate of Archaeology and Museums and Crises Management Unit, Government of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. The City Museum was inaugurated on Pakistan Day on March 23, 2006, by the former Chief Minister Mr. Akram Khan Durrani under the leadership of the principal author of this chapter. The archaeological gallery of this museum represents a continuous profile of the Peshawar Valley in the form of excavation material recovered from the site of Gor Khuttree. This excavation was started by Prof. Dr. Ihsan Ali, the then Director of the Directorate of Archaeology and Museums, in 2002 and today the excavation area with a 49-m-deep trench claims the honor of the deepest excavation in the world, testified through the journal Current World Archaeology (Selkrik 2006: 20). The second gallery is of ethological culture of Peshawar, where household objects, traditional dresses, armaments, ornaments, musical instruments, arts, and Pakistan: Archaeological Museums 5719 P Pakistan: Archaeological Museums, Fig. 7 The Pushkalavati Museum, Charsadda craft objects are displayed. It is worth mentioning that the structural integrity of surviving monuments, museum antiquities, and excavation area within Gor Khuttree Complex produced M. Phil. and Ph. D. scholars at both national and international levels. Dr. Jennifer Campbell from Toronto University, Canada, and Dr. Shah Nazar and Mr. Fazal Sher from Peshawar University are a few scholars whose research was directly based upon the site. The Pushkalavati Museum, Charsadda The establishment of this museum (see Fig. 7) is closely linked with the historical background of the region. Pushkalavati, the modern Charsadda district being the first capital of Gandhara, is situated about 30 km to the northeast of Peshawar. The term Pushkalavati is a combination of two Prakrit words Pushkara/Pushkala and wati/ vati, which, respectively, mean “lotus” and “city.” The area is very fertile and has ponds full of lotus flowers. The lotus flower, which also symbolized Buddha in archaic sect, is still grown in Charsadda. The legendary Hariti Devi and Panchika were born here and converted to Buddhism by Lord Buddha. The Siyama Jataka also took place here (Sehrai 1982; Ali 2003). This region is also known as “Hashtnagar” which is a Persian word meaning “eight villages.” According to Prof. Dani, this name is the corrupt form of “Astes Nagar,” (city or village of Astes) after its ruler Astes who ruled over Gandhara before the onslaught of Alexander the Great (Dani 1966). Here the remains of the two cities have been exposed at Bala Hisar and Shaikhan Dheri, opposite to each other. The second one is situated on the bank of river Jinde, a stream with its source in Malakand Agency flowing through Charsadda and joining the river Swat. The site of Bala Hisar yielded the material dated to the time of the Achaemenian, Greeks, Scytho-Parthians, and Kushans (Wheeler 1962). Prof. Ihsan Ali’s survey conducted in 1993 discovered 144 sites of different types (Ali 1994). The report brought to light a good number of Buddhist stupas and monasteries in this region. Keeping in view the historical wealth of the region, Prof. Ihsan Ali, former Director of the Directorate of Archaeology and Museum, initiated a project for the establishment of a museum on the site of Ghani Dheri, aiming to house both archaeological and ethnological material of the area and educate the people about their rich cultural properties. The museum building was completed, but due to departmental issues, this museum is yet to be opened for public. P P 5720 The Mardan Museum, Mardan The Mardan Museum (see Fig. 8) was proposed by Sahibzada Riaz Noor, the then Commissioner of Mardan, on December 29, 1990. He constituted a Board of Governors in January 1991 to help the establishment of the museum in Mardan district. The museum started functioning in March 1991, and the display work in the solitary hall, measuring 50  22 ft, was completed in April 1991. The Peshawar Museum donated 22 showcases for the display, while the Department of Archaeology, University of Peshawar, rendered technical support. In 1992, with the establishment of the Directorate of Archaeology and Museums, Government of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, then NWFP, the Mardan Museum came under its administration. The Peshawar Museum provided 137 confiscated antiquities to start display work. Initially the old building of the Mardan Museum had a total collection of 419 artifacts, including 258 Gandharan sculptures; 127 coins of Kushan, later Kushan, Kushano-Sasanian, and Hindu Shahi dynasties; 6 terracotta animal figurines; 5 mercury containers; 10 household objects; and 13 agricultural tools. The subject matter of the Gandharan sculptures in the Mardan Museum of schist stone are Queen Maya’s dream; birth of Siddhartha; Pakistan: Archaeological Museums, Fig. 8 The Mardan Museum, Mardan Pakistan: Archaeological Museums bathing scene; the great departure; the first sermon at Sarnath; the conversion of Kśyapa; offerings to Buddha; distribution of the relics; worship of the wheel of law; stupa and alm bowl; Buddha with worshippers and monks; Buddha seated in reassurance pose (Abhaya Mudra); garland bearers; Buddha seated under arches in meditation pose (Dhayana Mudra); Corinthian, Persepolitan, and Aśokan capital; broken architectural elements of pillars, pilasters, harmika, dome, yashthi, chitras or umbrellas, spacers, and floral and geometrical decorative elements from votive and large stupas; broken pedestals with Buddha and Bodhisattva feet; broken hands in different postures; figures of sheep, lion, horse, peacock, and ichthyo-centaurs; and a seated figure of Ardoksho. The stucco sculptures include a seated Buddha in meditation pose (Dhyana Mudra), heads of Buddha, Bodhisattva, and common folk. Though the initial collection of the Mardan Museum is based on the confiscated materials, later the excavated antiquities from Safiabad, Mardan, and Hund, Swabi, were also displayed in the museum. Confiscated antiquities from Katlang, Rustam, and Baja police stations along with the donated objects were also displayed in the old building of the museum. From 2002 onward, under the leadership of Prof. Ihsan Ali, Pakistan: Archaeological Museums the then Director initiated a project for the establishment of a big museum because the old building’s capacity was not enough to house the objects systematically. So the current Mardan Museum, which is located on Mardan-Charsadda road, was inaugurated by the Chief Minister Amir Haider Khan Hoti in 2008. The material displayed in the old building have been shifted here and displayed along with borrowed antiquities from the Peshawar Museum. Today this museum mainly represents the Buddhist art and architectural elements and educates the nation about the past glory of the region. The Hund Museum, Swabi The Hund Museum (see Fig. 9) was established upon the landscape which has been mentioned 5721 P hundreds of years ago by various scholars, the earliest account of which came from Sarada inscription found at Hund which describes this region as Udabhandapura, meaning “the upper town” or high-altitude landscape (Rahman 1979a). Xuanzang, the Chinese pilgrim, who is also known as Hiuen Tsang in historical accounts, mentioned this site in his autobiography of 644 CE as Wa-to-kia-han-cha. Waihand and Ohanad are also the names used for the present site of Hund (Shakur 1946; Rahman 1979b; Ali 1999; Ali et al. 2005). Keeping in view the historical value of the site, the Directorate of Archaeology and Museums under the leadership of Prof. Dr. Ihsan Ali initiated a project based on various activities. In its first phase, the building for the museum, rest house, cafeteria, and a monumental P Pakistan: Archaeological Museums, Fig. 9 The Hund Museum, Swabi P 5722 Pakistan: Archaeological Museums Pakistan: Archaeological Museums, Fig. 10 The Bannu Museum, Bannu Corinthian pillar in the memories of Alexander the Great has been completed, while in the second phase systematic excavations, aiming to determine the complete cultural profile of the region, and construction of a bypass road are yet to be completed. The current museum was inaugurated in 2009 by Mr. Sayed Aqil Shah, Sport, Youth Affairs, Tourism, Archaeology and Museum and represents both archaeological and ethnological wealth of the region. The Bannu Museum, Bannu Bannu basin is connected to the Gomal Valley and is surrounded by hills and mountains. It is very strategically located between the Balochistan plateau, Central Asia, and the plains of the greater Indus Valley. The area was inhabited in prehistoric times and it is no wonder that a few Neolithic settlements and prehistoric sites were recorded here. The sites of Sheri Khan Tarakai (Khan et al. 1986), Lewan, and Akra were excavated jointly by the University of Peshawar and the Bannu Archaeological Mission including the British Museum, the University of Cambridge, the University College London, and Bryn Mawr College from 1984 to 2001. Bannu, having rich cultural history in the form of material evidence, the Directorate of Archaeology and Museums has established a Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology near Allah Chowk, next to the Agriculture Office at Bannu, inaugurated by Mr. Sayed Aqil Shah, Minister for Sports, Tourism, Archaeology, and Youth Affairs, in 2011 (see Fig. 10). The Chitral Museum, Chitral Chitral district is one of the famous regions among the regions of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and best known for its indigenous culture and quaint beauty. The district lies in the northwestern part of the province, between 71 120 and 73 530 longitude and between 35 130 and 36 550 latitude, bounded on the west by the Badakhshan Province of Afghanistan, on the east by the Northern Areas of Pakistan, on the north by the Wakhan Province of Afghanistan, and on the south by Dir and Swat districts (Ali et al. 2002). The altitude of the district from sea level is about 1,129 m at Arandu to 3,658 m at Baroghil (Raza 1994). The landscape is rugged and mountainous, while the valleys developed in deep narrow and tortuous areas. Natural streams and channels of river Chitral run through all valleys (Dichter 1967). The archaeological expedition to Chitral conducted by Peshawar University; Bradford and Leicester Universities, UK; and the Directorate of Archaeology and Museums, Pakistan, unearthed a number of Gandhara grave culture or protohistoric cemetery sites in the district. The historic-period sites of this Pakistan: Archaeological Museums 5723 P Pakistan: Archaeological Museums, Fig. 11 The Chitral Museum, Chitral district have also contributed to the establishment of cultural profile of the district. Chitral, with its multifaceted culture, history, and archaeology, led the Directorate of Archaeology and Museums under the leadership of Prof. Dr. Ihsan Ali to establish a museum there. This museum was inaugurated by the late Saleh Mohammad, former Director, in 2008. The displayed material include dresses, armaments, ornaments, wooden effigies, household objects, and Gandhara grave culture materials (see Fig. 11). The Abbott Museum, Abbottabad Prof. Dr. Ihsan Ali as a Vice Chancellor of Hazara University, Mansehra, completed the establishment of this museum which was formally inaugurated by Mr. Nisar Muhammad Khan, the then Federal Minister, on February 22, 2008. The museum represents archaeological profile of the province in general and Abbottabad and Haripur districts in particular. In 2006–2007 the staff of the said museum under the leadership of Prof. Dr. Ihsan Ali initiated archaeological investigations in Hazara division. The surface collection of the survey conducted at Abbottabad and Haripur districts in the form of potsherds, bones, iron and metal objects, and photographs embellished the archaeological gallery of this museum. The material recovered from the preBuddhist grave site at Gankorineotek in Chitral district, excavated in 2008 through INSPIRE project, which was jointly run by Hazara University, Mansehra; Abdul Wali Khan University Mardan; British Council, Islamabad; and Leicester University, UK, are displayed in the main hall of this museum which educate the spectator about past glories (Ali et al. 2010). Household objects, armaments, ornaments, wooden furniture, and dresses are the main objects representing the culture and tradition of the area. The representation of Buddha’s life story in watercolor painting and images of those political personalities who contributed directly or indirectly into the establishment of Abbottabad town in Burning Artwork in the said museum is the unique idea of Prof. Dr. Ihsan Ali to promote modernized arts and to pave a new way for students of other academia to contribute to archaeology. A beautiful cultural diorama adorned with traditional furniture, household utensils, and colorful arched facade is an eyecatching element of this museum (see Fig. 12). Hazara University Museum, Mansehra The establishment of the Hazara University Museum (see Fig. 13) is another achievement of Prof. Dr. Ihsan Ali as a Vice Chancellor. This museum was formally inaugurated by the then Honorable Governor of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa Mr. Owais Ahmad Ghani on February 13, 2008. It houses a diverse collection of archaeological P P 5724 Pakistan: Archaeological Museums Pakistan: Archaeological Museums, Fig. 12 The Abbott Museum, Abbottabad Pakistan: Archaeological Museums, Fig. 13 The Hazara University Museum, Mansehra and ethnological materials representing different occupational and cultural background of the region. The materials are either obtained through explorations and excavations or purchase and donation. The excavations at Gandhara grave culture sites in Chitral district (Ibid) and Bedadi site in Shinkiari, Mansehra, revealed a fairly large number of antiquities which are displayed in the museum and give an authentic dataset for educational and research purposes. The material came from the archaeological survey of Mansehra district, conducted by the staff and students of the Archaeology Department under the leadership of Prof. Dr. Ihsan Ali in the form of potsherds, wooden objects, grave headstones, urn burials, and Gandharan stone panels that Pakistan: Archaeological Museums 5725 P Pakistan: Archaeological Museums, Fig. 14 A 3D view of the proposed Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology at Abdul Wali Khan University Mardan make up the collection of this museum. The museum also received a lavish donation of 114 relics and 72 coins from the Governor House. Household objects, ornaments, armaments, and Buddha birth scene in watercolor painting and different poses of Buddha in mirror work are of great interest for the spectators. Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Abdul Wali Khan University Mardan The Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Abdul Wali Khan University Mardan (see Fig. 14), is located at the main campus of the university, situated to the north of the Kabul River between 34 050 and 34 320 north and 71 490 and 72 240 east in the heart of ancient Gandhara about 64 km from Peshawar. The excavations at Sanghao Cave in Mardan district by Dr. A. H. Dani in 1963 pushed the history of this region back to 40,000 years (Dani 1999). King Asoka (third century BCE) inscribed the creed of Buddhism on the rocks at Shahbaz Garhi in Mardan and popularized the religion of peace and tranquility. During the time of Scytho-Parthians (first century BCE) and Kushanas (first century CE), the real expansion of Buddhism took place and a new era was ushered in. Hundreds of stupas and monasteries were erected for the propagation of the law of Dhamma. Chinese and Korean travelers and pilgrims, who came here, recorded the existence of these sites. The site of Jamal Garhi, Sahri Bahlol and Shahbaz Garhi including Takht-i-Bahi which is on UNESCO’s World Heritage List is located in this district that yielded a great volume of the Gandharan art pieces that are currently on display at Peshawar, Mardan, Lahore, and Karachi museums. Keeping in view the historical and cultural wealth of the area, Prof. Dr. Ihsan Ali, as a Vice Chancellor of the Abdul Wali Khan University Mardan, laid the foundation stone of the University Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology on July 20, 2011, and formally inaugurated the museum through Sayed Aqil Shah, Minister for Sports, Tourism, Archaeology, and Museums and Youth Affairs on December 22, 2012. This museum has been established with the main objective to educate and engage staff and students in extramural activities of the university. The students are given an opportunity to improve and demonstrate their knowledge and communication, leadership, and management skills by designating them tasks related to different activities of the museum. This will enable them to improve their level of understanding P P 5726 about past and present glories. Moreover, it will not only change their environment but they can express their aptitude which will certainly help them choose a profession of their interest in the future. The museum is equipped with ethnological materials which are systematically displayed in eight galleries. The first two galleries represent household objects, ornaments, armaments, coins of different periods, and straw-made items mostly purchased and a few donated. The third gallery is a Swat cultural, where a diorama of Swat valley has been established, embellished with wooden art pieces like engraved pillars, doors, and furnitures. The fourth gallery represents Kalash culture, where the Gandhara grave culture objects, traditional Kalash household utensils, dresses, ornaments, and armaments have been displayed. The fifth gallery represents contemporary art gallery, where pieces of wooden, marble, and straw artwork present the artistry of the region. The sixth gallery presents the color of the province in the form of photographic representation, capturing the culture, traditional games, cuisines, built heritage, and beauty of the province. The seventh gallery represents the vision of Islamic art. Calligraphic Qurans, books, objects of wooden block printings, tile work, and decorative household objects are displayed here. The eighth gallery represents traditional dresses and jewelry. The last two galleries are kept vacant for the archaeological material, and it is hoped that archaeological material will soon be arranged via departmental loan act or donation or through excavations. The digitization of the museum artifacts has also been started, and each object is recorded on a database after its physical verification. The detailed description of selected objects like jewelry, Islamic calligraphy, wood art, marble art, and henna art, from barter system to coinage and manual plow displayed in various galleries made this museum one of the best in Pakistan in terms of evolutionary descriptions. The distribution of antiquities, systematic display, lighting, and detailed authentic descriptions of objects today educate the students and allow researchers to look at the past through material evidence and evaluate the difference (Tables 1 and 2). Pakistan: Archaeological Museums Pakistan: Archaeological Museums, Table 1 List of other museums in Pakistan S_no Name of museum 1. Sir Sahibzada Abdul Qayum (SSAQ) Museum 2. Swat Museum 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. City University of Peshawar Saidu Sharif Kalash, Chitral Islamabad Province Khyber Pakhtunkhwa Khyber Pakhtunkhwa Bamburet Museum Khyber Pakhtunkhwa Quaid-e-Azam Federal University Museum Capital Lok Virsa Museum Islamabad Federal Capital Islamabad Museum Islamabad Federal Capital Army Museum Rawalpindi Punjab Bahawalpur Museum Bahawalpur Punjab Harappa Museum Sahiwal Punjab Mughal and Sikh Lahore fort Punjab galleries Banbore Museum Thatta Sindh Umarkot Museum Thar Sindh Hyderabad Museum Hyderabad Sindh National Museum Karachi Sindh Shah Abdul Latif Khairpur Sindh University Museum Mohenjo-daro Larkana Sindh Museum Pakistan: Archaeological Museums, Table 2 List of proposed museums 1. Site Museum at Takht-iBahi, UNESCO World Heritage Site 2. Tribal Museum Takhti-Bahi Khyber Pakhtunkhwa Khyber FATA Agency 3. Museum in each district of the country Cross-References ▶ Heritage Museums and the Public ▶ Regional/Site Museums ▶ Universal Museums Palace of the Boyne (Brú na Bóinne) References ALI, I. 1994. Settlement history of Charsadda District. Ancient Pakistan 9:175. - 1999. Urbanization in the Kushan time. Journal of Asian Civilizations XXII (1) 1-38. - 2003. Early settlements, irrigation and trade-routes in Peshawar Plain, Pakistan (Frontier Archaeology 1). Peshawar, Pakistan. ALI, I., BATT, C., CUNNINGHAM, R., & R. YOUNG. 2002. New exploration in the Chitral Valley, Pakistan: an extension of Gandharan grave culture. Antiquity 76 (293): 647-53. ALI, I., ZAHIR, M., & I. KHAN. 2005. Report on the excavations at Gor Khuttree, Peshawar (2003-04) (Frontier Archaeology 3). Peshawar, Pakistan. ALI, I., I. SHAH, A. HAMEED & A. AHMAD. 2010. Gankorineotek (Chitral) excavations, second field season (2008). Pakistan Heritage 2: 209-38. ASHRAF, M.K. & A.G. LONE. 2005. Taxila, home of stucco art. Islamabad, Pakistan: 786 Printers. BEVERIDGE, H. (trans.) 1975. The Babar Nama [Tuzke Babari]. Lahore: Panco Press. DANI. A. H., 1966. Shaikhan Dheri excavation (1963–64). Ancient Pakistan 2. - 1995. Peshawar, the historic city of frontier. Lahore: Sang-e-Meel Publications. - 1999. Sanghao Cave excavation. The first season 1963. Ancient Pakistan 1: 1-50. DAR, S.R. 1981. Development of museums in Pakistan: prospects and problems. Journal of Museology and Museum Problems in Pakistan 19: 13-26. DICHTER, D. 1967. The North West frontier of Pakistan: a study of regional geography. Oxford: Clarendon Press. DURRANI, F.A., T. ALI & I. REHMAN. 1997. Excavation at Gor Khuttree, a preliminary note. Āthāriyyāt (Archaeology) 1. JAFFER, S.M. 1945. Peshawar, past and present. Peshawar: Khan. KHAN, M.A. S. 1972. A short constitutional history of North-West Frontier Province. Peshawar, Pakistan (in Pashto). KHAN, F., J.R. KNOX & K.D. THOMAS. 1986. Sheri Khan Tarakai: a new site in the Northwest Frontier Province. Journal of Central Asia IX(1): 13–34. MORLEY, G. 1981. Brief history of museum development in Asia. Journal of Museology and Museum Problems in Pakistan 19: 9-12. RAHMAN, A. 1979a. Hund slab inscription. Journal of Central Asia II(1): 71-18. - 1979b. The last two dynasties of the Shahi’s. Islamabad: Centre for the Study of the Civilization of Central Asia, Quaid-e-Azam University. RAVERTY, H.G. 1852. An account of the city and province of Peshawar. Translated by the Bombay Geographical Society X. RAZA, M.H. 1994. Mountains of Pakistan. Islamabad, Pakistan. 5727 P SEHRAI. F. 1982. The Buddha story in Peshawar Museum. Peshawar. SELKRIK, A. 2006. Pakistan, cover story CWA reports on the current excavations and star sites of northern Pakistan. Current World Archaeology 16. SHAKUR, M.A. 1946. A hand book to the inscriptions gallery in the Peshawar Museum. Peshawar: Peshawar Museum. WHEELER, R.E.M. 1962. Charsadda, a Metropolis of the North-West frontier. London: Oxford University Press. Further Reading ALLCHIN, F.R. 1995. The archaeology of early historic South Asia: the emergence of cities and states. New York: Cambridge University Press. BEAL, S. (trans.) 1957. Chinese accounts of India. Calcutta: Susil Gupta. CAMPBELL, J.L. 2011. Architecture and identity: the occupation, use and reuse of Mughal caravanserais. University of Toronto, unpublished. CAROE, O. 1962. The Pathans. London: Macmillan & Co., Ltd. CUNNINGHAM, A. 1863. The ancient geography of India, the Buddhist period. London: Trubner. - 1871. The ancient geography of India. London: Trübner & Co. DAS, G. 1874. Tarikh-i-Peshawar. Lahore: Sang-e-Meel Publications. FAZAL, A. 1902-1939. Akbar Nama. Translated by H. Beveridge. Lahore, Pakistan. FOUCHER, A. 1915. Note on the ancient geography of Gandhara, Calcutta. Calcutta: Superintendent of Government Printing. Gazetteer of the Peshawar District, 1897-98. Lahore: Sang-e-Meel Publications. Palace of the Boyne (Brú na Bóinne) George Nash Department of Archaeology & Anthropology, University of Bristol, Bristol, UK Introduction Large and imposing prehistoric stone monuments never appear to stand in isolation nor are they constructed as a single event. Since the advent of chronometric dating techniques and good systematic fieldwork, archaeologists are beginning to understand the chronology and complex P P 5728 development of burial-ritual monuments and the landscapes they inhabit (e.g., Edmonds 1999; Thomas 1999). Irish passage tombs (or graves), in use between the fourth and third millennium BCE, form part of a much wider Atlantic sequence that probably has its origins in the Iberian Peninsula (Shee-Twohig 1981; Grogan 1991; Nash 2012). They are arguably the most noticeable Irish monument group and number around 220, although only 50 contain passage grave art (Waddell 2005: 74). They are usually clustered in groups forming cemeteries and are distributed in a distinctive northeast/southwest band across central and Northern Ireland. Along with the Boyne Valley complex, the two passage tomb clusters at Loughcrew and an array of Neolithic monumentality including the Mound of the Hostages occupy the Hill of Tara (Co. Meath) and make for a busy ritual presence within this part of Ireland (Stout 2003; O’Sullivan 2005). This distinct architectural form usually comprises a circular (sometimes subcircular) mound which is delineated by a stone kerb. Mounds vary in size, between 10 and 85 m in diameter, and usually cover an east–west oriented passage (ranging between 1 and 40 m in length) that leads from a facade/ entrance to a chamber, deep within the heart of the mound. It is on components such as the kerbing, passage, and chamber where a unique prehistoric rock art tradition is engraved, sometimes referred to as passage grave art or megalithic art (Shee-Twohig 1981; Eogan 1986). This sometimes hidden signature is a nonrepresentational repertoire and comprises geometric and curvilinear motifs such as chevrons, concentric circles, spirals, and zigzags; no two panels across the entire assemblage are the same, each stone reflecting a unique narrative (Lynch 1973; Shee-Twohig 1981; Eogan 1986; O’Sullivan 1986, 1993; Cochrane 2006; Nash 2006). Many motifs present within the larger monuments are distinctively regionalized such as the double and triple spiral and the radial variants found in at Newgrange or the crescents and serpentiniforms from Knowth. Analysis has identified certain areas of the monument that Palace of the Boyne (Brú na Bóinne) contain either curvilinear or rectilinear motifs (see in particular by Elizabeth Shee-Twohig 1981; George Eogan 1986 and Muiris O’Sullivan 1986, 1993). Closely associated with rock art and the architecture is the way that the dead are brought to the monument and where they are deposited, along with the grave goods that accompany them. Throughout the passage grave tradition where preservation allows, burial rites and symbolic behavior as shown through the artifact assemblages appear to be identical, passage tombs acting as repositories for successive generations of people, each mound representing a periodic corporate act of internment. Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples Signaturing Landscape The 35 Neolithic monuments, standing within a postmedieval agricultural landscape, occupy the northern river terrace gravels (regarded as highpoints within the valley landscape) and ridges of a bend within the Boyne Valley, County Meath, central-eastern Ireland. The bend in the River Boyne, designated a World Heritage Site in 1993 (Referred by UNESCO to as an Archaeological Ensemble of the Bend of the Boyne), appears to enclose this landscape of over 785 ha. Here, the course of Boyne appears to physically separate ritual space immediately north of its banks from secular space to the south during a time when the passage tombs are the focus of extraordinary community activity. However, secular monuments in the form of circular stock enclosures and evidence of settlement, located among the ritual monuments, probably represent earlier and later utilization of the landscape before and after passage tombs are in use (Eogan 1991). The monument group, comprising mainly passage tombs of varying size and clustered into four distinct groups, is one of Western Europe’s most concentrated and has as its foci three massive circular or ovoid stone chambered Neolithic passage tombs – Dowth in the east, Knowth in the west, and Newgrange in the central part of Palace of the Boyne (Brú na Bóinne) 5729 P Palace of the Boyne (Brú na Bóinne), Fig. 1 The distribution of the Boyne Valley group of monuments including the passage graves of Newgrange, Knowth and Dowth the bend (Fig. 1) (O’Kelly 1982a, b; Eogan 1986). Apart from these monuments, this ritual complex is also home to an array of smaller [satellite] passage tombs, monoliths (standing stones), later post-passage grave henges and earthen enclosures (Stout 1991), and evidence of pre- and post-passage grave settlement. Early pre-cairn Neolithic settlement is witnessed with the excavation of longhouses located within the northern part of the Knowth site, dated to around 3900 BCE. Prior to the construction, between 3300 and 2900 BCE, later settlement then shifts to the western part of the site with the construction of further longhouses (Eogan & Roche 1997; Cooney 2000). Concerning the Late Neolithic post-cairn ritual landscape, enclosures and henges would have indelibly stamped their presence on the Late Neolithic landscape. Establishing Monumentality The monuments that occupy the northern terracing of the Bend of the Boyne are arranged into four clusters; three of these center around the three large passage tombs, while a fourth linear cluster stands between Dowth and Newgrange. The largest and arguably the most impressive of the three passage tombs is Newgrange (Gaelic: Sı́ an Bhrú). This circular stone, earth- and turf-constructed monument was built between 3,295 and 2,925 cal BCE, at a time when there were a large number of passage grave monuments being erected around the Neolithic core areas of Atlantic Europe (Grogan 1991: 126). Its dominance, standing on a small ridge along with a series of enclosures, standing stones, and tumuli within the Boyne landscape, would have probably provided the pilgrim with an obvious visual and ritual focus (Fig. 2) (O’Kelly 1982a, b). The slightly oval mound measures 85.3 m in diameter and stands 12 m, covering a total area of around 0.45 ha. The central section of the cruciform chamber has a corbelled vaulted roof that extends some 3.5 m into the core of the mound, while the roofs of the side chambers have flat slabs. The long passage is constructed of 43 upright stones (21 on along the eastern side and 22 along the western wall); some of these are decorated with carved abstract images. Outside, the mound is delineated by 97 kerb stones made of local grit (graywacke) or slate and each decorated on both the external and internal P P 5730 Palace of the Boyne (Brú na Bóinne), Fig. 2 Newgrange from the Boyne (Image: G.H. Nash) surfaces with carved rock art. Based on the seminal work of Shee-Twohig (1981), Newgrange has up to ten types of motif that include curvilinear (arcs, circles, cupmarks, cup-and-rings, serpentiniforms, and spirals) and rectilinear forms (chevrons, lozenges, radials, parallel lines, and offsets); Knowth is similarly embellished. Over its long history, Newgrange underwent a number of phases of use and abandonment. Similar to other passage tombs elsewhere, Newgrange is constructed using a tried and tested blueprint that includes four major architectural elements: circular mound, entrance/facade, passage, and chamber. These primary architectural elements are arranged in such a way to make the architecture of Newgrange unique (Nash 2006). According to Michael O’Kelly, the archaeologist responsible for excavating Newgrange, some of this architecture is aligned to ritually acknowledge a number of celestial and cosmological events such as the winter solstice. An extensive archaeological excavation of Palace of the Boyne (Brú na Bóinne) Newgrange revealed a number of unique traits including a roof-box above the main entrance, abstract passage grave rock art both inside and outside the monument, and a 19-m-long east–west passage that was deliberately constructed in such a way to restrict the visual access between the entrance/facade and the cruciform chamber, a trait repeated in passage grave monuments throughout the Neolithic. The roof-box, unique to the European passage grave tradition, was possibly constructed in order to allow a beam of light to penetrate the back of the chamber during the midwinter solstice (Lynch 1973: 152). One of the earliest detailed archaeological plans of the three passage tombs was made by Welsh antiquarian Edward Lhwyd in 1699. Lhwyd was alerted when farm laborers discovered the entrance at Newgrange when digging the mound for stone, and as a result, he made a detailed plan of the internal arrangement of the passage and chamber areas. Following in the footsteps of Lhwyd were a number of antiquarians who undertook various pieces of work both inside and outside the monument, some suggesting that the monument was constructed during the early medieval period by marauding Vikings; others considered the ancient Egyptians as the builders. Between the time of Lhwyd and until it was taken under the control of the state (then, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland) in 1882, the monument and the surrounding landscape had been under great threat, mainly the result of vandalism and farming practices. Following statutory protection, Newgrange underwent a significant conservation program in 1890 under the directorship of Thomas Newenham Deane. During the early to mid-twentieth century, Newgrange was investigated a number of times in order to establish its construction methodology and date. It was still considered at this time as a Bronze Age monument rather than Neolithic. Throughout this period and in addition to the intense archaeological activity, the site had become a focus for tourism (e.g., Macalister 1939), and as a result, electric lighting was installed in the passage area during the 1950s. The site also became a local Palace of the Boyne (Brú na Bóinne) Palace of the Boyne (Brú na Bóinne), Fig. 3 entrance and the decorative sill stone 5731 P Photograph taken by 19th century photographer R. J. Welch of the tourist attraction with numerous visitors leaving their mark, usually in the form of graffiti. To some, the entrance became an evocative statement of a bygone megalithic age (Fig. 3). The largest and most comprehensive investigation of the site was undertaken by Michael O’Kelly between 1962 and 1975 where a sporadic sequence of prehistoric activity, from the Late Mesolithic (Residual (disturbed) Late Mesolithic flint tools have been recovered from Bronze Age Beaker context from Newgrange (Cooney 2000: 30).) to the Iron Age and beyond, was unearthed. Following O’Kelly’s exhaustive excavation program, the site was controversially restored. During excavation, white quartzite was found in high concentrations around the base of monument, in front of the kerbing, either side of the façade. O’Kelly considered the white quartzite stones to have originally been fixed to the nearvertical mound walls, and as a result of this, the restoration program fixed a wall of white quartzite stones and river cobbles to a steel-reinforced concrete retaining wall that surrounds the eastern section of the mound, including the area around the façade. This extremely obvious display of this section of the mound arguably contradicts the concept of restricting the visual access of the monument (Nash 2006). Moreover, a similar deposit was found around one of the entrances to Knowth. Eogan, the archaeologist responsible for excavating Knowth, considered the quartzite deposit to be a ritualized pavement (Eogan 1986: 47). At the extreme east of the bend and standing on a short oval ridge, around 250 m east of the Boyne, is Knowth (Gaelic: Cnobha). The ovateshaped mound measures 81 m by 95 m and is delineated by 127 decorated kerbstones. Unusually for the European passage grave tradition, there are two passages leading to two chambers (entered from the east and west), both discovered through excavation in 1967 and 1968 by George Eogan’s team who originally started investigating the site in 1962 (The site was briefly investigated by R.A.S. Macalister in 1941). Surrounding the monument are at least 18 smaller satellite P P 5732 Palace of the Boyne (Brú na Bóinne) Palace of the Boyne (Brú na Bóinne), Fig. 4 Mid-19th century engraving of Dowth prior to excavation in 1847 by W.F. Wakeman and published in his Hand-book of Irish Antiquities (1848) passage tombs of varying shape and size (Eogan 1986). According to a useful synthesis by Cooney (2000: 83-5) based on investigations by Eogan and Roche (1997), the satellite monuments developed soon after the construction of Knowth, probably around 3,000 BCE. The slightly ovate mound supports two diametrically opposed chamber and passage arrangements, one entering from the eastern side of the mound and the other from the west; both aligned on the March and September equinoxes (Eogan 1986: 178). The eastern chamber is cruciform in plan and is connected by a 35-m-long passage while the undifferentiated western chamber has a 32-m-long passage. Carved on much of the stone, including those surfaces that face inwards towards the mound, is an array of passage grave art. Archaeologists have also uncovered a white quartzite pavement around the eastern façade area as well as granodiorite, a phaneritic igneous rock found in other parts of the monument. The visual display of the rock art, the color symbolism of the quartz pavement, and other elements would have carried religious meaning. Dowth (Gaelic: Dudhadh), the leastinvestigated of the three passage tombs, was probably constructed around 2,500 BCE (Fig. 4). The mound, measuring 85 m in diameter and standing over 15 m in height, sits on one of the highest points within the Bend of Boyne’s landscape. From the top of the mound, there is clear intervisibility with Knowth and Newgrange. Similar to the other two passage tombs, the mound at Knowth is delineated by a series of kerbstones, some of which are engraved with passage tomb art. Within the vicinity of the entrance and façade is evidence of a white quartzite pavement. The mound was unceremoniously excavated in 1847 under the direction of county surveyor R.H. Frith (on behalf of the Royal Irish Academy), the result being much of the western section of the mound being completely removed, and no official records of the excavation were made. Before work commenced, a curious building known as the gala music room was demolished. This building had stood on the summit of Dowth since before 1775 (Harbison 2007) (present on Gabriel Beranger’s copy of an engraving of 1775). Palace of the Boyne (Brú na Bóinne) Constructing the Boyne Landscape We are somewhat fortunate that two of the three giant passage tombs within the Bend of the Boyne have been excavated in recent times, both applying modern archaeological excavation techniques. Furthermore, and as a result of these recent excavations, there has been a number of useful discussions concerning their origin, use, demise, and the landscape in which they sit (Cooney 2000). There is a clear chronological development of the secular and ritual landscapes that commence from the Late Mesolithic/Early Neolithic through to the demise of the passage grave tradition during the Late Neolithic. This heavily ritualized landscape is later replaced by a subtle, less commanding landscape of the henge and enclosure. The use of the natural topography along with the physicality of the River Boyne clearly shows an intentionality to enclose a ritual landscape, possibly separating ritual from secular activity. The monuments themselves appear to act as a catalyst for ritual and symbolic behavior, the landscape being the backdrop. Both the dead and the living would have each participated in the ritual in and around each monument, the dead as passive participants embarking on a journey to another world. While in the monument, probably the dead would have understood the rock art narrative on each of the kerbstones that faced inwards towards the mound, their realm, their art (Nash 2006). The audience located outside the monument, within the facade area, would have caught their last glimpse of the body as it entered the realm of the dead. The passages at Newgrange and Knowth slightly constrict in size in order to restrict the visual access to the ritual activity that would have occurred within the inner passage area, where much of the rock art is engraved, and also to the chamber. Limited archaeological evidence indicates that as the body passed through the passage to its temporary resting place – the chamber – the rock art would have played an integral role in legitimizing the activity within this part of the tomb. Accompanying the body would have been an array of engendered grave goods, some of them prestige items such as mace-heads and axes. These items, along 5733 P with daily perishable commodities such as food, would have assisted in the successful transition between the liminal world where body has a name and face to a world where only the metaphysical remains can gain access. The ongoing use of each monument over time created an ancestral cult and embodied the legitimacy of each monument and the landscape in which they stand. Cross-References ▶ Europe: Paleolithic Art References COCHRANE, A. 2006. The simulacra and simulations of Irish Neolithic passage tombs, in I. Russell (ed.) Images, representations and heritage: moving beyond a modern approach to archaeology: 251-82. New York: Springer-Kluwer. COONEY, G. 2000. Landscapes of Neolithic Ireland. London: Routledge. EDMONDS, M. 1999. Ancestral geographies of the Neolithic: landscapes, monuments, and memory. London: Routledge. EOGAN, G. 1986. Knowth and the passage-tombs of Ireland. London: Thames and Hudson. - 1991. Prehistoric and early historic culture change at Brúgh na Bóinne. Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy 91C: 105-32. EOGAN, G. & H. ROCHE. 1997. Excavations at Knowth 2. Dublin: Royal Irish Academy. GROGAN, E. 1991. Appendix: radiocarbon dates from Brugh na Bóinne, in G. Eogan (ed.) Prehistoric and early historic change in Brugh na Bóinne. Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy 91C: 105-32, 126-7. HARBISON, P. 2007. In retrospect: the Royal Irish Academy’s only archaeological excavation: dowth in the Boyne valley. Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy 107C: 205-13. LYNCH, F. 1973. The use of the passage in certain passage graves as a means of communication rather than access, in G. Daniel & P. Kjærum (ed.) Megalithic graves and ritual: papers presented at the III Atlantic Colloquium, Moesgård 1969: 147-61. Copenhagen: Jutland Archaeological Society. MACALISTER, R.A.S. 1939. Newgrange, Co. Meath. Dublin: Stationery Office. NASH, G.H. 2006. Light at the end of the tunnel: the way megalithic art was viewed and experienced. Documenta Praehistorica XXXIII: 209-28. - 2012. Megalithic rock art of the Mediterranean and Atlantic seaboard Europe, in J. McDonald & P. Veth (ed.) A companion to rock art: 127-42. New York: Blackwell. P P 5734 O’KELLY, C. 1982a. Corpus of Newgrange art, in M.J.O’Kelly (ed.) Newgrange: archaeology, art and legend: 146-85. London: Thames and Hudson. - 1982b. Newgrange: archaeology, art and legend. London: Thames and Hudson. O’SULLIVAN, M. 1986. Approaches to passage tomb art. Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland 116 (68): 68-83. - 1993. Megalithic art in Ireland. Dublin: Town House. - 2005. Duma Na Ngiall: the mound of the hostages, Tara. Wordwell: Bray. SHEE-TWOHIG, E. 1981. Megalithic art of western Europe. Oxford: Clarendon Press. STOUT, G. 1991. Embanked enclosures of the Boyne. Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy 91C: 245-84. - 2003. Newgrange and the Bend of the Boyne. Cork: Cork University Press. THOMAS, J. 1999. Rethinking the Neolithic. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. WADDELL, J. 2005. The prehistoric archaeology of Ireland. Wordwell: Bray. Paleoanthropology Society John Yellen Archaeology Program, National Science Foundation (NSF), Washington, DC, USA Basic Information and Major Impact The Paleoanthropology Society was founded in 1991 and held its first annual meeting the following year. It has twin goals: the first, to foster research which furthers understanding of human evolution and the second, to build an international community of researchers and interested individuals who enjoy collaboration and participation in the creation and advancement of such knowledge. The society is built on the understanding that multiple factors – biological, behavioral, and environmental – must be taken into account to gain insight into how the human species evolved and that research best proceeds through the interaction of researchers in many disciplines. Biological anthropologists, archaeologists, geologists, paleontologists, and cognitive scientists, as well as other specialists have participated in and contributed to annual meetings which include both Paleoanthropology Society posters and oral presentations in nonconcurrent sessions. Abstracts for presentation are evaluated through peer review and submission instructions are included on the Society’s open access web site, www.Paleoanthro.org. The Society publishes an online electroniconly journal, PaleoAnthro, which is accessible free of charge through the Society’s web site. The society meets annually, normally in alternate years, with the Society for American Archaeology and the American Association of Physical Anthropologists. Membership is open to all interested individuals, the majority of whom consist of graduate students and Ph.D. researchers both within and outside the United States. Annual dues and meeting registration fees are purposely kept low and income above expenses is used to subsidize participant meeting attendance. The Society is incorporated in Washington DC and is recognized under US law as a tax-exempt scientific organization. Cross-References ▶ American Association of Physical Anthropologists (AAPA) ▶ Society for American Archaeology (SAA) Further Reading PALEOANTHROPOLOGY SOCIETY. n.d. Available at: www. Paleoanthro.org. Paleoart Studies: Scientific Methods Robert G. Bednarik International Federation of Rock Art Organizations (IFRAO), Melbourne, VIC, Australia Introduction Most of the world’s surviving paleoart (art-like productions of preliterate societies) occurs in the Paleoart Studies: Scientific Methods form of rock art, which is found in nearly all countries of the world. Its study by scientific methods is a historically recent development, especially of the last three decades. In this short time the scientific methodology applied to rock art has evolved with the help of several disciplines. Foremost among these are nuclear physics, forensic science, geochemistry, geomorphology, conservation science, ethnography, and semiotics, but many others have also contributed. As a result a number of specific approaches have been developed. This emerging methodology is briefly defined here. Because of the perceived need to integrate rock art in archaeological constructs or narratives, it has long been a high priority to ascertain its age. The archaeologically favored method, excavation, and age estimation of sediments concealing rock art have several limitations. Over the past 120 years, archaeological excavation has succeeded in only 21 instances in providing credible minimum antiquities by this method. The age of a sediment deposited after the creation of rock art can at best offer minimum ages, and these may be very conservative. Moreover, these determinations depend upon a chain of unfalsifiable deductive propositions: that the sediment has not been subjected to disturbance or 5735 P redeposition, that the dating criterion actually relates to the event of deposition (e.g., charcoal may have been dislocated through turbation, quartz grains may have been displaced without exposure to light occurring), and that the dating method has yielded valid results (Bednarik 2001). One of the rationales of the scientific approach in rock art research is to supplement this indirect dating method with direct methods, which are defined by direct physical relationships of art and dating criterion and the formulation of falsifiable propositions concerning this relationship. Definition The epistemology of rock art science requires that all propositions be rendered testable and that interpretations not be dependent upon etic assumptions in the absence of emic evidence. This narrows the range of admissible practices and methods, of which those listed below have so far been pursued. Ultimately, most are in some fashion reminiscent of the techniques of forensic science (Montelle 2009) (Fig. 1). This definition excludes, for instance, reliance on interpretations P Paleoart Studies: Scientific Methods, Fig. 1 Example of forensic work: determining the tools used in the creation of deep cupules in a cave (Ngrang Cave, Victoria, Australia; photo by Yann-Pierre Montelle) P 5736 Paleoart Studies: Scientific Methods of rock art (on what it supposedly depicts) and on etic taxonomies of it, such as those based on perceived styles or on the statistical treatment of nonrepresentative samples. Therefore, one of the pivotal principles in a scientific paradigm is to treat all rock art as taphonomic residue, whose quantitative properties are determined by taphonomic logic (Bednarik 1994a) rather than by the characteristics inherent in a living tradition. Key Issues/Current Debates The demand in direct dating of rock art for secure physical relationship between the rock art and the dating criterion is illustrated by the following example. The bulk radiocarbon content of rock paint residues is in most cases not an acceptable criterion, because all rock surfaces and surface deposits contain organic matter, as do all mineral accretions over or under petroglyphs. Such dates are only viable if they derive from materials sealed in by impervious deposits (silica or oxalate) or if the analyzed matter is identified at the object or molecular level. The latter condition has only been met once so far (Ponti & Sinibaldi 2005). The most reliable carbon dates are those from beeswax figures, followed by charcoal pictograms. Radiocarbon dates from paint residues dominated by mineral pigment are not credible, because the dating criterion’s (carbon age of unknown matter, in this case) relationship to the age of the paint cannot be demonstrated. The nano-stratigraphy of paint residues or mineral accretions is determined by microscopic excavation of very thin layers (Fig. 2), either for chemical analysis of strata or their radiometric dating (Bednarik 1979; Watchman 1992). It has been applied to ferromanganese accretions, carbonates, silicas, and oxalates, providing testable data for age estimation and other scientific information about rock art. Similarly, the analysis of the composition of, and inclusions in, paint residues (such as brush fibers and pollen; Cole & Watchman 1992) can provide a wide range of empirical information about rock paintings and of the circumstances of their production. Paleoart Studies: Scientific Methods, Fig. 2 Nanostratigraphic section of mineral accretions of 2.11 mm thickness, containing several paint layers and spanning 26,000 radiocarbon years as determined by ten AMS dates from the section (Walkunder Arch Cave, Queensland, Australia; photo by Alan Watchman) The most promising methods of determining the age of petroglyphs utilize variables of geomorphology providing sequential contexts. Each rock panel features numerous forensic traces of events and processes, some of which may be datable, and each rock art motif is situated within a chronological framework they provide. Exfoliation or spalling scars, macro-wanes, fissures, patination, weathering rinds, glacial striae, fluvial or marine wear, and fire or lightning damage are among these traces and need to be recorded, locating the rock art within their relative sequence. Some of these processes, such as rock surface retreat and microerosion, are amenable to quantification. The latter involves microscopic erosion criteria (Fig. 3), including the micro-wanes gradually forming on fracture edges of mineral crystals (Bednarik 1992) or the relative retreat of a more soluble rock constituent (such as the cement of sandstone). Both this dating method and the estimation of fluvial degree of erasure of low-grade metamorphics by suspended load in rivers (Bednarik 2009a) have been calibrated against sidereal time, providing sound approximations of petroglyph ages. Another promising method is colorimetry of ferromanganese accretions on petroglyphs (Fig. 4). The gradual colonization of rock Paleoart Studies: Scientific Methods 5737 P Paleoart Studies: Scientific Methods, Fig. 3 Microerosion analysis at Penascosa, Côa valley, Portugal (photo by author) P Paleoart Studies: Scientific Methods, Fig. 4 Calibrated colorimetric study of differences in petroglyph patination indicating differences in age (Najd Sahı̄, Jabal al-Kaubab East, Saudi Arabia; photo by author) surfaces by patina-forming matter appears to be a relatively constant and regular process as a function of time (Bednarik 2009b). The detection of splattered paint in sediment below rock painting panels or of mineral dust and fractured grains deriving from the production of petroglyphs seem comparatively less promising. The technology of rock art – how it was made – is an important aspect of rock art science (Bednarik 1998). It proceeds primarily by forensic methods in tandem with replication studies and gestural research (biokinetics). Especially the intensive study of impact or abrasion marks in petroglyphs can lead to propositions about P 5738 Paleoart Studies: Scientific Methods Paleoart Studies: Scientific Methods, Fig. 5 Pothole surrounded by cupules and other petroglyphs (Bola Chanka, Santivanez petroglyph complex, Bolivia; photo by author) technology that can then be subjected to testing by replicating the traces under controlled conditions. This can yield information about the tools used, the direction and energy of impact or abrasive action, and, in combination with spatial aspects and accessibility of rock panels, about the circumstances of production. Similar considerations apply to rock paintings, drawings, and stencils, albeit to a lesser degree. Replicative studies of considerable variety have been attempted, and they form one of the principal approaches of scientific rock art research. The discrimination of anthropic from natural rock markings has engendered much confusion in the past. Particularly the separation of petroglyphs from numerous types of natural and even other humanly made rock markings resembling them requires specialist attention, notably when relatively simple markings are involved (Bednarik 1994b). Potholes, sandstone erosion pits, and solution scallops in caves have been mistaken for cupules (Fig. 5); animal scratches and other limestone cave features have been interpreted as cave petroglyphs; anthropic marks such as bulldozer scrapes, steel cable grooves and core drill circles were described as open-air petroglyphs; and natural coloration of rock surfaces as rock paintings; the latter was even radiocarbon dated in one case. This frequent confusion of natural rock markings with rock art is of concern because there is no value in treating such phenomena as rock art and then invent meanings for them. Only a small proportion of surviving paleoart consists of portable material. Some of the methods specifically developed for this corpus, especially traceology (the microscopic study of abraded or incised marks), have been successfully adopted by rock art science; other technological analyses are specific to mobiliary paleoart. Traceology derives from “internal analysis” as developed by Marshack (1972) to examine suspected notations and other incised markings on Paleolithic portable objects. Besides its application to engraved plaques, microscopy also provides the most important analytical tool in the scientific study of beads, pendants, and figurines, and is crucial in the detection of fakes and misidentifications. This can include the identification of a wide variety of taphonomic markings, such as those acquired by transport or caused by plant rootlets. In the scientific analysis of portable paleoart, replication is again of particular importance (Bednarik 2001). Paleoart Studies: Scientific Methods Future Directions The recording of rock art has come a long way since the iconographic, interpretation-driven endeavors of the past. It now involves a rapidly evolving and complex methodology based on state-of-the-art technology (e.g., Plets et al. 2012). To be comprehensive and scientifically relevant it needs to provide not only the most accurate record of the rock art, but also of all other traces preserved on the rock panel (Soleilhavoup 1985). Such detail is required not only for realistic evaluation and empirically based interpretation but also for the purposes of conservation and preservation science. This field has since the 1980s advanced from a commonsense approach to a scientifically based discipline with its own extensive methodology (Rosenfeld 1985). It is also developing rapidly and is becoming increasingly important in view of the ongoing degradation of all of the world’s rock art. Different conservation methodologies are being designed for open-air sites and deep cave sites, because the environmental constraints differ inherently between these two site types. The scientific study of rock art draws heavily on many of the hard sciences, but it is a relatively new approach and remains in a comparatively embryonic state. Nevertheless, it has emerged as a discipline in its own right and is likely to develop in unexpected directions. Most of the work so far is much in need of refinement and standardization, and a sound epistemology is not sufficient to have a significant practical impact. It needs to be translated into new methods and approaches. Some of the most exciting recent developments are the endeavors to introduce scientific fields such as the cognitive and neurosciences. This approach is likely to center on the role of exograms, the memory traces stored outside the human brain. From a scientific perspective the most important aspect of paleoart is that it represents the only comprehensive and dependable source of information about the cognitive evolution of hominins. That potential has so far remained almost unexplored. This is one development 5739 P suggesting that, rather than serving as a source of etic archaeological narrative, rock art and other paleoart need to serve a variety of other disciplines if their full research potential is to be realized. Cross-References ▶ Age Estimation ▶ Australian Paleoart ▶ Dating Methods (Absolute and Relative) in Archaeology of Art ▶ Dating Techniques in Archaeological Science ▶ Geoarchaeology ▶ Rock Art Sites: Management and Conservation References BEDNARIK, R.G. 1979. The potential of rock patination analysis in Australian archaeology—part 1. The Artefact 4: 14-38. - 1992. A new method to date petroglyphs. Archaeometry 34: 279-291. - 1994a. A taphonomy of palaeoart. Antiquity 68: 68-74. - 1994b. The discrimination of rock markings. Rock Art Research 11(1): 23-44. - 1998. The technology of petroglyphs. Rock Art Research 15(1): 23-35. - 2001. Rock art science: the scientific study of palaeoart. Turnhout: Brepols (2nd edn 2007, New Delhi: Aryan Books International). - 2009a. Fluvial erosion of inscriptions and petroglyphs at Siega Verde, Spain. Journal of Archaeological Science 36(10): 2365-2373. - 2009b. Experimental colorimetric analysis of petroglyphs. Rock Art Research 26(1): 55-64. COLE, N. & A. WATCHMAN. 1992. Painting with plants: investigating fibres in Aboriginal rock paintings at Laura, North Queensland. Rock Art Research 9(1): 27-36. MARSHACK, A. 1972. The roots of civilization. New York: McGraw-Hill/London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson. MONTELLE, Y.-P. 2009. Application of forensic methods to rock art investigations—a proposal. Rock Art Research 26(1): 7-13. PLETS, G., G. VERHOEVEN, D. CHEREMISIN, R. PLETS, J. BOURGEOIS, B. STICHELBAUT, W. GHEYLE & J. DE REU. 2012. The deteriorating preservation of the Altai rock art: assessing three-dimensional image-based modeling in rock art research and management. Rock Art Research 29(2): 139-156. PONTI, R. & M. SINIBALDI. 2005. Direct dating of painted rock art in the Libyan Sahara. Sahara 16: 162-165. P P 5740 Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology ROSENFELD, A. 1985. Rock art conservation in Australia (Special Australian Heritage Publication series 6). Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. SOLEILHAVOUP, F. 1985. Les paysages de l’art rupestre de plein air: vers une normalization des méthodes d’étude et de conservation. Rock Art Research 2(2): 119-139. WATCHMAN, A. 1992. Repainting or periodic-painting at Australian Aboriginal sites: evidence from rock surface crusts, in G.K. Ward (ed.), Retouch: maintenance and conservation of Aboriginal rock imagery (Occasional AURA Publication 5): 26-30. Melbourne: Australian Rock Art Research Association. Further Reading CLOTTES, J., M. MENU & P. WALTER. 1990. New light on the Niaux paintings. Rock Art Research 7 (1): 21-27. LORBLANCHET, M., M. LABEAU, J. VERNET, P. FITTE, H. VALLADAS, H. CACHIER & M. ARNOLD. 1990. Palaeolithic pigments in the Quercy, France. Rock Art Research 7 (1): 4-20. WAINWRIGHT, I., K. HELWIG, D. ROLANDI, C. GRADIN, M. PODESTÁ, M. ONETTO & C. ASCHERO. 2002. Rock paintings conservation and pigment analysis at Cueva de las Manos and Cerro de los Indios, Santa Cruz (Patagonia), Argentina. ICOM Committee for Conservation. 13th. Triennial Meeting. Reprints II: 582-588. provide proxy environmental information on the immediate context from which the fossils are derived and as such may either be complementary to the more regional picture provided by palynology or indicate site conditions, such as levels of hygiene and evidence of trading connections, which are rarely available from any other palaeoecological source. They therefore provide information on a broad range of habitats and conditions, on- and off-site, and, in addition, in appropriate contexts, also climate. Processing of samples is essentially simple, requiring readily available materials, yet is time-consuming, and identification of the usually disarticulated fragments (sclerites) requires diligence and patience and access to well-curated reference collections. Fortunately, abundant literature, computer software, and database tools now exist to aid in their interpretation. Definition Paleoentomology is the study of (sub)fossil insect Paleoentomology: Insects and Other remains, generally with an aim towards understanding environmental, climatic, and/or cultural Arthropods in Environmental conditions in the past, from both archaeological Archaeology Philip I. Buckland1, Paul C. Buckland2 and Fredrik Olsson1 1 Environmental Archaeology Lab, Department of Historical, Philosophical & Religious Studies, Umeå University, Umeå, Sweden 2 Crosspool, Sheffield, UK Introduction Insects are the most diverse group of animals on the planet and as such are present in a wider variety of habitats than most other organism groups. This diversity, in addition to a long evolutionary history (Grimaldi & Engel 2005) and together with a propensity to be preserved in both desiccating and anaerobic environments, has provided an excellent tool for the reconstruction of both Quaternary and more immediate archaeological environments. Insect remains often and off-site contexts. Just over half of the sites which have been investigated to this date (Fig. 1), which tally to over 1,000, are archaeological contexts. The remainder are Quaternary geological contexts or off-site stratigraphic sequences (Buckland & Buckland 2006; Elias 2010b). The application of paleoentomology to archaeology is sometimes referred to as archeoentomology. The method relies on the concept of species constancy, both in terms of detailed morphology and of habitat. Recent work has shown that for some species, at least the morphology holds at least as far back as the Miocene. For habitats, the assemblages associated with the oldest Paleolithic material in the British Isles that form sites along the Norfolk coast (Parfitt et al. 2010) are concordant with those from a modern boreal forest. By identifying the taxa present in a sediment sample, a picture can be built up of the environment represented in the sediment catchment. Archaeological contexts, however, may be Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology 5741 P a b P c Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology, Fig. 1 Map of the >1,000 paleoentomological investigations currently stored in the BugsCEP database (Buckland & Buckland 2006) (A) globally (B) around Europe and (C) Britain and Ireland. Symbols represent the primary research context of the investigation, although some sites have multiple profiles. Note that a number of extra-European (mainly North American, Russian, and Australasian) investigations are not currently stored in the BugsCEP database and so not shown on this map (see Elias 2010a for details) P 5742 Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology, Fig. 2 Insect evidence in a Norse Farm site. Arrows indicate potential movement of deposits containing insects or insect remains (Modified from Buckland et al. (2004)) dominated by insects accidentally incorporated from imported materials rather than those forming the autochthonous assemblage. Sample size varies depending on the faunal group and context being studied. A single cubic centimeter of lake sediment will often provide an interpretable chironomid (nonbiting midge) assemblage (e.g., Brooks et al. 2012), while Quaternary and archaeological sediments for a more diverse range of insets usually rely upon a 5 l sample, although this may be far too large for contexts particularly rich in insect remains, such as wells and cesspits (e.g., Kenward et al. 1986). Floor layers may be particularly difficult to interpret, and close integration with the other lines of evidence, particularly field archaeology, is essential. It may be assumed that the insects represent the results of activities in the room. Large numbers of ectoparasites, for example, may reflect both the traditional primate activity of delousing or, if of sheep, they might point to wool processing. In house floor faunas, the buildup of twigs, hay, and other materials used to make a habitable surface may introduce large number of fly puparia (with several species of beetle) that are able to exploit the artificially warmed environments created by humans and their domestic stock beyond their natural range. Such faunas die out rapidly when a site is abandoned (Panagiotakopulu et al. 2007). To a lesser extent, casual introductions into a room, for instance, species brought in as a result of human activities (e.g., in floor material, including fossil material in peat, in fodder, feces, and foodstuffs), may form the more interesting elements in site interpretation, and room and area use may be evident in the distribution of faunas across floors. The interpretation of such layers is far from simple, and a perfect picture of room use should never be expected from the complex web of faunal movements (Fig. 2). Taphonomic processes, such as bioturbation, decay, mixing, and redeposition, can complicate the picture further, and it is essential to use multiple lines of proxy evidence, particularly plant macrofossil, Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology sedimentological, and other geoarchaeological analyses. While the same samples can be utilized to provide material for most of these, it is useful to have multiple samples both to examine within context variation and to scan for additional identifiable fragments of rarer insect taxa; surplus material can always be disposed of at the end of a project, while resampling may be impossible. Historical Background The development of both Quaternary entomology and archeoentomology owes much to techniques developed by the late Russell Coope and Peter Osborne at the University of Birmingham, UK, where in the late 1950s, examination of samples from two Late Pleistocene sites in the English Midlands, Upton Warren, and Chelford indicated the potential of insect remains for reconstructing past climates and environments (Elias 2010b). This work built upon that of the Dane Kai Henriksen and the Swedish entomologist Carl Lindroth, although identification of insects from archaeological contexts had occasionally taken place over the previous century. The technique of water sieving over 300 mm, followed by paraffin (kerosene) flotation and sorting under a low power microscope, was summarized by Coope and Osborne (1968) in a paper on a Roman well, and this established the basic sample processing technique which has essentially remained unchanged to this day. The need for access to full reference collections – the UK beetle fauna alone has some 4,000 species including incidentals – somewhat restricts the wider application of archaeoentomology, and there are currently only some 30 active Quaternary entomologists globally, the majority of them based in Europe, although working internationally. Since the earlier work on samples from archaeological contexts, particularly by Osborne and later Girling, Kenward, and Robinson, perhaps the most significant advancements in archaeoentomology have been related to closer integration with modern entomological studies, partly stemming from a caveat issued by Kenward (1975) concerning the interpretation of 5743 P urban assemblages. This relates largely to the different questions asked of natural and more strictly anthropogenic assemblages, where in the latter case, the field archaeologist may want to know what has taken place on a particular spatiotemporal level rather than the slightly more regional picture on a broader time plane which a sample from an adjacent peatbog might provide. Attempts at habitat quantification, quantitative climate reconstruction (e.g., MCR – Atkinson et al. 1986), and taphonomic comparisons with modern pitfall and other assemblages (e.g., Smith 1999) have recently been integrated into database software (Buckland & Buckland 2006). The advent of readily accessible computing power, cheap and user-friendly statistics software, and database management systems has provided the basis for a more complex and detailed handling of the large amounts of numerical data which can be obtained from fossil and modern insect assemblages. Key Issues/Current Debates Methodology Sampling in the field is, as always, best undertaken by individuals trained either in environmental archaeology or Quaternary studies. The ability to identify, describe, and sample closed contexts is imperative if a reliable interpretation of a site is to be obtained, and while this might seem less of a problem with the more mechanical process of coring lakes and peatbogs, effective logging of stratigraphy in the field often preludes later problems of interpretation. This applies as much to natural contexts as archaeological ones, particularly where the pace of environmental or climate change is singularly rapid, as for example, during the Late Glacial to Holocene transition, where transition from high-arctic to warm-temperate conditions takes place in less than a few decades and often defies the sampling interval. The ability of insect assemblages to describe phases of environmental change relies on samples representing as coherent a picture as possible, and large samples covering periods of rapid environmental change will inevitably P P 5744 Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology produce diffuse and less than illustrative results. On archaeological sites, where possible, excavation by single context provides the greatest utility for taking samples and providing the entomological results which are most useful during interpretation. Fig. 3 shows how insect sample processing fits into the battery of biological proxy analysis methods typically used in archaeological investigations. After disaggregation in running water, followed by drainage of surplus water, liquid paraffin (called kerosene in North America and lysfotogen in Scandinavia) is added to the sample retained on the sieve and the material floated with water. This floatation technique has been shown to preferentially concentrate insect remains over the plant and mineral matrix of a washed sample. A standard sieve size of 300 mm is used, although 250 mm may be required where the retrieval of particularly small sclerites, such as those of chironomid larval head capsules, which have a size range of <0.3 mm, is required; normally, however, these would be recovered from separate subsamples of a few cc. The float is washed in a mild detergent to remove the paraffin and then transferred to a beaker of either distilled water or 70 % alcohol (Fig. 4). The latter has the advantages of increasing preservation times and a reduced surface tension when sorting, but disadvantages in terms of smell and evaporating more quickly. It should also be pointed out that paraffin floatation and alcohol storage should not be used if anything in the sample is to be used for radiocarbon dating. Insect sclerites are extracted into a tube of alcohol or water using forceps under a low power binocular microscope. Seeds, macroscopic charcoal, and other material which may aid in interpretation are routinely extracted by most practitioners at this stage, although it should be noted that some seeds, such as those of Juncus, will pass through a 300 mm mesh, and the abundance of plant remains may necessitate subsampling. Techniques using water and kerosene are not appropriate to the recovery of insect remains from desiccated sediments, where wetting is likely to destroy the remains and gentle sieving with hand picking out of larger debris may precede sorting under a binocular microscope. Put simply, dry material has to be kept dry, while wet can be wetted, but any change between states is likely to be deleterious. This leads to a number of long-term preservation problems. Dry material can be stored in closed glass or plastic tubes, but even modern material kept in alcohol tends to bleach and decay over about a decade, and earlier work on fossils relied upon card mounting with gum tragacanth or similar adhesive. This often resulted in the distortion of the more fragile material, such as the elytra of aphodiine dung beetles, but the main problem was that as the amount of material being studied increased, it became impossible to mount everything. It seems probable that storage in slightly acidified distilled water may be the better way to preserve material, but the problems of longerterm preservation and deposition of fossil material have yet to be addressed. Identification is undertaken by comparing the fossil parts (Fig. 5) with modern reference material (Fig. 6), illustrations, photographs, and through the use of identification keys. It is often advantageous to group fossils by shape on a piece of filter paper, which should be kept damp at all times to prevent sclerites drying up and fracturing. The currently available identification keys are almost entirely based on characters rarely recovered in a fossil context, such as antennal segment lengths, tarsal structure, or genital armatures. The latter have major significance in some genera and have occurred in Quaternary sediments sufficiently frequently to form the basis of major biogeographic and taxonomic studies. Published keys are often more useful for confirming characteristics after identification than the actual process, although Lindroth, because of his interest in the Quaternary fossil record, included comments on elytral microsculpture in his carabid keys. Due to the vast diversity of insects, it is not uncommon for specialists in several groups to cooperate or send specimens to acknowledged experts in particular taxonomic groups. The stages described above are undoubtedly the most time-consuming part of insect analyses; 5 l of poorly humified peat may take over a week Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology 5745 P P Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology, Fig. 3 Paleoentomology is one of many biological proxy methods which can be used to investigate archaeological sites. Standard insect floatation method is illustrated, but variations may be applied to cater for particular sediments or other requirements (Modified from Buckland et al. (2004)) P 5746 Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology, Fig. 4 Fossil insect material as part of a float. A binocular microscope and forceps are used to extract the identifiable insect remains from the matrix of amorphous plant material Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology, Fig. 5 Fossil beetle parts (sclerites), primarily carabids (ground beetles), extracted and ready for identification. The sample is from a well excavated in Mårtensby, Vanda, Finland, and dendrochronologically dated to 1776/1777 to process, and samples from either remote islands or past and present arctic landscapes may be low in both diversity and numbers of individuals but nevertheless meriting detailed study. Taxonomic lists, correctly ordered against the relevant checklist, usually utilize the minimum number of individuals (MNI). Larvae of caddis flies, blackflies, chironomids, and other taxa where species may have several instars, each with recognizable fragments, are less clearly counted as individuals and are usually listed as numbers. Interpretation of the resulting species lists relies on a detailed knowledge of general ecology and biology as well as the specifics of individual insect species ecology. Naturally, for archaeological contexts, it also requires an understanding of cultural activities relevant to the investigation, knowledge of the excavation in question, and also any particular questions that the excavator thinks might be answered by study of the insect remains. Here again it needs to be stressed that the best results are obtained by onsite collaboration between field archaeologist and all the relevant paleoecological specialists, something which is as yet unfortunately rarely achieved. Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology, Fig. 6 Reference collections consist of thousands of identified card or pinmounted specimens. These collections take decades to establish and require curation and periodic treatment for pest infestations. Ironically enough, the pest species are common finds in archeoentomology Insects in Archaeology Although there were earlier studies, the first paper which effectively pointed out the potential of insects in archaeology was that of Peter Osborne in 1971. Here, in a study of a refuse pit in the small town of Alcester in the English Midlands, he showed that not only the baggage of Roman occupation included an extended fauna of pests of stored products, grain weevils, and the saw-toothed grain beetle but also a longhorn beetle, Trichoferus fasciculatus, whose modern distribution suggests that it had arrived in an imported piece of woodwork, presumably 5747 P furniture from the Mediterranean. Since Osborne’s pioneer study, much work has gone into tracking the origins and movement of stored product pests and has included research ranging from the Neolithic and Bronze Age eastern Mediterranean to post-Medieval Québec (Bain et al. 2009). The results extend beyond archaeology. Until Coope and Osborne’s find of the sawtoothed grain beetle, Oryzaephilus surinamensis, in the Romano-British Barnsley Park well, most entomologists would have regarded the species as a recent introduction from the New World, as the name given by Linnaeus would suggest. Other biogeographic conundra have also been elucidated from the archaeological fossil record. Fleas are not infrequent finds in archaeological contexts, and the origin of the so-called human flea, Pulex irritans, as an ectoparasite of a New World rodent, the Guinea pig, has been considered. This work has more recently been followed up with DNA studies of fleas from South American mummies. Mummies have also frequently yielded head and body lice, and crab lice, Pthirus pubis, also reached the northern frontier of Rome, although its pre-Columbian occurrence in South America suggests that, like the other human lice, it was an early uninvited guest. In an early taphonomic study, Osborne showed that the pests of stored products passed virtually unaltered through the human digestive system when accidentally consumed as the nutty bits in bread made from whole-wheat flour or in porridge. This, as well as Kenward’s point that this equally applies to other omnivores and herbivores, has led to some reinterpretation of some deposits, like the Roman sewer in York, where proximity of granaries is replaced by the more prosaic presence of feces. Other species in the sewer, however, cannot have been consumed and the abundant small, stinging ant, Hypoponera punctatissima, therein again suggests an accidental import from warmer climes much further south, perhaps the Mediterranean; it has recently been found in a Late Medieval deposit in Coventry, Central England. Like the rice weevils from similarly dated deposits in Southampton, the insects indicate trading connections which might otherwise be unnoticed. P P 5748 Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology Moving away from the directly human, domestic animals may also be indicated by their ectoparasites. Dog, cat, and rat fleas are recorded from a number of sites; the more interesting of the last, Xenopsylla cheopis, the vector in bubonic plague, has yet to be found, although there has been interesting speculation on both its and the epidemic’s origins (Panagiotakopulu 2004). The ked, a wingless parasitic fly which lives on sheep, and the fleece louse are not infrequent finds, although their presence is more likely to indicate wool processing than the animal itself. Its close relative, the deer ked, appears incidentally in the equipment of the Late Neolithic “man in the ice” from the Italian Tirol. There are a few records of goat and cattle lice, and it is worth noting that on sites with acidic sediments, such evidence from insect faunas may survive where animal bone does not. Buildings used to stall and stable animals may preserve other evidence than the rather infrequent ectoparasite in that fodder, litter, and manure have characteristic insect faunas. Stalling of cattle was deduced from the fly puparia associated with Neolithic structures in the Swiss Alps, and there is similar evidence from southern Sweden at Alvastra. The characteristic assemblage of species associated with hay stored as fodder was exported with Norse settlers across the North Atlantic, although interpretation is complicated by the use of peat and turf both as animal litter and for sod walls, which introduce elements from the natural fauna (Fig. 2). The origins of this essentially anthropogenic assemblage have been considered by Kenward and Allison. It extends into urban centers from the countryside, and much of the fauna was a feature of towns, before the demise of the horse as the main means of transport, the disappearance of the backyard pig, and the eclipse of meat supply on the hoof. A similar pattern of species emerges from sites as far apart as Novgorod, Oslo, York, and Dublin. Away from the cleaner areas of the fortress, Roman York looks little different from AngloScandinavian York. In regions where urban origins go back much further, around the Mediterranean littoral or in the Near and Middle East, there is currently little evidence, and wells which would have acted as pitfalls for the local insect fauna would repay detailed study. The faunas from New Kingdom Amarna in Egypt, preserved by desiccation, hint at similar if much warmer conditions, with a mix of pests of stored products, probably derived from animal dung, ectoparasites, including bed bugs, flies, and fodder feeders. While the immediate environment, reconstructed from insect remains, is perhaps of most significance to the field archaeologist, the regional picture which the insect evidence presents provides detail which is largely unavailable from other sources. Pollen may be interpreted in terms of forest composition in the broadest sense, although the extent of clearings, both natural and anthropogenic, in the woodland is often difficult to see. The insect fossil record for the early to mid-Holocene shows that after initial rapid warming to conditions slightly warmer, or at least more continental than present day, the development of closed forest was fairly rapid, if initially out of step with amelioration – it took time for the trees to catch up and beetles associated with decaying wood and its fungi appear long before their more usual hosts, a feature of the fact that it is the situation and state of decay which is more important to the insect than the tree species. A similar pattern is evident in the herbivore dung faunas, where situation is more important than species of origin. There are, however, among the deadwood fauna elements, such as many scolytids, bark beetles, which are more host specific and could have profound impact upon forest composition in both the Old and New Worlds. More has perhaps been written on Scolytus scolytus, the elm bark beetle, than any other insect in archaeology, and its occurrence has been lined with the widespread decline in elm which heralds the Neolithic. Whether human impact is needed is debatable, although increased stress on the forest as a result of domestic grazing pressure at a time of climate stress might be relevant. It is worth noting, however, that a catastrophic mid-Holocene decline in hemlock in North America has been similarly linked to an insect-borne pathogen. Whatever the cause, from the elm decline onwards, forest faunas come under increasing pressure as human impact Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology increases. Of the regional extirpations of species, most easily seen in the offshore island of Britain, roughly 80 % of the losses relate directly to the forest, and much of the remainder has some association with woodland. As woodland faunas decline, dung faunas increase, and species which are rare in the mid-Holocene become increasingly common; others are fresh introductions, some not seen since the more open landscape of the previous, slightly warmer interglacial, which with elephants, rhinoceros, and hippopotami was curiously lacking in humans in northern Europe. The extinction of the larger herbivores had a significant impact on the natural dung fauna, just as the disappearance of mammoth and wooly rhinoceros had on the colder fauna. While the frequent dung beetle in the middle of the last glaciation, Aphodius holdereri, found a refuge in yak dung on the high Tibetan Plateau, the one certain extinction from the Palearctic insect fauna is a botfly, Coboldia rusanovae, which was parasitic on mammoths. BugsCEP Database and Software The Bugs Coleopteran Ecology Package (BugsCEP; http://www.bugscep.com; Buckland & Buckland 2006) is currently the only freely available database for fossil and modern insect data. It stores published raw data on the occurrence and abundance of individual taxa, as well as accompanying dating evidence, bibliographic and site metadata. The system also provides an extensive habitat database for most taxa, along with software tools for analysis, aiding interpretation and the identification of similar sites. Table 1 summarizes the contents of the database at the time of writing. In addition to data browsers and retrieval tools, BugsCEP provides a number of software tools, as outlined in Table 2. These are designed to help in the interpretation of archaeological and natural environments and reduce the time and expertise required for a number of common data-intensive exercises, such as compiling list of habitats descriptions and references associated with the species found at a site. 5749 P Quantitative Habitat Reconstruction Paleoentomology, as archaeobotany, has traditionally relied on qualitative or semiquantitative analysis of taxa. Indicator species and the subjective assessment of the relative ecological implications of taxa have led interpretation based on extensive knowledge of the relevant entomological sources. This is most likely a result of several factors, including a past lack of easily accessible computing power, an absence of relevant databases, the prevalence of small numbers of fossils in samples, and certain skepticism over the application of techniques from ecology to the inevitably more fragmentary fossil record. The subject has therefore lagged behind palynology in this respect, which has an active quantification community for many years, even if a considerable body of practitioners prefers to use simple and often misleading, percentagebased analyses. A fossil insect assemblage retrieved from a sediment sample is in itself a sample of the population of the environment at the time of deposition. By the time a species list has been obtained, however, the sample has been subjected to a number of taphonomic processes which will have reduced its ability to fully represent that population. The representivity of the sample, and the resulting interpretation, depends on a number of factors, which collectively come under the banner of taphonomy. A number of studies have investigated sample representivity at both the individual species and assemblage/ community level, and Kenward et al. in particular have looked at the concept of a “death assemblage” in comparison with living populations in environments useful to archaeology. Modern Ecology Calibration Data As insects are present in every terrestrial and freshwater environment, and many species are highly specialized in their ecological preferences, knowledge of arthropod ecology is essential when reconstructing past environments, climates, and human activities. Disturbances as a result of human activity can be reflected in the degree of openness and structure of woodlands and in turn may reflect the impact of grazing and land P P 5750 Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology, Table 1 Enumeration of the BugsCEP database (as of 27 May 2012), illustrating the nature and extent of the Quaternary fossil insect record. The database is being continually updated, and these figures are thus out of date. Refer to the current version of the database or its website for current information Species related 10,480 Taxa with 6,395 synonyms 777 Species association records (e.g., predator on and predated by) 1,747 UK Red Data Book rarity records (RDB) 9,057 Size attributes (minimum and maximum sizes) 400 Identification keys to families, genera, and species largely by Peter Skidmore, with some translations into English of French and German sources Fossil record 1,051 Sites 1,119 Abundance datasets, of which 552 are archaeological and 482 stratigraphic sequences 143,650 Fossil or modern record entries (finds of a particular taxa at a particular site) 1,228 Calendar-based dates – specific years or ranges of calendar years Ranging from CE 1995 to dendrochronological dates >5,000 BCE 5,824 Period date records – encompassing period types from archaeological to vegetation and geological, ranging from Pleistocene to Modern, and used where no more specific data are available 999 Radiometric dates – mainly radiocarbon but also uranium series, OSL, etc. Ranging from 370 to 167 500 BP Bibliography 4,781 References, of which 1,582 are the source of, or refer to, the abundance datasets Ecology and climate reference data 436 MCR species thermal envelopes (see Climate Change Studies below) 29,692 Habitat and ecology text abstracts Text concerning the habitat and ecology of a species as described by the cited author 30,263 Distribution text abstracts Distribution notes for a species from a cited author 8,565 Bugs ecology code assignments – classification of species according to a limited set of general habitats and used for rapid environmental reconstruction (see Quantitative Habitat Reconstruction below) 13,836 Koch ecology code assignments – classification of species according to an extensive set of habitat and ecology descriptions, based on Koch (1989–1992) with translation and additions (see Quantitative Habitat Reconstruction below) 9,865 UK adult activity month records management practices, as well as more immediate on-site impacts. Work on modern analogues aims towards understanding how well insect assemblages characterize the surrounding environment, and work has focused on studying how well insects reflect forest structure and landscape openness. Beetles and true bugs (Coleoptera and Hemiptera) assemblages have been studied from a wide range of modern deposits with varying spatial relationships with respect to woodland and trees. Results indicate that a significant proportion of tree-associated beetles and bugs are to be expected within a woodland area and that the abundance of tree-associated species will indeed reduce with distance from woodland (Kenward 2006). Similar results are shown in studies in Finland on ground beetles (Carabidae) from pitfall traps along transects running from within a forested area to within open farmland. These concluded that forest ground beetles were abundant within the forest and right up to the forest edge, whereas the number of open-habitat species decreased drastically 5–10 m towards the forest edge. Buckland (2007) compared the Finish results using the environmental reconstruction facilities of the BugsCEP software (see above), demonstrating that the latter could be used as a tool for studying modern insect assemblages Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology 5751 P conditions, it is important to understand the spatial representivity of the samples. This is especially important when sampling in natural contexts, or wells/refuse pits which act as pitfall traps, where the taxa found are often of natural (non-synanthropic) origin. Smith et al. (2010) Tool Form, purpose, and results examined the degree to which tree-associated Climate reconstruction The BugsMCR module uses the MCR dataset (see Climate beetles and pollen could be used to predict openChange Studies below) to ness in woodland. They suggest that it is possible calculate the most probable to use tree-associated beetles to assess the degree thermal regimes represented by the species found in each sample of local vegetation openness and the relative at a site. Jackknifing may be intensity of land use by grazing animals within applied to give an indication of a limited area, roughly within 100–200 m radius the reliability of reconstructions, of the sampling site. which generally are related to Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology, Table 2 The main tools provided by the BugsCEP software interface deliver the results of complex queries at the click of a mouse, reducing the need for complex query construction in database management software Environmental reconstruction and statistics Search by habitat, distribution, and rarity the number of species in the sample. The system can also be used to predict which other species could survive in the temperature range tolerated by any single species The BugStats module uses the bugs ecology code system to quantitatively summarize the habitats represented by each sample at a site. The results can be expressed as bar charts (Fig. 7) or a text report, and a variety of pretreatment and standardizations can be applied to improve inter-sample comparability and aid interpretation. Correlation matrices may also be produced comparing the similarity of the assemblage of each sample with every other sample at a site The database can be queried for a list of species preferring any single or combination of coded habitats or where any specified word is included in their habitat or distribution data. The UK RDB data (see Table 1) may also be queried in the same session, and logical operators are catered for. Results may be output as species lists or a list of sites containing the species retrieved and environments in order to validate paleoentomological studies and Quaternary environmental reconstructions. When using arthropods to reconstruct the local environment, or the on-site Climate Change Studies Fossil beetles were among the first proxies used to identify the rapid nature of global warming at the end of the last Ice Age, later confirmed by ice core data. The most established method for climate reconstruction from fossil beetles is the mutual climatic range method (MCR) (cf. Atkinson et al. 1986), available with slight modification in the BugsCEP software (Buckland 2007). MCR is a mathematically simple modern analogue method, whereby the climate in which the majority of the species in a sample live today is considered the most probable climate represented by the fossils found together in a sample (see Elias 2010a for methodology). Unlike assemblage-based methods, MCR does not assume species communities and independently evaluates each species. It therefore avoids issues of non-analogue communities when reconstructing the climates of periods where community structures may have been different from any of those observable today, such as the mammoth steppe which is considered to have covered much of what are now northern temperate regions during the last glaciation. The MCR calibration dataset includes the temperature requirements of 436 beetle species known fossil from northern Europe, based on several thousand point source and area distribution maps. There is therefore considerable room for expansion, especially taxa from more continental climates and Mediterranean regions. Beetle MCR results have been shown to slightly P P 5752 Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology, Fig. 7 Habitat diagram created by the BugStats module in the BugsCEP software, showing a sequence of samples taken from an eleventhcentury ditch on the border of a deer park at Conisbrough, UK. Species richness data, standardized by sum of habitat indications (see Buckland 2007 details), illustrate the relative changes in surrounding environment represented by the fauna of each sample. Most of the 22 habitats have been omitted for clarity. The last two columns (SumRep, Abundance, and NSpec) show the total numbers of environmental indications, individuals and taxa in each samples, a factor which is negated through standardization, but useful information for evaluating the results. Note that the number of individuals is generally proportional to number of species in fossil assemblages just as it is for modern ones underestimate extreme climates, and this may be a reflection of the limits of the calibration data. There are a number of other insect-orientated climate reconstruction methods in use, and chironomid-based reconstructions have been used extensively (e.g., Brooks et al. 2012). A number of alternatives to MCR for beetles have also been investigated, and the reader is directed towards Elias (2010a) for an overview. species collection data would be time-consuming. The paleoentomological community is, however, small and therefore of limited productivity even if the individuals themselves are not. Increased student recruitment is therefore essential, especially at the postgraduate level, if the community is to grow, and it is hoped that the integration and community-based growth of digital tools will help towards encouraging more students to continue to higher levels. DNA-based studies, while no replacement for morphology-based identifications (e.g., Will & Rubinoff 2004), when used in combination with the methods described above, are likely to play an important role in studying long-term changes in biogeography. In particular, issues of faunal origins and the movement of pest species are likely to benefit from the molecular approach, especially with its ability to identify genetically similar populations. Parasitic insects may also prove useful as information stores for the DNA of parasites and thus advance the understanding of the spread of insect-borne diseases and past epidemics. Although all proxy data sources can provide useful information, it has been suggested that the limits of single-proxy reconstructions are being Future Directions Paleoentomology can provide an enormous amount of detailed information from on and around archaeological sites, and it is hoped that its use will only increase in the future as more archaeologists realize this fact. User-friendly database software, online portals, and GIS technology will enable the volume and scope of the all-important reference data to be expanded, also increasing the relevance and applicability of insect data. Habitat summary data, modern environment calibration data, and MCR climate reference data are areas which could be expanded upon relatively easily, although the gathering of Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology reached and that we gain less and less from each new investigation. If this is true, then multi-proxy integration is the way forward. With the databases now available for several proxies, and an increasing number of multi-proxy databases under construction, there is much scope for integrated environmental and climate reconstructions where the limits of one proxy may be strengthened by the advantages of another. A logical continuation of this would be the integration with an increasingly accessible range of external data sources for ecology, biodiversity, and perhaps soon ethnography and cultural history. Such inter-archive linking could greatly improve the speed with which basic quantifications and interpretations could be processed and thus leave more time for the more detailed qualitative interpretation of results and their implications. Cross-References ▶ Archaeobotany ▶ Archaeology and the Emergence of Fields: Environmental ▶ Environmental Archaeology and Conservation ▶ Environmental Archaeological Evidence: Preservation ▶ Standardization, Storage, and Dissemination of Environmental Archaeological Data ▶ Strategic Environmental Archaeology Database (SEAD) References ATKINSON, T.C., K.R. BRIFFA, G.R. COOPE, J.M. JOACHIM & D.W. PERRY. 1986. Climatic calibration of coleopteran data, in B.E. Berglund (ed.) Handbook of Holocene palaeoecology and palaeohydrology: 851-858. Chichester: J. Wiley & Sons. BAIN, A., J.-A. BOUCHARD-PERON, R. AUGER & D. SIMONEAU. 2009. Bugs, seeds and weeds at the Intendant’s Palace: a study of an evolving landscape. Post-Medieval Archaeology 43(1): 183-197. BROOKS, S.J., I.P. MATTHEWS, H.H. BIRKS & H.J.B. BIRKS. 2012. High resolution late glacial and early-Holocene summer air temperature records from Scotland inferred from chironomid assemblages. Quaternary Science Reviews 41: 67-82. 5753 P BUCKLAND, P.C., E. PANAGIOTAKOPULU & P.I. BUCKLAND. 2004. What’s eating Halvdan the Black?: Fossil insects and the study of a burial mound in its landscape context, in Halvdanshaugen: arkeologi, historie og naturvetenskap: 353-376. University Museum of Cultural Heritage. BUCKLAND, P.I. 2007. The development and implementation of software for palaeoenvironmental and palaeoclimatological research: the Bugs Coleopteran Ecology Package (BugsCEP) (Archaeology and Environment 23). PhD dissertation, University of Umeå, Sweden. BUCKLAND, P.I. & P.C. BUCKLAND. 2006. BugsCEP Coleopteran Ecology Package. IGBP PAGES (/World Data Center for Paleoclimatology Data Contribution series 2006-116). NOAA/NCDC Paleoclimatology Program, Boulder CO, USA. Available at: http://www.ncdc. noaa.gov/paleo/insect.html and http://www.bugscep. com (accessed 27 May 2012). COOPE, G.R. & P.J. OSBORNE. 1968. Report on the Coleopterous fauna of the Roman well at Barnsley Park, Gloucestershire. Transactions of the Bristol and Gloucestershire Archaeological Society 86: 84-87. ELIAS, S.A. 2010a (ed.) Advances in Quaternary entomology. Developments in Quaternary Sciences 12. - 2010b. The use of insect fossils in archeology, in S.A. Elias (ed.) Advances in Quaternary entomology: 89123. Developments in Quaternary Sciences 12. GRIMALDI, D. & M.S. ENGEL. 2005. Evolution of the insects. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. KENWARD, H. 2006. The visibility of past trees and woodland: testing the value of insect remains. Journal of Archaeological Science 33: 1368-1380. KENWARD, H.K., A.R. HALL & A.K.G. JONES. 1986. Environmental evidence from a Roman well and Anglian pits in the legionary fortress (Archaeology of York 14/2). York: Council for British Archaeology for York Archaeological Trust. € KOCH, K. 1989-92. Die Käfer Mitteleuropas. Okologie 1-3. Krefeld: Goecke & Evers. PANAGIOTAKOPULU, E. 2004. Pharaonic Egypt and the origins of plague. Journal of Biogeography 31: 269-275. PANAGIOTAKOPULU, E., P. SKIDMORE & P.C. BUCKLAND. 2007. Fossil insect evidence for the end of the Western Settlement in Norse Greenland. Naturwissenschaften 94: 300-306. PARFITT, S.A., N.M. ASHTON, S.G. LEWIS, R.L. ABEL, G.R. COOPE, M.H. FIELD, R. GALE, P.G. HOARE, N.R. LARKIN, M.D. LEWIS, V. KARLOUKOVSKI, B.A. MAHER, S.M. PEGLAR, R.C. PREECE, J.E. WHITTAKER & C.B. STRINGER. 2010. Early Pleistocene occupation at the edge of the boreal zone in northwest Europe. Nature 466: 229-233. SMITH, D.N. 1999. Analysis of beetles in smoke blackened thatch, in J.B. Letts (ed.) Smoke blackened thatch; a unique source of late medieval plant remains from southern England: 42-43. English Heritage & Reading University. P P 5754 Paleoentomology: Insects and Other Arthropods in Environmental Archaeology SMITH D.N., N.J. WHITEHOUSE, M.J. BUNTING & H. CHAPMAN. 2010. Can we characterise “openness” in the Holocene palaeoenvironmental record? Modern analogue studies of insect faunas and pollen spectra from Dunham Massey deer park and Epping Forest, England. The Holocene 20: 1-22. WILL, K.W. & D. RUBINOFF. 2004. Myth of the molecule: DNA barcodes for species cannot replace morphology for identification and classification. Cladistics 20: 47–55. Further Reading ALLEY, R.B., D.A. MEESE, C.A. SHUMAN, A.J. GOW, K.C. TAYLOR, P.M. GROOTES, J.W.C. WHITE, M. RAM, E.D. WADDINGTON, P.A. MAYEWSKI & G.A. ZIELINSKI. 1993. Abrupt increase in the Greenland snow accumulation at the end of the Younger Dryas event. Nature 362: 527-529. ASHWORTH, A.C. 1973. The climatic significance of a late Quaternary insect fauna from Rodbaston Hall, Staffordshire, England. Entomologica Scandinavica 4: 191-205. BHIRY, N. & L. FILION. 1996. Mid-Holocene hemlock decline in eastern North America linked with phytophagous insect activity. Quaternary Research 45: 312-320. BRESCIANI, J., N. HAARLØV, P. NANSEN & G. MOLLER. 1989. Head lice in mummified Greenlanders from A.D. 1475, in J.P. Hart Hansen & H.C. Gulløv (ed.) The mummies from Qilakitsoq - Eskimos in the 15th century: 89-92. Meddelelser om Grønland, Man & Society 12. BUCKLAND, P.C. & D. PERRY. 1989a. Ectoparasites of sheep from Stóraborg, Iceland and their interpretation. Piss, parasites and people, a palaeoecological perspective. Hikuin 15: 37-46. BUCKLAND, P.C. & J. SADLER. 1989b. A biogeography of the human flea, Pulex irritans L. (Siphonaptera: Pulicidae). Journal of Biogeography 16: 115-120. BUCKLAND, P.C., J.P. SADLER & G. SVEINBJARNARDÖTTIR. 1992. Palaeoecological Investigations at Reykholt, western Iceland, in C.J. Morris & D.J. Rackham (ed.) Norse and later settlement and subsistence in the North Atlantic: 149-168. Glasgow: Dept. of Archaeology, University of Glasgow. BUCKLAND, P.C, P.I. BUCKLAND & D. HUGHES. 2005. Palaeoecological evidence for the Vera hypothesis?, in K.H. Hodder, J.M. Bullock, P.C. Buckland & K.J. Kirby Large herbivores in the wildwood and modern naturalistic grazing systems (English Nature Research Report 648): 62-116. Peterborough: English Nature. CLARK, S.H.E. & K.J. EDWARDS. 2004. Elm bark beetle in Holocene peat deposits and the northwest European elm decline. Journal of Quaternary Science 19: 525-528. COOPE, G.R. 1981. Report on the Coleoptera from an eleventh-century house at Christ Church Place, Dublin, in H. Bekker-Nielsen, P. Foote & O. Olsen (ed.) Proceedings of the Eighth Viking Congress (1977): 51-56. Odense: Odense University Press. COOPE, G.R., G. LEMDAHL, J.J. LOWE & A. WALKLING. 1998. Temperature gradients in northern Europe during the last glacial-Holocene transition (14-9 14C kyr BP) interpreted from coleopteran assemblages. Journal of Quaternary Science 13: 419-434. DITTMAR, K., U. MAMAT, M. WHITING, T. GOLDMANN, K. REINHARD & S. GUILLEN. 2003. Techniques of DNA-studies on Prehispanic ectoparasites (Pulex sp., Pulicidae, Siphonaptera) from animal mummies of the Chiribaya culture, southern Peru. Memórias do Instituto Oswaldo Cruz 98(Suppl. 1): 53-58. FIKÁČEK, M., A. PROKIN & R.B. ANGUS. 2011. A long-living species of the hydrophiloid beetles: Helophorus sibiricus from the early Miocene deposits of Karteshevo (Siberia, Russia). Zookeys 130: 239-254. GRUNIN, K.Y. 1973. [First find of the larvae of the mammoth botfly Cobboldia (Mamontia, subgen. n.) rusanovi sp. n. (Diptera, Gasterophilidae)]. Entomologicheskoe Obozrenie 52: 228-230. (Translated into English in Entomological Review 52: 228-230.) KENWARD, H.K. 1975. Pitfalls in the environmental interpretation of insect death assemblages. Journal of Archaeological Science 2: 85-94. - 1988. Insect remains, in K. Griffin, R.H. Okland, A.K.G. Jones, H.K. Kenward, R.W. Lie & E. Schia, Animal bones, moss, plant, insect and parasite remains: 115140 (in E. Schia (ed.) De arkeologiske utgravninger i Gamlebyen, Oslo 5. Øvre Ervik: Alveheim & Eide). - 1999. Pubic lice (Pthirus pubis) were present in Roman and medieval Britain. Antiquity 73: 911-915. KENWARD, H.K. & E. ALLISON. 1994. Rural origins of the urban insect fauna, in A.R. Hall & H.K. Kenward (ed.) Urban-rural connexions: perspectives from environmental archaeology (Oxbow Monograph 47): 55-78. Oxford: Oxbow. KENWARD, H.K. & A.R. HALL. 1997. Enhancing bioarchaeological interpretation using indicator groups: stable manure as a paradigm. Journal of Archaeological Science 24: 663-673. KOIVULA M., V. HYYRYLÄINEN & E. SOININEN. 2004. Carabid beetles (Coleoptera: Carabidae) at forestfarmland edges in southern Finland. Journal of Insect Conservation 8: 297-309. LEMDAHL, G. 1995. Insect remains from the Alvastra pile dwelling, in H. Göransson Alvastra pile dwelling. Palaeoethnobotanical studies (Theses and Papers in Archaeology N.S. A6): 97-99. Lund: Lund University Press. NIELSEN, B.O., V. MAHLER & P. RASMUSSEN. 2000. An arthropod assemblage and the ecological conditions in a byre at the Neolithic settlement of Weier, Switzerland. Journal of Archaeological Science 27: 209-218. OSBORNE, P.J. 1971. An insect fauna from the Roman site at Alcester, Warwickshire. Britannia 2: 156-165. - 1983. An insect fauna from a modern cesspit and its comparison with probable cesspit assemblages from Paleoethnobotany archaeological sites. Journal of Archaeological Science 10: 453-463. PANAGIOTAKOPULU, E. & P.C. BUCKLAND. 1999. The bed bug, Cimex lectularius L. from Pharaonic Egypt. Antiquity 73: 908-911. - 2010. The insect remains, in B. Kemp & A. Stevens (ed.) Busy lives at Amarna: excavations in the Main (City Grid 12 and the House of Ranefer, N49.18) 1: the excavations, architecture and environmental remains: 453-471. London: Egypt Exploration Society. Quaternary Entomology Bibliography. n.d. Available at: http://www.bugscep.com/qbib.html. REILLY, E. 2012. Fair and foul: analysis of sub-fossil insect remains from Troitsky XI-XIII, Novgorod (19962002), in M. Brisbane, N. Makarov & E. Nosov (ed.) The archaeology of medieval Novgorod in its wider context: a study of centre/periphery relations: 265282. Oxford: Oxbow Books. RICK, F.M., G.C. ROCHA, K. DITTMAR, C.E.A. COIMBRA, K. REINHARD, F. BOUCHET, L.F. FERRIERA & A. ARAÚJO. 2002. Crab louse infestation in pre-Columbian America. Journal of Parasitology 88: 1266-1267. ROBINSON, M.A. 1983. Arable/pastoral ratios from insects, in M. Jones (ed.) Integrating the subsistence economy (British Archaeological Reports S181): 19-47. Oxford: Archaeopress. SADLER, J.P., P.I. BUCKLAND & P.C. BUCKLAND. 2012. Sixteenth to early-nineteenth century deposits, in G. Sveinbjarnardóttir Reykholt: archaeological investigations at a high status farm in western Iceland: 227241. Reykjavı́k: National Museum of Iceland & Snorrastofa. Paleoethnobotany Glenn S. L. Stuart Department of Archaeology & Anthropology, University of Saskatchewan, Saskatoon, SK, Canada Introduction and Definition Paleoethnobotany is the study of behavioral and ecological interactions between past peoples and plants, documented through the analysis of pollen grains, charred seeds and wood, phytoliths, and residues (Ford 1979; Hastorf & Popper 1988; Warnock 1998; Pearsall 2000). It uses an ecological approach to elucidate the nature of human–plant interaction, seeking to understand not only which plants were used in 5755 P construction and manufacturing, as food or fuel, in religious observation, or as medicines, but also how they were used and why some plants had such uses while others did not. It seeks to explore how the range of taxa present in an area and their season of availability structured settlement patterns and subsistence practices. It documents the effects that past human populations, cultures, or groups may have had on the distribution of particular plant taxa and their impacts on plant communities and the environment in general. Paleoethnobotany is not about simply cataloging which plants past peoples consumed but rather attempts to better understand the nature of plant–human interdependency. Historical Background Paleoethnobotany has its origins in ethnobotany, which, in general, refers to the scientific study and recording of the interrelationships between plants and people in both the present and the past (Cotton 1996). As such, the roots of ethnobotany can be traced back through time in the writings of the Ancient Greeks, the Chinese, the Egyptians, and all the way to Sumer and the origins of writing itself, where records of grain yields and lists of cultivated plants were inscribed in cuneiform. Stephen Powers, however, can be seen as the father of the modern discipline, publishing, in 1875, an article entitled Aboriginal Botany, which he defined as “all the forms of the vegetable world which the aborigines use for medicine, food, textile fabrics, ornaments, etc.” (Powers 1875: 373). The term ethnobotany itself appears to have first been used by John Harshberger in a lecture he delivered in Pennsylvania in 1895, where he defined it to mean the study of plants used by aboriginal peoples. His subsequent 1896 publication, The Purposes of Ethnobotany, is generally accepted as heralding in the field of study (Harshberger 1896). The term paleoethnobotany was introduced in 1959 by Danish botanist Hans Helbaek and defined as how ancient cultures used plants. He wrote that paleoethnobotany resulted from the joining of botany and archaeology, stating “it is P P 5756 clear that any domesticated plant is an artifact, a product of human manipulation” (Helbaek 1959: 365). Helbaek’s positions were reinforced by Jane Renfrew (1973: 1), who defined the discipline “. . .as the study of the remains of plants cultivated or utilized by man in ancient times, which have survived in archaeological contexts.” Richard Ford (1979: 286) subsequently defined paleoethnobotany as “the analysis and interpretation of the direct interrelationships between humans and plants for whatever purpose as manifested in the archaeological record” (emphasis in original). Within the same article, he broadened the potential area of investigation by defining archaeobotany as “the study of plant remains derived from archaeological contexts” (Ford 1979: 299), breaking the previous bond between plants and human activity and allowing the incorporation of more ecologically oriented investigation. In the decades since, paleoethnobotany has moved toward a heuristic approach in which behavior and ecology have become intertwined, while the focus of research has moved away from the exploration of plant utility toward a more complete understanding of the reciprocal relationships between plants, people, and the socio-natural environments within which both are nested. Perhaps the first paleoethnobotanical research occurred in Egypt with Giuseppe (Joseph) Passalacqua, who lead an excavation of ancient tombs at Deir el-Bahri on the west bank of the Nile, opposite Thebes (Luxor). Among the artifacts, he found dried plant remains, which he turned over to botanist C. Kunth, who reported the results of his analysis in Passalacqua’s 1826 report (Passalacqua 1826). Paleoethnobotanical research subsequently spread beyond the arid lands of Egypt and into Europe – for example, botanist O. Heer analyzed plant remains from sites in Switzerland (Keller 1866) – and the Near East; in the latter area, a special emphasis was placed on studying the origins of agriculture, an emphasis that has continued through the years (Warnock 1998). Hans Helbaek, the originator of the term paleoethnobotany, was one of the leaders of this research, working both in the Near East and Europe (see especially Helbaek Paleoethnobotany 1960). In addition to examining seeds and other plant fragments, he was one of the first to recognize the potential of phytolith research. Research – and the number of researchers – in the New World trailed that of the Near East and Europe. Prior to the 1890s, the few paleoethnobotanical studies that were conducted were written mainly by botanists, whose interests lay in natural rather than cultural history. With the rise of anthropology and the training of ethnologists in the 1900s, research perspectives began to change. Botanists, aside from natural history, were primarily interested in determining how aboriginal knowledge of plant use could have utility in the modern world. The focus of anthropologists and ethnologists, on the other hand, was on the Native American perspective and how these plants were integrated into their world. David P. Barrows’ (1900) dissertation exemplified this approach, stressing the social and religious importance of plants among the Coahuila of California. But as with the Old World, there was considerable interest in the origins and spread of New World agriculture. Though much of the effort went toward discovering the origins and spread of the Mesoamerican derived crops of beans, squash, and especially corn (e.g., Mangelsdorf 1974), paleoethnobotanists were also interested in identifying and documenting the use of less well-known domesticates. Such research resulted in discovery of a range of such domesticates, including ragweed, pigweed, sunflower, and may grass in the eastern United States (e.g., Gilmore 1931), as well as agave, little barley, Mexican crucillo, and amaranth in the Southwest (e.g., Bohrer 1991). Early attention to the relationships between New World plants and people also lead to the discovery that it was not just agricultural peoples who modified their environments. In his study of the plant use among Plains Indians, Gilmore (1919), for example, determined that groups often introduced plants from one region into another and set fires to eliminate native plants considered to be weeds, thus increasing the amounts of certain types of plants, particularly those with edible seeds or tubers. Gilmore subsequently went on to become the first head of the Paleoethnobotany University of Michigan’s ethnobotanical laboratory established as part of the Museum of Anthropology. In this capacity, he solicited plant remains from archaeological sites across North America, thereby expanding both the scope and availability of paleoethnobotanical analysis in the New World. The pace of paleoethnobotanical research quickened significantly in the 1960s. Texas A&M University paleoethnobotanist Vaughn Bryant, for example, has calculated that between 1876 and 1965, there were about 375 substantive works published on plant remains from New World archaeological sites; today, such works number in the thousands. Partially, this is a result of the development of New Archaeology and the concomitant increase in attention paid to ecological approaches to analysis and from the growth in archaeological research resulting from legal requirements and the rise of cultural resource management studies. But this increase is also partially technological. Faced with a pit filled with extremely ashy fill, archaeologist Stuart Struever followed the suggestion of botanist Hugh Cutler, and the technique now known as flotation was born. Flotation refers to the gentle agitation of a sediment sample in a water bath so that charcoal and other plant materials float to the surface, where they can be collected. Whether done with a bucket and screen or a stand-alone high-efficiency closed-system machine, flotation is seen as the single most important technological development in paleoethnobotany (Pearsall 2000) as it greatly enhances both the concentration and collection of botanical remains over the previous norm of the serendipitous discovery of a charred seed. Key Issues Plant remains collected from archaeological sites, whether during the course of excavation or through flotation, constitute what are referred to as macrobotanical remains. Though such remains have traditionally formed the bulk of paleoethnobotanical analysis, modern paleoethnobotany also incorporates 5757 P microbotanical remains – chiefly pollen and phytoliths – as well as the chemical remnants of plants adhering to artifacts. All can provide data in regard to past human behavior, and several provide data on paleoenvironmental conditions as well. As most uncharred seeds decay within a century or so, uncharred seeds are likely to be of recent origin. Consequently, unless dealing with recent sites, arid climates (such as in the Near East) or other situations in which plant remains are likely to be well preserved (e.g., submerged sites or caves), paleoethnobotanical research emphasizes analysis of charred materials. In the Near East, research has emphasized analysis of seeds and related plant parts as these are more germane to the historical interest in agricultural origins; analysis of (charred) wood has been rather more limited. In the New World, analysis of charcoal (charred wood) and seeds (which include nuts and similar plant parts) has been more equal. Analysis of macrobotanical remains routinely provides information in regard to plants cultivated, collected, and consumed as well as those used as fuel, in the construction of shelters, for making various types of tools and other artifacts and for medicinal purposes. Depending on context, such remains may also provide information in regard to religious observations. Further, their analysis can provide insight into plants that were growing in the area, as well as those derived through trade. Palynology (the study of pollen grains) has a long history of use in paleoenvironmental reconstruction but also has considerable utility for paleoethnobotanical analyses. There are several characteristics of pollen grains that make them suitable for paleoethnobotanical (and paleoenvironmental) analysis. First, the amounts observed vary with the number and proximity of the source plants. Second, they are abundant, though the amount of pollen produced varies substantially from species to species – especially if comparing zoophilous (animal, chiefly insect, pollinated) to anemophilous (wind-pollinated) taxa – as well as from plant to plant. Third, pollen grains are durable; and fourth, they are morphologically distinctive. Finally, and of crucial P P 5758 importance for paleoethnobotanical studies, their amounts are affected by human activity. Thus, in addition to its use in reconstructing past vegetation patterns and inferring past environmental conditions, pollen analysis, like macrobotanical analysis, is well suited to documenting plants cultivated, collected, consumed, or used in rituals. Further, palynology can provide data on plant use not available from the macrobotanical record. In the American Southwest, for example, cholla cacti were a very important part of the prehistoric data but are seldom seen in the macrobotanical record as the desired product – flower buds – is unlikely to be preserved in that record. Instead, unusual frequencies of cholla pollen are required to document cholla use, as harvesting and processing of cholla flower buds often introduces relatively large numbers of cholla pollen into cultural settings. Systemic patterns in regard to the distribution and abundance of cholla pollen, and their deviance from those expected as a consequence of natural patterns of pollen production and dispersal, are used to identify unnatural occurrences of such pollen and evidence of resource use. As the quantity and quality of resource-use patterns accumulates, the ability to distinguish between those patterns associated with cultivation and those derived from collection may also become more apparent. An important counterpart to pollen analysis is phytolith analysis. Phytoliths are microscopic silica bodies that form in many living plants, and these forms are often morphologically distinctive. Furthermore, different phytolith forms may occur in different parts of the plant. Phytoliths that form in the roots of corn plants, for example, are morphologically different from those that form elsewhere in these plants; this fact has proven helpful in identifying the location of prehistoric agricultural fields, particularly when such phytoliths are found in conjunction with anomalous amounts of corn pollen (e.g., Stuart 2008). In contrast to pollen, phytoliths are not part of the plants’ reproductive process and therefore are not dispersed into the environment in the same Paleoethnobotany way as pollen. Instead, phytoliths enter an archaeological context through decay or burning of the source plant, or through a plants consumption and subsequent release (i.e., in coprolites or in soil from the abdominal area of a burial). Once deposited, phytoliths usually remain close to the point of deposition, though soil movement and formation processes may have an effect on final placement. As they are inorganic, phytoliths tend to be resistant to decay and therefore may be preserved in circumstances detrimental to organic preservation. Consequently, their study can be quite complementary to pollen analysis. Organic residues include a broad range of materials, and though organic residue analysis is a relatively new technique to archaeology, the archaeological application of residue studies is growing rapidly (Barnard & Eerkens 2007). Organic residue analysis can also be seen as a component of paleoethnobotanical research as plant residues such as starch grains and proteins can be obtained from a wide range of artifacts. Starch grains are tiny granules that are the main energy source for plants. Some starch grains, called storage starch, are quite durable and continue to exist long after the plant itself has died and rotted away. In this regard, then, they are quite comparable to phytoliths. Starches may be recovered from soil samples or collected off of artifacts; the latter makes them particularly appropriate for assessing artifact use. As with starch grains, the use of an artifact to process some plant (or animal) resource will result in the transfer of protein from that resource onto the artifact, and some of that protein may remain preserved on the artifact. Even minute quantities of such protein can be identified, providing important insight into artifact use. Given the rapid advancement in the archaeological applications of organic residue studies, it seems likely that DNA analysis of plant residues will also soon be part of the paleoethnobotanists analytical repertoire. Paleoethnobotany is well positioned to address a broad range of questions in regard to settlement and subsistence variability and human–environment interaction and impacts. Through paleoethnobotanical analysis, one can Paleoethnobotany address strategies for environment utilization, resource procurement and processing, and cultural–environmental relationships, impacts, and manipulations. A paleoethnobotanical assemblage dominated by cultivars and domesticates, for example, suggests a high degree of residential permanence, especially if combined with substantial aboveground and pit structures, storage facilities, and a site location with preference to arable land. By contrast, a paleoethnobotanical assemblage dominated by wild species, especially if accompanied by ephemeral structures and limited activity areas, suggests settlement mobility. Further, specialized activity areas such as prehistoric agricultural fields, with or without accompanying rock features, can be recognized by a combination of unusually high frequencies of pollen and phytoliths of weedy taxa with high incidences of pollen and phytoliths of cultivated plants. Quantitative analyses of paleoethnobotanical remains can be expected to identify patterns of utilization and help determine relative emphasis on different subsistence strategies. The relative proportion of remains of domesticates and cultivated plants versus wild and collected plants allows the paleoethnobotanist to assess the relative importance of cultivated versus collected foods at any given site and how these reliances differ spatially and temporally. The relative abundance of such plant remains can also inform on occupational intensity. Further, differential distribution of floral (and faunal) remains within a site may reveal specialized activity loci, functional variability, sample bias, social hierarchy, or other variables. Additionally, identification of relationships between artifact types (e.g., spindle whorls) and plant resources (e.g., cotton or agave fibers) can be used to infer local production. And correlation of distribution patterns of botanical remains with those of faunal remains, stone tools, and vessel forms can be used to establish site/feature function. Similarly, quantitative analysis of paleobotanical remains (i.e., plant remains from non-site or off-site contexts believed less intensively affected by human activity) allows documentation of diachronic and synchronic environmental 5759 P variability and how such variability may have affected past subsistence and settlement systems. Such data also provides a baseline (or control) from which to identify behaviorally induced botanical patterns. Chronology is often of archaeological concern. Paleoethnobotanical research can be instrumental in not only identifying those contexts most suitable for chronometric analysis but will also provide the most appropriate samples. Rather than use of wood for radiometric dating, with its well-documented limitations, the routine separation, identification, and tabulation of charred annuals – which forms the basis of flotation analysis – provides the ideal specimens for radiocarbon assays. Furthermore, pollen can and has been radiometrically dated (e.g., Stuart 2003), and pollen analysis would identify those samples most appropriate for dating. Future Directions While the incorporation of new techniques into the suite of available analyses is a welcome component of future paleoethnobotanical research, some modification of traditional approaches to paleoethnobotanical analysis would also be welcome. It is unfortunate that sampling procedures and quantification methods often vary from site to site and researcher to researcher, making direct comparison of results often difficult; a more unified approach to these topics would greatly enhance comparability of these results. Though these problems have long been known, a definitive means by which to address them has not been forthcoming and remains an important issue for future research. At least as pressing a problem as sampling and quantification is the role of the paleoethnobotanist. Or more particularly, at what stage in a research project a paleoethnobotanist is included. Often, and especially with cultural resource management projects, samples are shipped off to paleoethnobotanists without their having been part of the original planning or excavation; indeed, often they are sent without P P 5760 information in regard to the research questions and research design being included. Ideally, analysts (and not just paleoethnobotanists) should be involved in all aspects of the project, from formulation, planning, and identifying research questions through excavation, sampling, and sample selection. When involved in a project from the beginning and with greater knowledge of the goals of the project, the better can paleoethnobotanical data be integrated into the project and used to more clearly address questions posed in the research design. Indeed, if integrated into the project from the beginning, the paleoethnobotanist can help formulate and refine the research design and therefore contribute more directly to and facilitate achieving of the projects research goals. Cross-References ▶ Archaeobotany ▶ Archaeobotany of Agricultural Intensification ▶ Archaeobotany of Early Agriculture: Macrobotany ▶ Archaeobotany of Early Agriculture: Microbotanical Analysis ▶ Phytolith Studies in Archaeology References BARNARD, J. & J. W. EERKENS (ed.) 2007. Theory and practice of archaeological residue analysis. Oxford: Archaeopress. BARROWS, D.P. 1900. The ethno-botany of the Coahuila Indians of southern California. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. BOHRER, V. 1991. Recently recognized cultivated and encouraged plants among the Hohokam. Kiva 56: 227–35. COTTON, C.M. 1996. Ethnobotany: principles and applications. Chichester: John Wiley & Sons. FORD, R. 1979. Paleoethnobotany in American archaeology. Advances in Archaeological Method and Theory 2: 285–336. GILMORE, M.R. 1919. Uses of plants by the Indians of the Missouri River region (Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology 33). Washington: Government Printing Office. Paleoindians - 1931. Vegetal remains of the Ozark bluff-dweller culture. Papers of the Michigan Academy of Science, Arts, and Letters 14: 83–102. HARSHBERGER, J.W. 1896. The purposes of ethnobotany. The Botanical Gazette 21: 146–54. HASTORF, C.A. & V.S. POPPER (ed.). 1988. Current paleoethnobotany: analytical methods and cultural interpretations of archaeological plant remains. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. HELBAEK, H. 1959. Domestication of food plants in the Old World. Science 130: 365–73. - 1960. The paleoethnobotany of the Near East and Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. KELLER, F. 1866. The lake dwellings of Switzerland and other parts of Europe. London: Longmans, Green, and Co. MANGELSDORF, P. 1974. Corn: its origin, evolution, and improvement. Cambridge (MA): Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. PASSALACQUA, J. 1826. Catalogue raisonné et historique des antiquités découvertes en E´gypte. Paris: A La Galerie D’Antiquités Égyptiennes. PEARSALL, D. 2000. Paleoethnobotany: a handbook of procedures, 2nd edn. San Diego: Academic Press. POWERS, S. 1875. Aboriginal botany. Proceedings, California Academy of Sciences 5: 373–9. RENFREW, J.M. 1973. Paleoethnobotany: the prehistoric food plants of the Near East and Europe. New York: Columbia University Press. STUART, G.S.L. 2003. Pre-Hispanic sociopolitical development and wetland agriculture in the Tequila Valleys of West Mexico. Unpublished PhD dissertation, Arizona State University. STUART, G.S.L. 2008. Paleoethnobotany of Marriott La Plaza, in J. Tactikos (ed.) Results of phased data recovery for the Tempe Marriott Residence Inn project, Tempe, Maricopa County, Arizona. Tempe: Archaeological Consulting Services. WARNOCK, P. 1998. From plant domestication to phytolith interpretation: the history of paleoethnobotany in the Near East. Near Eastern Archaeology 61: 238–52. Paleoindians Christopher J. Ellis Department of Anthropology, University of Western Ontario, London, ON, Canada Introduction Paleoindian (also spelled Paleo-Indian, Palaeo-Indian), or literally “Old” or “Ancient” Indian, is a term widely employed to refer to the Paleoindians archaeological record of the Americas dating to the Late Pleistocene to Early Holocene from as early as perhaps 11,500 14C years BP to as late as 8,000 years BP in some areas (13,500–8,800 calibrated years BP). The term is often used to distinguish this segment of the archaeological record from that of potentially earlier dating, “Pre-Clovis” peoples, and later-dating, PostPaleoindian “Archaic” and other peoples. A basic distinction has often been made, particularly in North America, between “Early” Paleoindians (prior to c. 10,400–10,100 BP), who produced distinctive, flaked, lanceolate, stone point tips with grooved or fluted bases (see Fig. 1), and “Late” Paleoindians (after c.10,400–10,100 BP) who made unfluted lanceolate and stemmed points. Many different and finer Paleoindian regional/temporal subdivisions, variously referred to as cultures, complexes, industries, or phases, also have been suggested of which the earliest well-established and most widespread subdivision is Clovis, dated c. 11,000 14C years BP. Such distinctions have been made primarily on the basis of differences in the stone point assemblages although other, usually more subtle, differences in stone tool kits and production technology are present. For example, only Clovis Paleoindians seem to have employed a true blade technology. Definition The term Paleoindian was first used by Frank H. H. Roberts Jr. in the title of a 1940 paper. He did not define the term and only used it once in the text in the last line of that paper. Yet, it was clear that he was using the term in a general sense to refer to any archaeological evidence that existed at that time that seemed to be of considerable antiquity and thus had a bearing on when the Americas were first peopled. This evidence included the famous discoveries of the previous 13 years at sites like Folsom and Clovis, New Mexico, and Dent and Lindenmeier, Colorado (for a summary, see Wormington 1957), where the distinctive point tips and other exquisitely made stone artifacts had been found in Late Pleistocene contexts, often in kill sites in 5761 P association with extinct megafauna such as mammoths and large bison species. However, Roberts (1940) also discussed sites that were apparently of some antiquity but yielded less well-made lithic assemblages that often included smaller, non-lanceolate point forms, cruder choppers and scrapers, and even, on occasion, grinding and milling stones. Only rarely do current researchers use the term in Roberts’ (1940) general sense. In most quarters the term has come to be used in more limited and specialized ways. In the 1950s there was an increasing tendency to restrict the usage of the term Paleoindian to assemblages that not only were of some antiquity but also could be separated out from later or even potentially earlier ones in terms of certain characteristics. Particularly stressed were characteristics of the archaeological record itself, such as the kinds of artifacts produced and distinctive aspects of the sites, or in terms of ideas about the lifeways (e.g., subsistence and economic practices) and other aspects of the cultural systems of these groups. In terms of the artifact record, today’s scholars stress the presence of the stone lanceolate or lance-shaped point tips and, particularly in some slightly later-dating assemblages in areas such as the Plains, Great Basin, and South America, stemmed forms – points with side or corner notches for hafting to the weapon shaft are absent; a stone tool kit dominated by more formalized, extensively retouched/resharpened tools such as bifaces, side scrapers, and hafted end scrapers; overall excellence in flint-knapping skill; the selection of only the highest grades of flakeable stone materials (“cryptocrystallines”); a tendency to transport toolstones over long distances; the use of standardized core reduction techniques including true blade industries in the earliest well-established Paleoindian development (e.g., “Clovis”) as well as more generally the use of large biface cores; an absence of ground and polished stone tools; and, at least to some (e.g., Krieger 1964), an absence of food-grinding implements used in plant processing. To this list I would add the regular use of thick edges produced by the purposeful snapping or radial P P 5762 Paleoindians Paleoindians, Fig. 1 Paleoindian stone points and preforms from various sites in Northeastern North America. (a–g) Early Paleoindian fluted bifaces; (h) Late Paleoindian contracting stem biface (Drawings by Janie Ravenhurst and Ian T. Kenyon) breakage of bifaces and flakes, the consistent presence of certain kinds of other distinctive artifacts such as large side scrapers and well-made needlelike micro-piercers and borers (“gravers”) (Fig. 2) and, for some reason, a real absence or rarity of fire-cracked/broken rocks used in heating and cooking. The last named is a major contrast with subsequent Archaic and other sites. Paleoindian sites themselves are seen to contrast with those of their later descendants in that they are rare and ephemeral with little evidence for substantial structures or other features. However, utilitarian, as well as apparently sacred, caches of stone artifacts are proving to be especially common (e.g., Deller et al. 2009). The sacred caches or offerings can be purposefully broken either by heating or by deliberate smashing (e.g., Fig. 3) and some are accompanied by red ochre. Where preservation is suitable, a very few of the sacred caches are accompanying burials but in other cases they are not. Using minimally the presence of the distinctive, well-made stone points as a defining characteristic, Paleoindian sites can be found throughout all of unglaciated North America of the time, both south of the ice sheets and in Alaska, all of Paleoindians 5763 P Paleoindians, Fig. 2 Paleoindian unifacial stone tools from various sites in the Province of Ontario and New York State. (a–d) Trianguloid end scrapers; (e) Large end and side scraper; (f) Double concave-convex side scraper; (g–j) Micropiercers or gravers (arrows show spur locations) (Drawings by Janie Ravenhurst) P Paleoindians, Fig. 3 Biface (a) and large uniface (b) purposefully broken by radial breaks from Caradoc Site, Ontario, Canada P 5764 Central America, and, more spottily, in areas of South America such as the southern cone and northwest parts of that continent. The small size and ephemeral nature of most sites, the use of exotic toolstones from distant sources, the employment of standardized core reduction techniques that some have interpreted as resulting in a more efficiently produced and portable tool kit, etc. have often led to the inference that Paleoindians lived in small groups and practiced a highly, mobile lifestyle, moving their camps frequently and over a large area annually. Such characteristics are frequently related to the arguments that Paleoindians were the first major occupants of the area, were involved in colonizing new regions, and lived at low population densities. Also, as the first reported sites in the Western USA were almost all kill sites of large game, along with an absence of food-grinding implements, it was often inferred that these peoples relied much more on hunting than did later groups such as those of the Archaic (e.g., Mason 1962; Krieger 1964). Some even went so far as to suggest or use alternative terms for Paleoindian such as “Early Hunter” or “Early American Hunters” to reflect this inferred lifestyle. These definitions based on inferred cultural characteristics such as mobility and subsistence practices, while popular, have been and continue to be problematic, especially when applied at continental scales. For instance, many later Plains Paleoindian groups do not seem to have relied much on exotic stones nor on standardized, purportedly more portable, core forms like bifaces, suggesting they had a less mobile lifestyle (e.g., Bamforth 2002). Also, many have questioned the idea that Paleoindians were primarily big-game hunters, notably in areas such as the American Southeast, the Great Basin, or much of South America. In these cases, there often have been calls to abandon the use of the term Paleoindian to refer to these early peoples. In the Great Basin, for example, while some lithic assemblages seem technologically Paleoindian, settlement pattern data, paleoenvironmental data, and faunal recoveries suggest a broader resource focus leading to investigators Paleoindians calling certain assemblages “Paleoarchaic” (for discussion, see Madsen 2007). In South America, a lack of substantial evidence for a big-game hunting focus in many areas has led some to conclude that Paleoindian is a term that cannot be easily applied there and terms such as “proto-Archaic” have been suggested as alternatives (e.g., Dillehay 2000: 7-8). However, it is worth stressing that there is evidence that does suggest some of these early groups, such as Clovis in the Southwest USA, seem to have relied relatively heavily on larger game such as mammoths (Waguespack & Surovell 2003). Apparently the Paleoindian flaked stone technology was a very flexible one, capable of use in a wide range of subsistence and economic contexts. Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples Beyond the long-standing problems of the exact nature of their lifestyle/economic organization and of providing a rigorous, consistent definition, the use of the term “Paleoindian” itself also has become contentious. Some have suggested that these early peoples may have originated in areas such as western Europe rather than as, in the traditional view, east Asia/Siberia (see below). In addition, there have been studies of the limited early skeletal material that suggest the earliest peoples were morphologically different from more recent “Indian” populations. Hence, several recent scholars prefer the term “Paleoamerican” (Meltzer (2009: 175-6, 205) reviews these issues and in agreement with him, I am not impressed with their rationale). Also, the indigenous scholar Eldon Yellowhorn (2003: 62) has argued that the use of the term Paleoindian should be replaced with the term “Paleolithic” to achieve “the objective of placing Aboriginal peoples on an equal basis with other early peoples elsewhere in the World.” Perhaps the most contentious issue in Paleoindian studies concerns the origins of these peoples. The traditional view has been that Clovis Paleoindian peoples were the first inhabitants and this viewpoint is consistent with the widespread Paleoindians distribution of the distinctive Clovis technology over a very large area. Moreover, in the traditional view, Clovis technology is very much like that of the Asian (and European) Upper Paleolithic, notably in the inclusion of a true blade industry, the inclusion of burins (albeit very rarely such that some dispute that the reported Clovis examples are actually purposeful burins), and of similarities in organic technologies including the production of shaft wrenches and cylindrical points having on one basal side a beveled surface incised with cross-hatched lines. The genetic and physical evidence could be and was used to argue specifically for an ultimate origin in the East Asian/ Siberian Upper Paleolithic. However, some have argued that more unique aspects of the Clovis archaeological record, such as the production of large bifaces that are thinned by repetitive, stylized use of “overshot” flaking (e.g., large flake removals that are deliberately carried across the whole biface surface and actually detach a small area of the biface edge opposite the striking platform edge) or the caching of large bifaces, have closer analogs in the Upper Paleolithic of Europe, specifically in the Solutrean of Spain and France. This evidence leads them to argue for a European origin and that people crossed the north Atlantic Ocean along the edge of the ice sheets at the time to reach the Americas (Bradley & Stanford 2004). Needless to say, several scholars have objected to this idea, pointing out, among other things, that Solutrean material dates thousands of years earlier than Clovis and that all known Clovis biface caches are actually in western North America rather than in the presumed point of entry in the east (see Meltzer 2009: 185-8). There have also long been claims of archaeological finds predating Clovis Paleoindian ones, finds that would undermine the “Clovis first” idea. Many of the earliest claimed sites were characterized by very simple flaked stone technologies that lacked stone projectile points and hence were often referred to a “Pre-Projectile Point” era (see Krieger 1964). However, the vast majority of those sites have been discredited or their status remains unclear. Yet, since the 1970s 5765 P there have been increasing reports, albeit not undisputed, of Pre-Clovis assemblages dating c. 16,000–11,500 14C years BP window that do include points including lanceolate as well as smaller triangular forms and some sites are said to also include evidence of blade industries (for a recent summary, see Pitblado 2011) and even, in one case from Texas, the production of radial break and snapped edge tools (Waters et al. 2011). If so, then they might be plausible Clovis and other Paleoindian ancestors – the presence of these points and standardized core working would suggest they can be viewed favorably as Paleoindian per se rather than as simply “Pre-Clovis.” At a theoretical level, there has been a real tendency to explain the Paleoindian archaeological record in more materialist terms. For example, as hinted above there has been a preponderance of arguments that attempt to explain aspects of that record, such as technological characteristics, in terms of simply what Paleoindians were eating and/or how far and how often they moved across the landscape. However, as also indicated above, that viewpoint has become increasingly problematic or at the very least seems oversimplified – Paleoindian groups using similar technologies apparently had a diversity of subsistence and mobility practices. As such, and in line with more general theoretical trends within the discipline as a whole, there have been increasing calls for more people-centered approaches to interpretation that foreground more explicitly these peoples’ beliefs, the construction of social identities, and more broadly their histories in order to understand why their archaeological record differs from that of other peoples (e.g., Ellis 2009). Cross-References ▶ Clovis and Folsom, Indigenous Occupation Prior to ▶ North American Plains: Geography and Culture ▶ North American Terminal Pleistocene Extinctions: Current Views P P 5766 Paleoindians References WORMINGTON, H. M. 1957. Ancient man in North America (Popular series 4). Denver (CO): Denver Museum of Natural History. YELLOWHORN, E. 2003. Regarding the American Paleolithic. Canadian Journal of Archaeology 27: 62-73. BAMFORTH, D.B. 2002. High-Tech foragers? Folsom and later Paleoindian technology on the Great Plains. Journal of World Prehistory 16: 55-98. BRADLEY, B. & D. STANFORD. 2004. The North Atlantic ice-edge corridor: a possible Palaeolithic route to the New World. World Archaeology 36: 459-78. DELLER, D.B., C.J. ELLIS & J.R. KERON. 2009. Understanding cache variability: a deliberately burned early Paleoindian tool assemblage from the Crowfield site, southwestern Ontario, Canada. American Antiquity 74: 371-97. DILLEHAY, T. D. 2000. The settlement of the Americas, a new prehistory. New York (NY): Basic Books. ELLIS, C. J. 2009. The Crowfield and Caradoc sites, Ontario: glimpses of Palaeo-Indian sacred ritual and world view, in D.L. Keenlyside & J-L. Pilon (ed.) Painting the past with a broad brush. Papers in honour of James Valliere Wright (Mercury series Archaeology Paper 170): 319-52. Gatineau (QC): Canadian Museum of Civilization. KRIEGER, A.D. 1964. Early man in the New World, in J.D. Jennings & E. Norbeck (ed.) Prehistoric man in the New World: 23-81. Chicago (IL): The University of Chicago Press. MADSEN, D.B. 2007. The Paleoarchaic to Archaic transition in the Great Basin, in K.E. Graf & D.N. Schmitt (ed.) Paleoindian or paleoarchaic? Great Basin human ecology at the Pleistocene-Holocene transition: 3-20. Salt Lake City (UT): The University of Utah Press. MASON, R.J. 1962. The Paleo-Indian tradition in eastern North America. Current Anthropology 3: 227-46. MELTZER, D. J. 2009. First peoples in a new world: colonizing Ice Age America. Berkeley (CA): University of California Press. PITBLADO, B. 2011. A tale of two migrations: reconciling recent biological and archaeological evidence for the Pleistocene peopling of the Americas. Journal of Archaeological Research 19: 327-75. ROBERTS, F.H.H.JR. 1940. Developments in the problem of the North American Paleoindian. in Essays in historical anthropology of North America in honor of John R. Swanton in celebration of his fortieth year with the Smithsonian Institution (Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections 100): 51-116. Washington (DC): Smithsonian. WAGUESPACK, N. & T. SUROVELL. 2003. Clovis hunting strategies, or how to make out on plentiful resources. American Antiquity 68: 333-52. WATERS, M.R., S.L. FORMAN, T.A. JENNINGS, L.C. NORDT, S.G. DRIESE, J.M. FEINBERG, J.L. KEENE, J. HALLIGAN, A. LINDQUIST, J. PIERSON, C.T. HALLMARK, M.B. COLLINS & J.E. WIEDERHOLD. 2011. The Buttermilk Creek complex and the origins of Clovis at the Debra L. Friedkin site, Texas. Science 331: 1599-1603. Further Reading ANDERSON, D. & K.E. SASSAMAN (ed.) 1996. The Paleoindian and early archaic Southeast. Tuscaloosa (AL): University of Alabama Press. BAMFORTH, D.B. 2011. Origin stories, archaeological evidence, and Postclovis Paleoindian bison hunting on the Great Plains. American Antiquity 76: 24-40. BEVER, M. R. 2001. Stone tool technology and the Mesa complex: developing a framework of Alaskan Paleoindian prehistory. Arctic Anthropology 38(2): 98-118. BONNICHSEN, R. & K. TURNMIRE. (ed.) 1999. Ice-Age peoples of North America. Corvallis (OR): Center for the Study of the First Americans. BRADLEY, B.A., M.B. COLLINS & A. HEMMINGS. 2010. Clovis technology (International Monographs in Prehistory, Archaeological series 17). Ann Arbor (MI). ELLIS, C.J. & J.C. LOTHROP. (ed.) 1989. Eastern Paleoindian lithic resource use. Boulder (CO): Westview Press. FIEDEL, S.J. 1999. Older than we thought: implications of corrected dates for Paleoindians. American Antiquity 64: 95-115. FIGGINS, J. D. 1927. The antiquity of man in America. Natural History 27: 229-39. FRISON, G.C. & B.A. BRADLEY. 1980. Folsom tools and technology at the Hanson site, Wyoming. Albuquerque (NM): University of New Mexico Press. GILLESPIE, J. 2007. Enculturing an unknown world: caches and Clovis landscape ideology. Canadian Journal of Archaeology 31: 171-89. GRAMLY, R.M. (ed.) 1984. New experiments upon the record of eastern Palaeoindian cultures. Archaeology of Eastern North America 12 (whole issue). GRIFFIN, J. B. 1967. Eastern North American archaeology: a summary. Science 156: 175-91. HAYDEN, B.D. 1982. Interaction parameters and the demise of Paleo-Indian craftsmanship. Plains Anthropologist 27: 109-23. HAYNES, C.V. 1982. Were Clovis progenitors in Beringia?, in D. Hopkins, J. Mathews, C. Schweger & S. Young (ed.) Paleoecology of Beringia: 383-98. New York (NY): Academic Press. KELLY, R.L. & L. TODD. 1988. Coming into the country: early Paleoindian hunting and mobility. American Antiquity 53: 231-44. KILBY, D.H. 2008. An investigation of Clovis caches: content, function, and technological organization. PhD dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University of New Mexico. Ann Arbor (MI): University Microfilms. Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Overview KORNFELD, M., M. HARKIN & J. DURR. 1999. Landscapes and peopling of the Americas, in J. Gillepsie, S. Tupakka & C. de Mille (ed.) On being first: cultural innovation and environmental consequences of first peopling: 149-62. Calgary (AL): Archaeological Association of the University of Calgary. LYNCH, T.F. 1991. Paleoindians in South America: a discrete and identifiable cultural stage?, in R. Bonnichsen & K. Turnmire (ed.) Clovis origins and adaptations: 255-359. Corvallis (OR): Center for the Study of the First Americans. MELTZER, D.J. 1988. Late Pleistocene human adaptations in eastern North America. Journal of World Prehistory 2: 1-52. MELTZER, D.J. & B.D. SMITH. 1986. Paleoindian and Early Archaic subsistence strategies in eastern North America, in: S.W. Neusius (ed.) Foraging, collecting and harvesting: Archaic period subsistence and settlement in the Eastern Woodlands (Occasional Paper 6): 3-31. Carbondale (IL): Southern Illinois University at Carbondale, Center for Archaeological Investigations. MORROW, J.A. & C. GNECCO. (ed.) 2006. Paleoindian archaeology: a hemispheric perspective. Gainesville (FL): University Presses of Florida. PEARSON, G.A. 2004. Pan-American Paleoindian dispersals and the origins of fishtail projectile points as seen through the lithic raw material reduction strategies and tool-manufacturing techniques at the Guardiria site, Turrialba valley, Costa Rica, in C.M. Barton, G.A. Clark, D.R. Yesner & G.A. Pearson (ed.) The settlement of the American continents, a multi-disciplinary approach to human geography: 85-102. Tucson (AZ): The University of Arizona Press. ROOSEVELT, A.C., J. DOUGLAS & L. BROWN. 2002. The migrations and adaptations of the first Americans: Clovis and Pre-Clovis viewed from South America, in N.G. Jablonski (ed.) The first Americans: the Pleistocene colonization of the New World (Memoirs of the California Academy of Sciences 27): 159-235. San Francisco (CA): California Academy of Sciences. SMITH, A. G. 1957. Suggested changes in the nomenclature of the major American time periods. American Antiquity 23: 169. STAFFORD, M. D., G. C. FRISON, D. STANFORD & G. ZIEMANS. 2002. Digging for the color of life: Paleoindian red ochre mining at the Powars II Site, Platte County, Wyoming, U.S.A. Geoarcheology 18: 71-90. STEELE, D.G. & J.F. POWELL. 2002. Facing the past: a view of the North American human fossil record, in N. G. Jablonski (ed.) The first Americans: the Pleistocene colonization of the New World (Memoirs of the California Academy of Sciences 27): 93-122. San Francisco (CA): California Academy of Sciences. STRAUS, L.G., D. J. MELTZER & T. GOEBEL. 2006. Ice Age Atlantis? Exploring the Solutrean-Clovis ‘connection’. World Archaeology 37: 507-32. TANKERSLEY, K. B. 2004. The concept of Clovis and the peopling of North America, in C.M. Barton, G.A. 5767 P Clark, D.R. Yesner & G.A. Pearson (ed.) The settlement of the American continents, a multi-disciplinary approach to human geography: 49-63. Tucson (AZ): The University of Arizona Press. WALKER, R. B. & B. N. DRISKELL. 2007. Foragers of the terminal Pleistocene in North America. Lincoln (NB): University of Nebraska Press. WATERS, M.R. & T.W. STAFFORD, JR. 2007. Redefining the age of Clovis: implications for the peopling of the Americas. Science 315: 1122-6. Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Overview Elizabeth A. Walker Department of Archaeology & Numismatics, Amgueddfa Cymru – National Museum Wales, Cardiff, UK Introduction There are many caves in the Carboniferous Limestone bands that stretch across South Wales from Gower to Pembrokeshire and in Northeast Wales. Many of these caves have been used for human occupation in the past, and many of them have been investigated, either formally or informally, over the years. The results of this work enable a picture to be drawn together of a human presence in Wales dating back some 225,000 years. Definition The Paleolithic occupation of what is now Wales can be seen to span a time period from evolutionary early Neanderthals at Pontnewydd Cave, through evidence for a true Neanderthal presence at sites that include Coygan Cave to the arrival of evolutionary modern humans at Paviland Cave, Cathole Cave, and Ffynnon Beuno before the last Glacial maximum. Humans withdrew from Wales during the coldest time of the last Glacial to reappear when vegetation and a food source P P 5768 Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Overview had once again reestablished themselves during the post-Glacial period, around 12,600 BP. Their presence is not thought to have been continuous, there being a short gap in the sequence of evidence during the late Glacial Younger Dryas stadial event, with humans reappearing after a gap of around 1,000 years, never again to leave Wales. Key Issues Pontnewydd Cave, Denbighshire, defines the starting point for a human presence in Wales at around 225,000 BP (see Walker’s EGA entry Pontnewydd Cave). Excavations at Pontnewydd Cave have recovered the remains of 16 hominin teeth and one tooth fragment. These represent a minimum of five evolutionary early Neanderthal individuals aged from 8½ years to mature adult. These hominins left behind over 1,284 stone tools, among which is a Levallois technology accompanying Acheulian bifaces and an associated faunal assemblage. The activity at the cave suggests the main hominin activity took place just outside the cave and that the people were expediently making use of local raw materials for their toolkits. There is no in situ evidence for these early Neanderthals’ presence at the cave. The deposits have all been washed into the cave during a series of debris flow events that took place sometime just before the development of the stalagmite floor. It is this stalagmite and thermoluminescence from burnt flints that date the hominin occupation at Pontnewydd Cave at 225,000 BP (Fig. 1; Green 1984; Aldhouse-Green et al. 2012). A number of single chance finds, some of uncertain or dubious provenance, make up much of the rest of the evidence for a lower Paleolithic presence in Wales. Among these are single bifaces from reliable provenances from Afon Marlais, Narberth, Pembrokeshire (Green & Walker 1991: 30-1), and Rhossili, Gower, Swansea (Fig. 2; Green 1981). The number of such finds is, however, small, and sites tend to be single spots where chance losses have been made. These do not provide reliable evidence Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Overview, Fig. 1 The exterior of Pontnewydd Cave, Denbighshire. # National Museum of Wales Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Overview, Fig. 2 Biface from Rhossili, Gower, Swansea. # National Museum of Wales Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Overview 5769 P Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Overview, Fig. 3 The bifaces found at Coygan Cave, Laugharne, Carmarthenshire. # National Museum of Wales for their dating but hint at what must have been a more extensive hominin presence in Wales than the single, well-excavated site of Pontnewydd Cave might suggest. A true Neanderthal presence in Wales is indicated by finds made in excavations at just a small number of sites. The oldest of these is Coygan Cave, a site excavated at various times in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The site mainly contained a hyena den assemblage with a middle last Glacial fauna among which are the heavily gnawed remains of Mammuthus primigenius, Coelodonta antiquitatis, Rangifer tarandus, Bison priscus, and Ursus arctos (Aldhouse-Green et al. 1995). As well as hyena occupants, a human use of the cave is hinted at through the discovery of three bout coupé bifaces and three worked flakes. Two of these bifaces were seemingly cached, having been carefully left together beside the cave wall (Fig. 3). Perhaps it was the Neanderthal’s intention to return to the cave to make future use of the tools (White & Jacobi 2002). The dating of the Neanderthal presence at Coygan is currently thought to lie between 66,000 and 38,000 BP, based on redating of associated faunal material by the late Roger Jacobi (pers. comm.). Levallois flakes were discovered during the excavations ahead of the construction of the Second Severn Crossing at Sudbrook, Monmouthshire (Green 1989: 194-6). These also imply a Neanderthal presence in Wales; unfortunately, dating the Sudbrook assemblage is not possible due to the lack of a stratigraphic context for the finds. Further hints at a Neanderthal presence can be seen in the presence of leaf points at two Welsh cave sites: Ffynnon Beuno, Tremeirchion, Denbighshire, and Paviland Cave, Gower, Swansea; there is also a chance find made away from the caves at Goldcliff, Monmouthshire (Jacobi & Higham 2010a: 186). The arrival of evolutionary modern humans in Wales appears to have taken place sometime around 36,000 years ago based on dated parallels from elsewhere in the UK (Jacobi & Higham 2010a: 188). There are currently just two sites known from Wales where there is an Aurignacian presence. Paviland Cave, Gower, Swansea, contained the largest assemblage (see Walker’s EGA entry Paviland Cave). Here, stone tools of diagnostic Aurignacian forms were found. The second site is Hoyle’s Mouth Cave, Tenby, Pembrokeshire, from where a single Aurignacian burin busqué is recorded (Green & Walker 1990: 58). An early Gravettian presence is demonstrated in Wales by the rich burial of a skeleton within Paviland Cave, Gower, Swansea (also known as Goat’s Hole; Fig. 4). The burial has been redated to around 29,000 radiocarbon years BP by Jacobi and Higham (2008). The skeleton, known as the P P 5770 Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Overview, Fig. 4 The exterior of Paviland Cave, Gower, Swansea. # National Museum of Wales “Red Lady” of Paviland Cave, is that of a young adult male who was buried carefully in a grave with perforated shells, ivory rods, and bracelets. Red ocher was present in the burial (AldhouseGreen 2000). A later Gravettian activity is seen by the presence of tanged blades (or font Robert points), the dating of which may be around 28,000 radiocarbon years BP, based on parallels from the site of Maisières-Canal, Belgium (Jacobi & Higham 2010a: 210). These have been found in the assemblage from Paviland Cave and also Cathole Cave, Gower, Swansea, where the context is also not recorded (Garrod 1926: 66-7). As would be expected, there is no clear evidence for a human presence in Wales during the height of the last Glacial and evidence provided by the recent work of Jacobi and Higham (2010a) has pushed the departure of humans from Wales further back than dating evidence from Paviland Cave Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Overview Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Overview, Fig. 5 A Cheddar point from Nanna’s Cave, Caldey Island, Pembrokeshire. # National Museum of Wales had previously indicated (Aldhouse-Green 2000). That there was a hiatus in human presence in the country is to be expected, given the proximity of the ice that covered the majority of the country, just stopping short of covering the entirety of Wales. New dating of bones from Sun Hole, Cheddar, Somerset, suggests that humans had returned to southern Britain by 12,600 BP and reached Wales soon afterward (Jacobi & Higham 2010b). The colonization of Britain at this period is thought to be at a time when wild horses were a key part of the fauna and which were very soon joined by red deer and wild cattle. The diversity of a large game fauna may have been the factor that enabled the Wales to be resettled at this time (Jacobi & Higham 2010b: 243). Lithic artifacts from Welsh caves that indicate a human presence are Cheddar points, end scrapers, burins, piercers, and retouched truncations (Fig. 5). The en éperon Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Overview 5771 P Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Overview, Fig. 6 Penknife points from Priory Farm Cave, Pembroke, Pembrokeshire. # National Museum of Wales butt preparation technique is also a distinctive indicator for tools of such age (Jacobi & Higham 2010b). In Wales, evidence for people of this date can be found at Paviland Cave, Gower, Swansea; Worm’s Head Cave, Gower, Swansea; Hoyle’s Mouth Cave, Tenby, Pembrokeshire; Nanna’s Cave, Caldey Island, Pembrokeshire; Cathole Cave, Gower, Swansea; and Kendrick’s Cave, Llandudno, Conwy. Few of these caves have been subject to full study and dating; most of the evidence available comes from the stone tools found during excavations at the sites. Final Paleolithic sites are characterized by a technology dominated by the presence of penknife points, a tool not seen among the assemblage at Gough’s Cave. The dating of sites with penknife points can now be attributed to a time between 11,800 and 10,800 BP (R.M. Jacobi pers. comm. 2005). Caves, including Priory Farm Cave, Pembroke, Pembrokeshire (Fig. 6), and Nanna’s Cave and Potters Cave, Caldey Island, Pembrokeshire, all have these distinctive tools among their assemblages. In Wales, the coldest part of the Younger Dryas started around 11,600 BP and lasted until c. 10,200 or 10,000 BP based on evidence for bare, stony ground from pollen cores taken at Llyn Gwernan, Ceredigion (J.J. Lowe & S. Lowe 2001: 147-8). During this period, the winter sea-ice margin lays just south of Strumble Head, Pembrokeshire. While much of the precipitation fell as snow, there would not have been a good snow cover on the ground because of the effect of very strong winds and the sparseness of the vegetation which prevented such cover developing (Isarin et al. 1998: 451). A consequence of this cold stadial was that people left Wales, only returning once the climate improved sufficiently to sustain life once again. Cross-References ▶ Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Paviland Cave ▶ Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Pontnewydd Cave References ALDHOUSE-GREEN, S. 2000. Paviland Cave and the ‘Red Lady’. Bristol: Western Academic Specialist Press. ALDHOUSE-GREEN, S., R. PETERSON & E.A. WALKER. (ed.) 2012. Neanderthals in Wales: Pontnewydd and the Elwy Valley Caves. Oxford: Oxbow. ALDHOUSE-GREEN, S., K. SCOTT, H. SCHWARCZ, R. GRÜN, R. HOUSLEY, A. RAE, R. BEVINS & M. REDKNAP. 1995. Coygan Cave, Laugharne, South Wales, a Mousterian site and hyaena den: a report on the University of P P 5772 Cambridge excavations. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 61: 37-79. GARROD, D.A.E. 1926. The Upper Palaeolithic Age in Britain. Oxford: The Clarendon Press. GREEN, H.S. 1981. A Palaeolithic flint handaxe from Rhossili, Gower. Bulletin of the Board of Celtic Studies 29: 337-9. - 1984. Pontnewydd Cave, a Lower Palaeolithic hominid site in Wales, the first report. Cardiff: National Museum of Wales. - 1989. Some recent archaeological and faunal discoveries from the Severn Estuary Levels. Bulletin of the Board of Celtic Studies 36: 187-99. GREEN, S. & E. WALKER. 1991. Ice Age hunters: Neanderthals and early modern hunters in Wales. Cardiff: National Museum of Wales. ISARIN, R.F.B., H. RENSSEN & J. VANDENBERGHE. 1998. The impact of the North Atlantic Ocean on the Younger Dryas climate in northwestern and central Europe. Journal of Quaternary Science 13: 447-53. JACOBI, R.M. & T.F.G. HIGHAM. 2008. The “Red Lady” ages gracefully: new ultrafiltration AMS determinations from Paviland. Journal of Human Evolution 55: 898-907. - 2010a. The British Earlier Upper Palaeolithic: settlement and chronology, in N.M. Ashton, S.G. Lewis & C.B. Stringer (ed.) The ancient occupation of Britain: 181-222. Amsterdam: Elsevier. - 2010b. The later Upper Palaeolithic recolonisation of Britain: new results from AMS radiocarbon dating, in N.M. Ashton, S.G. Lewis & C.B. Stringer (ed.) The ancient occupation of Britain: 223-47. Amsterdam: Elsevier. LOWE, J.J. & S. LOWE. 2001. Llyn Gwernan, in M.J.C. Walker & D. McCarroll (ed.) The Quaternary of West Wales: field guide: 132-52. London: Quaternary Research Association. WHITE, M.J. & R.M. JACOBI. 2002. Two sides to every story: bout coupé handaxes revisited. Oxford Journal of Archaeology 21: 109-33. Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Paviland Cave Elizabeth A. Walker Department of Archaeology & Numismatics, Amgueddfa Cymru – National Museum Wales, Cardiff, UK Introduction Paviland Cave (also known as Goat’s Hole), Gower, Swansea, Wales, is a cave site with Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Paviland Cave a long history of occupation both before the last Glacial maximum and again after it. The cave is famous for the excavation by William Buckland in 1823 of the skeleton of a young adult male with associated grave goods. Definition Paviland Cave lies on the southern coast of Gower in South Wales. The cave has been extensively excavated many times since the first discovery of finds within it in 1822. The most recent excavations took place there in 1996. The cave has become well known for the discovery of the skeleton known as the “Red Lady” of Paviland Cave which has been the focus of interest in the site since its discovery over 200 years ago. Now dated to c. 29,000 BP, the “Red Lady” can claim to be one of the oldest burials of an evolutionary modern human anywhere to have been associated with manufactured grave goods. Key Issues Excavations first took place in Paviland Cave in 1822 when two Roman coins and what were recorded as elephant bones were discovered in the cave (Fig. 1). Early in January 1823, Professor William Buckland visited the cave in the company of Miss Talbot and John Traherne. They undertook a day digging in the cave and the following day were joined by Lewis Weston Dillwyn of Swansea, during which time they recovered the remains of a partial skeleton which they initially took to be a customs man, thought to have been overcome by smugglers on the Gower coast. On February 15, 1823, Buckland announced the findings in a public lecture given in the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford. Later the same day Buckland wrote to Lady Mary Cole, the landowner, “the man whom we voted an exciseman, turns out to be a woman, whose history would afford ample matter for a Romance to be entitled the Red Woman or the Witch of Paviland – for some such personage she must have been” (letter from William Buckland to Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Paviland Cave Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Paviland Cave, Fig. 1 Paviland Cave, Gower, Swansea, Wales. # National Museum of Wales Lady Mary Cole dated 15th February 1823 in the collection of the Department of Geology, National Museum of Wales NMW 84.20G. D167; North 1942: 108). The interpretation offered by Buckland was that this was the burial of a woman who had lived in the cave during Roman times and was associated with the camp on the hill above the cave (now known to be an Iron Age promontory fort). The grave goods included ivory bracelets, ivory rods, and perforated shells. The skeleton was also stained red with ocher, all of which led Buckland to infer that the skeleton was that of a female, a woman of loose morals. Buckland illustrated his description of his discoveries in the cave with a reconstruction of what the site might have been like before digging commenced within it (Fig. 2; Buckland 1823). 5773 P Since the discovery, the skeleton, now preserved in the collections of the Oxford University Museum of Natural History, has been subject to regular scrutiny and study, including direct dating on four occasions. The first date obtained by Kenneth Oakley in 1968 was of 18,460  340 BP (BM-374; Powell 2000: 272) and caused some consternation, as it falls during the period when the ice would have been at its maximum during the last Glacial. Further dating was undertaken in 1989 on powder remaining from Oakley’s date. This resulted in the more believable date of 26,350  550 BP (OxA-1815; Powell 2000: 272). More recently, dates have been obtained on a rib fragment of 28,870  180 BP and 28,400  320 BP (OxA-412; OxA-16502) and on a scapula fragment 29,490  210 BP and 28,820  340 BP (OxA-16413; OxA-16503) (Jacobi & Higham 2008: 904, Table 8). This new dating places the skeleton in the early Gravettian at a time that correlates with a period of interstadial warmth, and as a burial, it is currently the oldest to be associated with manufactured grave goods (Jacobi & Higham 2010: 206). Study of the skeleton by Trinkaus and Holliday (2000) concluded that the remains are that of a young adult male, aged in his midtwenties at death. He was average in body size and generally relatively gracile for an early upper Paleolithic human (Fig. 3). The skeletal evidence shows no evidence for the cause of his death and his bones were generally very healthy. Stable isotope analysis of the “Red Lady” indicates a diet that had some marine content of around 10 %. The suggestion is that the individual was highly mobile and that marine foods were exploited opportunistically during his annual movement around the landscape, as opposed to indicating seasonal mobility between inland and coastal zones (Richards 2000). The grave goods found and associated with the “Red Lady” burial include perforated shell beads of flat winkle, Littorina littoralis, of which Buckland recorded finding about “two handfuls” close to the part of the thigh bone where the pocket is usually worn. These may have been worn as beads or sewn onto clothing. The shells would have been available along the P P 5774 Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Paviland Cave Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Paviland Cave, Fig. 2 William Buckland’s 1823 reconstruction of the excavation of the “Red Lady.” # National Museum of Wales contemporary coastline (Aldhouse-Green 2000: 115). Ivory rods and bracelets were also found in the burial. Whether the rods were unused blanks for beads or, as Aldhouse-Green favors, as fragments of magical wands remains unclear. The bracelets are small in size and have been reinterpreted as possible talismans that were hung from clothing rather than for wearing on the wrist (Jacobi & Higham 2010: 204). The red staining of the bones, which has given the “Red Lady” his sobriquet, has been demonstrated to come from ocher, originating from locally obtained hematite that was deliberately emplaced within the grave. How the ocher came to be present remains unclear. The more probable of the theories include the possibilities that it was associated with preservation treatment of clothing or that it was sprinkled over the body in the grave. Parallels for the use of ocher in rich Gravettian burials can be found elsewhere in Europe and so this is not uncommon (AldhouseGreen 2000: 239). Paviland Cave, while often best known for the remains of the “Red Lady,” also contained archaeological evidence of other occupations both within the pre- and post-last Glacial periods. Evidence for this comes mainly from the lithic artifacts, which have been subject to study by a number of researchers in recent years. The lithic finds were mainly recovered from excavations which took place in the cave in 1912 by Professor William Sollas. His excavations recovered over 4,000 lithic artifacts which today are split between the collections of the National Museum of Wales and the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford (Swainston & Brookes 2000: 31). Analysis of these collections has resulted in various interpretations. The most recent interpretation by Jacobi and Higham (2010: 215-16) suggests that there was a possible very late Neanderthal presence at the site evidenced by nine leaf points in the assemblage (Swainston 2000: 100). Dating at Paviland is hampered by the palimpsest nature of the assemblage, so dating of specific events is dependent on parallels drawn from other UK sites. For blade leaf points, Jacobi and Higham have drawn on the date from Badger Hole, Wookey Hole, Somerset, where a fragment of horse dentary bone, associated with a leaf point, provides a date of 36,000  450 BP (OxA-11963; Jacobi & Higham 2010: 188). Other dates from hyena dentary fragments from Bench Quarry Tunnel, Brixham, Devon, and from Pin Hole, Creswell Crags, Derbyshire, are slightly older. An evolved Aurignacian presence is indicated by a number of key tool forms in the assemblage Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Paviland Cave Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Paviland Cave, Fig. 3 A cast of the “Red Lady” skeleton displayed in the National Museum Cardiff. # National Museum of Wales including burin busqués and what is being termed the “Paviland burin” (Dinnis 2009). Dating of the Aurignacian occupation event is by association with dating for worked antler/bone points from Uphill Quarry, North Somerset; hyena den, Wookey Hole, Somerset; and Pin Hole, Creswell Crags, Derbyshire, all of which fall around 32,000 radiocarbon years BP (Jacobi & Higham 2010: 195). The burial of the “Red Lady” at around 29,000 radiocarbon years BP is a single event that took place in the very early Gravettian period. This was followed by a slightly later use demonstrated by the presence of tanged blades the dating of which may be around 28,000 radiocarbon years BP, based on parallels from the well-dated site of Maisières-Canal, Belgium (Swainston 2000: 108; Jacobi & Higham 2010: 210). A post-last Glacial lithic assemblage 5775 P includes diagnostic tool forms such as backed blades, Cheddar points, a Creswell point, and a penknife point (Swainston 2000: 108-9). These might suggest a use of the site between around 12,600 BP and 11,600 BP. As well as the lithic artifacts, many large mammal bones were recovered during the excavations at the cave. These are also difficult to date with any certainty other than by direct dating through AMS radiocarbon techniques. The Aldhouse-Green report resulted in some 46 dates being generated on species including Cervus elaphus, Ursus arctos, Crocuta crocuta, Rangifer tarandus, Mammuthus primigenius, Canis lupus, Equus ferus, Coelodonta antiquitatis, Bison priscus, and Megaloceros giganteus (Pettitt 2000: 64). Several of these dates have now been questioned, following the introduction of ultrafiltration for dating samples, so while it is possible to say with certainty that bones of these species have been found within the deposits of Paviland Cave, their dating is considered to be less accurate than was the case at the time of their publication in 2000 (Jacobi & Higham 2010: 172). Paviland Cave is therefore demonstrated to be one of the most significant sites of Paleolithic age in Wales. It has the longest recorded sequence of events, which can be elucidated from the lithic and dating records. The discovery of what remains the only formal burial of Gravettian age from the UK also adds to the importance of the discoveries made at this site. Cross-References ▶ Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Overview References ALDHOUSE-GREEN, S. 2000. Paviland Cave and the ‘Red Lady’. Bristol: Western Academic Specialist Press. BUCKLAND, W. 1823. Reliquiae Diluvianae. London: John Murray. DINNIS, R. 2009. On the technology of Late Aurignacian burin and scraper production, and the importance of the Paviland lithic assemblage and the Paviland burin. Lithics 29: 18-35. P P 5776 JACOBI, R.M. & T.F.G. HIGHAM. 2008. The “Red Lady” ages gracefully: new ultrafiltration AMS determinations from Paviland. Journal of Human Evolution 55: 898-907. - 2010. The British earlier Upper Palaeolithic: settlement and chronology, in N.M. Ashton, S.G. Lewis & C.B. Stringer (ed.) The ancient occupation of Britain: 181222. Amsterdam: Elsevier. NORTH, F.J. 1942. Paviland Cave, the ‘Red Lady, the Deluge and William Buckland. Annals of Science 5: 91-128. PETTITT, P.B. 2000. The Paviland radiocarbon dating programme: reconstructing the chronology of faunal communities, carnivore activity and human occupation, in S. Aldhouse-Green (ed.) Paviland Cave and the ‘Red Lady’: 63-71. Bristol: Western Academic Specialist Press. RICHARDS, M.P. 2000. Human and faunal stable isotope analysis from Goat’s Hole and Foxhole Caves, Gower, in S. Aldhouse-Green (ed.) Paviland Cave and the ‘Red Lady’: 71-5. Bristol: Western Academic Specialist Press. SWAINSTON, S. 2000. The lithic artefacts from Paviland, in S. Aldhouse-Green (ed.) Paviland Cave and the ‘Red Lady’: 95-113. Bristol: Western Academic Specialist Press. SWAINSTON, S. & A. BROOKES. 2000. Paviland Cave and the ‘Red Lady’: the history of collection and investigation, in S. Aldhouse-Green (ed.) Paviland Cave and the ‘Red Lady’: 19-46. Bristol: Western Academic Specialist Press. SYKES, B.C. 2000. Report on DNA recovery from the Red Lady of Paviland, in S. Aldhouse-Green (ed.) Paviland Cave and the ‘Red Lady’: 75-7. Bristol: Western Academic Specialist Press. TRINKAUS, E. & T.W. HOLLIDAY. 2000. The human remains from Paviland Cave, in S. Aldhouse-Green (ed.) Paviland Cave and the ‘Red Lady’: 141-204. Bristol: Western Academic Specialist Press. Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Pontnewydd Cave Elizabeth A. Walker Department of Archaeology & Numismatics, Amgueddfa Cymru – National Museum Wales, Cardiff, UK Introduction Pontnewydd Cave, Denbighshire, Wales, contains a unique early Neanderthal site on the Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Pontnewydd Cave northwesternmost edge of the known Paleolithic world. This cave site is unusual having survived in an area that has experienced a series of glaciations since early hominins made use of the cave 225,000 years ago. As such it makes a significant addition to the limited number of fossil hominin remains so far discovered in the United Kingdom. Definition Evolutionary early Neanderthal fossils, associated stone tools, and a contemporary faunal assemblage have all been excavated from deposits within Pontnewydd Cave. Dating back to around 225,000 BP during marine isotope stage 7 (MIS 7), the deposits are not in situ but washed into the cave during debris or mudflows. Key Issues Pontnewydd Cave in the Elwy Valley in Denbighshire, northeast Wales, provides evidence for the earliest hominin occupation of Wales. The cave was first mentioned by Reverend Edward Stanley in 1832 who described visiting it when the road was being constructed that today runs downhill from Cefn Meiriadog to Bont Newydd in the valley bottom (Stanley 1832: 42). Stanley described the cave as having great potential, as it was entirely blocked up with soil which might contain important new organic remains. William Boyd Dawkins, Mrs. Williams Wynn, and the Reverend D. R. Thomas, Vicar of Cefn, are the first people recorded to have investigated Pontnewydd Cave at a date sometime prior to 1874. The exact dates and the extent of their excavations are not recorded, but it seems these were extensive as Thomas McKenny Hughes and the Reverend Thomas, who published their own investigations of the cave in 1874, noted that the deposits had already been removed from the first 25 yards into the cave from the entrance (Hughes & Thomas 1874: 388). McKenny Hughes’ work revealed a series of crude stone and flint tools, a faunal assemblage which he recorded as including Hyaena spelaea, Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Pontnewydd Cave Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Pontnewydd Cave, Fig. 1 Pontnewydd Cave, Denbighshire, Wales (# National Museum of Wales) Ursus spelaeus, Ursus ferox, Equus caballus, Rhinoceros hemitoechus, Cervus elaphus, Capreolus capreolus, Canis lupus, Canis vulpes, Meles taxus, and Homo sapiens. The human tooth was sent to George Busk for identification, and it was he who recognized it as being larger than any human tooth he had previously seen (ibid: 390). Today, this tooth is currently unlocated, although the stone tools survive in the collection of the Sedgwick Museum of Geology in Cambridge, UK. The cave was largely left untouched until 1940 when it was requisitioned for wartime use as a store for land mines and depth charges, during which time the floor was leveled and covered with gravel over which duckboards were placed. Spoil from this work was placed outside the cave entrance, and the entrance was faced with limestone blocks to camouflage it against possible enemy attack (Fig. 1; Green 1984: 19). In 1978, Stephen Aldhouse-Green, then working for the National Museum of Wales, commenced a research project at Pontnewydd Cave that was to last until 1995 involving some fourteen seasons of excavation. An interim report was published in 1984 (Green 1984), and a final monograph will be published during 2012 (Aldhouse-Green et al. 2012). This work has led 5777 P to the discovery of some significant new observations at this cave. The stratigraphic sequence within the cave comprises a lower sands and gravel deposit derived from glacial sediments and brought into the cave in debris flow events. This is overlain by an upper sands and gravel deposit of the same origin. An intermediate complex suggests a temperate stage when soils provided organic matter and stalagmite growth could take place. These sediments contain limestone debris as well as animal bones, some hominin fossils, and stone tools. The overlying lower breccia was formed by a major debris flow event entering the cave which caused disruption to underlying deposits and contained a higher limestone component from the vicinity of the cave. Overlying this was a stalagmite floor with water-lain silt beds formed by water pooling within the cave. A further debris flow event emplaced the upper breccia during MIS 3. This event channeled the lower breccia and intervening deposits reworking them into this deposit. A red cave earth and upper clays and sands overlie the upper breccia, neither containing any archaeological material (Fig. 2). In 1987, a second entrance was uncovered on the hillside outside the cave. This was excavated in order to record the stratigraphic sequence and was found to be approximately 5 m deep. The sequence of deposits has been correlated with those excavated from within the cave and the lower contexts also generated a similar suite of stone tools, animal bones, and one hominin tooth. One of the first discoveries to be made during recent excavations at the cave in 1980 was a hominin tooth, PN1, a left upper second molar which displays characteristic features of taurodontism (an enlarged pulp cavity and coalesced roots) (Fig. 3). Study of this tooth led to the assertion that Pontnewydd Cave had been used by early Neanderthals (Green 1981). Further hominin finds discovered at the cave have resulted in a total of 16 teeth and 1 tooth fragment confirmed as early Neanderthal in origin (a further metapodial PN14, vertebra PN3, mandible PN2, and a lower right second molar PN8 are now believed to be of Holocene date, due to direct dating, or originating from disturbed contexts P P 5778 Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Pontnewydd Cave, Fig. 2 The main section through the cave deposits at Pontnewydd Cave (# National Museum of Wales) Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Pontnewydd Cave H 99 I 100 Roof of 101 STALAGMITE FLOOR Deposit C UPPER CLAYS AND SANDS 101 J 102 K PONTNEWYDD CAVE 1980–81 EAST PASSAGE SECTION C - D ca ve 101 limestone weathered limestone non-limestone limit of excavation removed Cavers’ trench 100 UPPER BRECCIA D SILT LOWER BRECCIA BUFF INTERMEDIATE 99 BUFF INTERMEDIATE 99 ORANGE INTERMEDIATE H 100 Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Pontnewydd Cave, Fig. 3 Molar PN1 displaying features of taurodontism (# National Museum of Wales) (Aldhouse-Green et al. 1996)). Recent study of the Neanderthal fossil hominins suggests that they represent a minimum of five individuals comprising an 8.5-year-old male, a 9-year-old I 101 J 102 K female, an 11–11.5-year-old male, a young adult male (14–16 years), and a mature adult male. The maximum possible number of individuals represented is 16: 9 juveniles/adolescents and 7 adults. The teeth are predominantly single teeth and mostly have crowns; although a few teeth have roots, many do not. Two teeth are still in position in a right maxillary fragment. These are the remains of the 9-year-old female. What is particularly interesting about this individual is that the maxilla contains a heavily worn upper fourth deciduous premolar and a lightly worn upper first molar (Fig. 4). Comparisons have been made with other well-excavated and well-studied early Neanderthal populations from elsewhere in Europe. The sites of Krapina, Croatia, and the Sima de los Huesos (SH) site at Atapuerca, Spain, have some of the closest parallels to the Pontnewydd Cave teeth. Detailed study has been undertaken of the many different dental traits and their comparisons across these and other assemblages of similar and different ages in work done by Compton and Stringer (2012). As well as hominin fossils, the excavations at Pontnewydd Cave generated a substantial stone tool assemblage. Some 1,284 stone tools were recovered and study of the character and taphonomy of the artifact assemblage suggests that the main hominin occupation took place just outside the modern cave system. The raw materials used Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Pontnewydd Cave 5779 P Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Pontnewydd Cave, Fig. 4 PN4, the maxilla fragment of a child aged approximately 9 years old. The worn deciduous premolar sits alongside a permanent first molar (# National Museum of Wales) to make the tools are predominantly hard volcanic rocks with just a small number of flint. The dominant raw materials are ignimbrite and rhyolite as well as a variety of volcanic tuffs. The resulting stone tools are consequently very crude in appearance, the nonconchoidal fracturing of such rocks resulting in laminar fractures and irregular forms. The majority of the raw materials used were available locally and need not have been transported far. Many different debris flow movements have moved artifacts from their original sites of deposition. The assemblage is technologically very consistent and may represent a single extended phase of occupation, or possibly a palimpsest of short occupations. Tool forms include Acheulian bifaces as well as a Levallois technology of prepared cores, flakes, and blades. Retouched tools include scrapers, knives, and denticulates (Fig. 5). There is no human occupation associated with the MIS 3 fauna in the upper breccia debris flow event. The faunal assemblage from Pontnewydd Cave has been studied by Andrew Currant of the Natural History Museum, London. The species list for the MIS 7 contexts comprises Canis lupus, Ursus sp., Panthera pardus, Panthera leo, Equus sp., Stephanorhinus kirchbergensis, Stephanorhinus hemitoechus, Cervus elaphus, Castor fiber, Arvicola cantiana, Arvicola sp., Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Pontnewydd Cave, Fig. 5 Stone tools discovered during excavations at Pontnewydd Cave (# National Museum of Wales) Microtus gregalis, and birds. The MIS 3 context species list comprises: Canis lupus, Vulpes vulpes, Ursus arctos, Equus ferus, Rangifer tarandus, Ovibos moschatus, Dicrostonyx torquatus, and Lepus timidus. The assemblage from the intermediate complex and the lower breccia are deemed to be of MIS 7 age with a later MIS 3 faunal accumulation from the upper breccia. The final report, published in 2012, draws together the information gleaned by these studies and puts them into full context. Cross-References ▶ Paleolithic Archaeology of Wales: Overview References ALDHOUSE-GREEN, S., R. PETERSON & E.A. WALKER. (ed.) 2012. Neanderthals in Wales: Pontnewydd and the Elwy Valley Caves. Oxford: Oxbow. ALDHOUSE-GREEN, S., P. PETTITT & C. STRINGER. 1996. Holocene humans at Pontnewydd and Cae Gronw Caves. Antiquity 70: 444–7. P P 5780 COMPTON, T. & C. STRINGER. 2012. The human remains, in S. Aldhouse-Green, R. Peterson & E.A. Walker (ed.) Neanderthals in Wales: Pontnewydd and the Elwy Valley Caves: 118–230. Oxford: Oxbow. GREEN, H.S. 1981. The first Welshman: excavations at Pontnewydd. Antiquity 55: 184–95. - 1984. Pontnewydd Cave, a Lower Palaeolithic hominid site in Wales, the first report. Cardiff: National Museum of Wales. HUGHES, T.M. & D.R. THOMAS. 1874. On the occurrence of felstone implements of the Le Moustier type in Pontnewydd Cave, near Cefn, St Asaph. Journal of the Anthropological Institute 3: 387–90. STANLEY, E. 1832. Memoir on a cave at Cefn in Denbighshire. Edinburgh New Philosophical Journal 14: 40–53. Paleonutrition and Bioarchaeology: Ethical Perspectives Isabelle Ribot Département d’Anthropologie, Université de Montréal, Montréal, QC, Canada Introduction The development of bioarchaeology through the study of ancient populations at large and their contextual data in particular has contributed to the emergence of many subdisciplines, for example, paleonutrition, paleopathology, paleoparasitology, paleoepidemiology, and palaeogenetics. However, key issues have often emerged from paleonutrition, as this area covers both nutrition (nutrients provided by food) and diet (food consumed by humans). These two themes are essential for bioarchaeologists who explore the evolution of human societies. When we ask about what people ate in the past, it is a way of approaching the notion of identity of a population and its adaptation to an environment through the adoption of an economic strategy. Eating behaviors (food consumption and cooking practices) are cultural characteristics that may reflect a biological identity; however, this is not always so, because culture is not simply equal to biology. Thus, paleonutritional reconstructions contribute indirectly to stimulate current ethical debates in bioarchaeology, especially when Paleonutrition and Bioarchaeology: Ethical Perspectives analyzing human remains that are ancestors to descendant communities today. Definition As a participant to a holistic and scientific approach based on the study of sites, bioarchaeology integrates various cultural (history, archaeology) and biological data (demography, health, diet, origins). Two notions are central to this approach which originates from the New Archaeology and Anthropology: that of “population” in evolutionary terms but also that of “society.” The goal is thus to attempt to reproduce both biological but also social history (way of life in the past) for a past group and to explore their relationship with their environment (Larsen 1999). The subdiscipline of paleonutrition, although focusing on past eating behaviors and their evolution through time, concerns many other aspects, including the study of ancient diseases and mortality issues (Steckel & Rose 2002). Indeed, the specific sanitary and epidemiological conditions of a group can be explained by many factors (genetic and environment) and, moreover, are not necessarily directly linked to the diet consumed. After the development of archaeological sciences and of paleoenvironmental studies, bioarchaeology and consequently paleonutrition now rely on a wide range of data, from soil to ecofacts, artifacts, and bones. Key Issues Firstly, major advances in paleonutrional studies are largely dependent on the type of data analyzed. Previously, these studies were mainly based on the analysis of artifacts, fauna, and plants, in order to explore diet and nutrition. Currently, all of the results already obtained have been clarified, thanks to the analysis of stable isotopes (on elements such as carbon and nitrogen) (Katzenberg 2008). Chemical analyses performed on plant and animal remains provide us with direct information on the type of food consumed during life. However, there are well-known Paleonutrition and Bioarchaeology: Ethical Perspectives biases in relation to various factors: climate, diagenesis, variable remodeling of the bone, and the influence of food on the marine carbon isotopic signatures. Although this approach cannot reveal the nature and quantity of nutritional intake as precisely as studies on living populations, it may suggest the main food groups consumed in the past and their position in the food chain. The analysis of stable isotopes of carbon and, in particular, the different photosynthetic modes (C4 et C3) observed in wild and domesticated plants allows us to identify the emergence of agriculture and imported foods in different regions of the world (corn in the Americas, millet in Europe, and sorghum in Africa). The nitrogen isotopes were also very useful to distinguish between marine and terrestrial resources in food intake. Thus, they have helped to develop interpretations of differential access to protein-rich resources and the socioeconomic stratification within a society. Consequently, paleonutritional studies that use isotopic signatures help us to better understand the concept of identity or cultural affiliation and its evolution through time. They differ from forensic anthropology, which emphasizes the biological identity of an individual. Their approach is closely related to social archaeology, where the social dimension (position of the individual within society) is predominant. Within the goal to better understand the notion of past identity, recent research tends to combine even more methods and various data (historical records, archaeology, funerary archaeology, diet, mobility). Certain regions in the world, such as South Africa, whose peoples are differentiated by a long, diverse, and complex history, are a source of inspiration for bioarchaeological research (Cox et al. 2001; Ribot et al. 2010). With the development of agriculture, newcomers settled in areas and displaced others who were already there or they came into conflict with them. All this led to cultural and biological changes, such phenomena having occurred not necessarily in a continuous fashion in time and space. To understand these events, food reconstructions combined with other data (material culture, morphology, ancient DNA) can help us identify these past populations “in transition,” 5781 P exposed to various gene flows. In the case of communities of the Iron Age (AF) in KwaZuluNatal (RAS), data on diet and morphology showed no significant change over time (Ribot et al. 2010). Thus, the hypothesis has been proposed, of a gradual assimilation of huntergatherers ancestral to the Khoesan, by Bantu farmers. However, elsewhere, on more recent sites associated to the period of slavery (Americas, the Caribbean, Africa), the question of identity in the broadest sense becomes a more complex concept difficult to define. Indeed, various groups of people, individuals from forced diasporas, or slaves were moved from various regions and then intermixed with local groups, sharing with them cultural and/or biological aspects (traditions, culinary practices, languages, genes) (Larsen 1999; Cox et al. 2001). In exploring the history of past populations as well as their identity, does paleonutrition contribute to the promotion of descendant communities as well as a recognition of their identity? The answer is positive, as a cultural affiliation can be suggested from what people eat, and thus contributes finer detail to other sources of data based on biological affiliation criteria (ancient DNA, morphology). Museums all around the world have accumulated thousands of ancestral skulls from diverse descendant communities (Native Americans, Australian Aborigines, Khoesan South Africans), often without any ethical concern. These collections were often acquired before the period of independence, while the European colonial powers dominated the world. The thinking at that time focused on the classification and definition of race. Following these events, current communities required spiritual repair and appropriate reburial of their ancestors. In the USA, the NAGPRA (“Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act”) was established in 1990, in order to return human remains to descendant communities (Larsen 1999). Following this, a systematic process of recognition of cultural and biological identity of human remains of Native Americans has been set up and is ongoing even now in the USA, its impact even being carried out in Canada. As a result of NAGPRA P P 5782 legislation, bioarchaeological studies including paleonutritional analyses have multiplied exponentially, even though the scientific value of the collections are still debated and threatened by reburial (Williamson & Pfeiffer 2003). Questions of this type are also raised in South Africa in this post-apartheid era. Ethical guidelines for the management of human remains are not yet totally in place, and access to osteological collections, ancestral to current descendant communities, is more restricted than ever before (Sealy 2003). The historic graves of slaves are sites which have recently raised a number of ethical questions, given that the descendants are often present in contemporary societies. This is, for example, the case in Cape Town, where the awareness of the collective heritage is in a process of transformation (Shepherd 2007). Debates have emerged around the complex identity of these ancient slave populations, which became more and more mixed over time. The study by Cox et al. (2001) on the skeletons found at Cobern Street, in particular, was able to reveal aspects of the life trajectory of each individual, because it combines isotopic analysis with diverse data (general history, archaeology funeral, dental changes). The level of carbon and nitrogen obtained from bones and teeth has enabled the identification of diverse groups within the cemetery, such as foreigners (consumption of C4 plants during childhood) and natives (plants C3). These ideas and approaches used by Cox et al. (2001) have provided a model for many other isotopic studies on slave cemeteries (Schroeder et al. 2009). Future Directions Recent paleonutritional studies involving food reconstructions, combined with several other approaches and advances in the area of isotopic studies, are very useful tools for researching the identity of a group. By analyzing the diet, diverse knowledge can be acquired, notably on the environment (plants, wildlife) and the period under study (economics, resource use, cultural practices). It thus brings us in a more subtle and critical way toward a better understanding of the Paleonutrition and Bioarchaeology: Ethical Perspectives human identity of the past and, in particular, for the groups which have been neglected throughout the past and poorly documented in historical archives. However, when human remains are discovered, the major difficulty is around ethical questions (not only in relation to reburial), which are discussed between scientists and indigenous communities. Indeed, these two groups often have in mind very different interests and priorities concerning human remains. The scientists focus on scientific merit. By contrast, some indigenous groups today lean more on the spiritual value and the memory of their ancestors or some are even very concerned about the profanation of the remains of their ancestors. These questions are essential for our postcolonial, post-apartheid societies, and they have lead to a renaissance in the identity of indigenous populations. This process began in South Africa after 1994 (Shepherd 2007) and can be considered as a model for other countries, in particular North America, as it forces us to rethink the concepts and methods used in our very own different disciplines! For the future, it nevertheless remains to develop the inclusion of indigenous people in bioarchaeological projects, so that the acquisition of scientific knowledge can benefit these communities directly. Cross-References ▶ American Anthropological Association (AAA) and Ethics ▶ Ancestry Assessment ▶ Bioarchaeology: Definition ▶ Bioarchaeology, Human Osteology, and Forensic Anthropology: Definitions and Developments ▶ Biological Distance in Bioarchaeology and Human Osteology ▶ Bone Chemistry and Ancient Diet ▶ Canada: Cultural Heritage Management and First Nations ▶ DNA and Skeletal Analysis in Bioarchaeology and Human Osteology ▶ Ethnic Identity and Archaeology Palmer, Marilyn ▶ Foraging to Farming Transition: Global Health Impacts, Trends, and Variation ▶ Heritage Museums and the Public ▶ Human Migration: Bioarchaeological Approaches ▶ Human Remains in Museums ▶ Human Skeletal Remains: Identification of Individuals ▶ Isotope Geochemistry in Archaeology ▶ Isotopic Studies of Foragers’ Diet: Environmental Archaeological Approaches ▶ Repatriation Acts: NAGPRA Repatriation in Tribal Practice ▶ Repatriation of Cultural Property in the United States: A Case Study in NAGPRA (USA) ▶ South Africa: Heritage Management References COX, G., J. SEALY, C. SCHRIRE & A.G. MORRIS. 2001. Stable carbon and nitrogen isotopic analyses of the underclass at the colonial Cape of Good Hope in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. World Archaeology 33(1): 73-97. KATZENBERG, A. 2008. Stable isotope analysis: a tool for studying past diet, demography, and life history, in M.A. Katzenberg & S.R. Saunders (ed.) Biological anthropology of the human skeleton: 413-41. New Jersey: Wiley-Liss. LARSEN, C.S. 1999. Bioarchaeology. Interpreting behavior from the human skeleton. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. RIBOT, I., A.G. MORRIS, J.C. SEALY & T. MAGGS. 2010. Population history and economic change in the last 2000 years in KwaZulu-Natal, RSA. Southern African Humanities 22: 89-112. SCHROEDER, H., T.C. O’CONNELL, J.A. EVANS, K.A. SHULER & R.E.M. HEDGES. 2009. Trans-Atlantic slavery: isotopic evidence for forced Migration to Barbados. American Journal of Physical Anthropology 139: 547-57. SEALY, J. 2003. Managing collections of human remains in South African museums and universities: ethical policy-making and scientific value. South African Journal of Science 99: 238-39. SHEPHERD, N. 2007. Archaeology dreaming Post-apartheid urban imaginaries and the bones of the Prestwich Street dead. Journal of Social Archaeology 7(1): 3-28. STECKEL, R.H. & J.C. ROSE. 2002. The backbone of history: health and nutrition in the western hemisphere. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. WILLIAMSON, R.F. & S. PFEIFFER. 2003. Bones of the ancestors: the archaeology and osteobiography of the Moatfield Ossuary (Mercury series Archaeology Paper). Washington: University of Washington Press. 5783 P Palmer, Marilyn Audrey Horning Queen’s University Belfast, Belfast, Northern Ireland, UK Basic Biographical Information Marilyn Palmer is a British industrial archaeologist and educator and a fellow of the Society of Antiquaries of London. She received her undergraduate degree in modern history from St. Anne’s College Oxford in 1965 and a postgraduate certificate of education from Leicester University in 1966. She was awarded an Oxford master of arts degree in 1969. Professor Palmer began her professional career as a history teacher at Loughborough High School and then began lecturing in history at the Loughborough College of Education. Building upon her amateur interest in industrial archaeology, she enrolled in a 4-year part-time certificate in British archaeology program at Leicester University, which she completed in 1973. Between 1977 and 1988, Marilyn Palmer was employed in the History Department of Loughborough University, rising through ranks from lecturer to senior lecturer to head of department. In 1988, she took up a post as senior lecturer at Leicester University, dividing her time equally between the History and Archaeology departments. In 1998, she moved fully into the School of Archaeological Studies, and in 2000 she was promoted to professor of industrial archaeology. From 2000 to 2006, she served as head of the School of Archaeology and Ancient History at the University of Leicester. In 2005, she received an Award of Merit from the Society for Historical Archaeology, in recognition of her many contributions to the advancement of industrial archaeology. She retired in 2008 but remains very research active. Major Accomplishments Marilyn Palmer’s most significant achievement has been in leading the transformation of P P 5784 industrial archaeology from an amateur pursuit to a professional and academic discipline. She has spearheaded the integration of industrial archaeology into the broader discipline of historical archaeology, as exemplified by her founding role in the establishment of the Centre for Historical Archaeology at the University of Leicester in 2009. Her joint publications with the late Peter Neaverson (Palmer & Neaverson 1992, 1995, 1998, 2005) provided a needed methodological and theoretical dimension to the practice of industrial archaeology. Professor Palmer’s research has long stressed the importance of examining the social dimensions of industrial workplaces. To that end, she has produced landmark studies examining the experiences of textile workers in South West England (e.g., Palmer & Neaverson 2005). While strongly advocating industrial archaeology as an academic pursuit, Professor Palmer has always stressed the importance of the contributions made by amateur enthusiasts in both researching and conserving industrial heritage. Marilyn Palmer has been active in the Association for Industrial Archaeology (AIA) since its establishment in 1973, serving the organization twice as its chairperson, as joint editor for its journal Industrial Archaeology Review, and as honorary president. Through her AIA activities in particular, she brought together a diverse group of interested amateurs and scholars from a range of disciplines including history, archaeology, and engineering. She has also worked in an advisory capacity with the National Trust, English Heritage, and the Council for British Archaeology. She currently chairs the Buildings Archaeology Group for the Institute for Archaeologists, serves as a member of the National Trust Archaeology Panel, is vice-president and trustee for the Council for British Archaeology, and is on the English Heritage Industrial Archaeology Advisory Committee. Marilyn Palmer’s publications include both academic contributions and publications designed for the general reader. She has published on a range of industries, from lime production to iron manufacturing to lead and tin mining to the textile and hosiery industries. She has also been Palmer, Marilyn active in producing strategy documents as well as basic guides for interested readers. Her most influential work is Industrial Archaeology: Principles and Practices (1998), coauthored with Peter Neaverson. With David Gwyn, she coedited Understanding the Workplace: A Research Framework for Industrial Archaeology in Britain (Palmer and Gwyn 2006), a special issue of the Industrial Archaeology Review which strongly advocated taking a social approach in industrial archaeology. In so doing, it opened up new fields of enquiry and encouraged considerable discussion within and beyond the field of industrial archaeology (see Palmer 2008). Since retiring from the University of Leicester in 2008, she has been researching the range of technological innovations adopted by country house owners from the eighteenth to early twentieth centuries. Her project, the Country House Technology Project (http://www2.le.ac. uk/departments/archaeology/research/centre-forhistorical-archaeology/research-1/country-housetechnology), is funded by the Leverhulme Trust. Cross-References ▶ Archaeology and the Emergence of Fields: Historical and Classical ▶ Association for Industrial Archaeology (AIA) ▶ Avocational Archaeology ▶ Buildings Archaeology ▶ Council for British Archaeology (CBA) ▶ Industrial Archaeology ▶ Industrial Heritage in Archaeology References PALMER, M. 2008. Industrial archaeology: constructing a framework of reference, in E. Casella & J. Symonds (ed.) Industrial archaeology: new directions: 59-76. New York: Plenum. PALMER, M. & D. GWYN. (ed.) 2006. Understanding the workplace: a research framework for industrial archaeology in Britain (special issue Industrial Archaeology Review 27). Leeds: Maney. Palmyra, Archaeology of PALMER, M. & P. NEAVERSON. 1992. Industrial landscapes of the East Midlands. London: Phillimore. - 1998. Industrial archaeology: principles and practice. London: Routledge. - 2005. The textile industry of south-west England: a social archaeology. Stroud: Tempus. PALMER, M. & P. NEAVERSON. (ed.) 1995. Managing the industrial heritage (Leicester Archaeology Monographs 2). Leicester: Leicester University Press. Further Reading HORNING, A. & M. PALMER. (ed.) 2009. Crossing paths or sharing tracks? Future directions in the archaeological study of post-1550 Britain and Ireland (Society for Post-Medieval Archaeology Monograph Series 4). Woodbridge, Suffolk: Boydell and Brewer. PALMER, M., M. NEVELL & M. SISSONS. 2012 Industrial archaeology: a handbook. York: Council for British Archaeology Palmyra, Archaeology of Jørgen Christian Meyer Department of Archaeology, History, Cultural Studies and Religion, University of Bergen, Bergen, Norway Introduction and Definition In the first three centuries CE, Palmyra could be compared with the largest and most influential cities in the eastern part of the Roman Empire. It was a prosperous caravan city on the route between the Indian Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea. At the end of the third century, the legendary queen Zenobia controlled larger parts of the eastern empire, but after her fall the city was transformed to a military stronghold within a smaller area and surrounded by a new defensive wall (Fig. 1). From 1920 to about the 1970s, the main effort of the archaeological investigations was concentrated on the Roman period up to the end of the third century within the walls of the late Roman city. The eastern part of the great colonnaded street, the tetrapylon, the temples of Bel and Baal-Shamin, the theater, and the agora with annex were cleared down to the level of the 5785 P Roman period without any documentation of the later periods, and thereafter partly restored, together with the Diocletian’s camp and the temple of Allath in the western part of the city (Schmidt-Colinet 1995; Delplace & Feydy 2005). Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Research Center of Palmyra Since then there has been a growing awareness that the city of Palmyra covered a much larger area and that other periods need more attention. Recent investigations south of the later Roman city have revealed a large quarter with houses, an official building, and broad streets leading toward the temple of Bel (al-As‛ad & Schmidt-Colinet 2006-2007) (Fig. 2). The earliest layers can be dated to the Hellenistic period, and the area was abandoned at the end of the third century CE, when the settlement was confined within the new defensive walls to the north. In the northeastern part of the city, a market has been excavated (Delplace 2006-2007), and an amphitheatre has been identified from old aerial photographs, probably from the late Roman period (Hammad 2006-2007). Excavations west and northwest of the tetrapylon have brought to light remains of several public and private buildings from the first century CE to the early Islamic period (Gawlikowski 2007) (Fig. 3). Some of the buildings were destroyed in the middle of the second century CE when the great colonnaded street was constructed, which changed the city plan of central Palmyra. Other large houses, originally for the well-to-do, were constructed in the second century CE, but in the sixth and seventh century, they were modified into several dwellings of more rural character as centers of production, probably reflecting changes in the position of Palmyra in the Byzantine era and forth (Gawlikowski 2007). In the fifth and sixth century, three Christian churches were built north of the colonnaded street (Gawlikowski 2003; Majcherek 2009). Two of them, one with a baptistery, were still in use in the Umayyad period, but converted into P P 5786 Palmyra, Archaeology of Palmyra, Archaeology of, Fig. 1 Aerial view of Palmyra from the NW (Photo J.C. Meyer) habitation or a craft center in the ninth and tenth century, during the Abbasids. Another Christian basilica (Gawlikowski 1998) was probably constructed as late as the Umayyad period, and they all testify to the existence of two parallel Christian and Islamic communities in the early Islamic period. During the Umayyads the great colonnaded street was also transformed into a large market street consisting of a suq with small shops in the street between the columns (al-As‛ad & Ste˛pniowski 1989), and a small mosque was constructed within earlier Roman buildings (Genequand 2008) (Fig. 4). The city area was finally abandoned in the ninth century, when the population of Palmyra was confined to the precinct of the temple of Bel. The new investigations have emphasized that Palmyra had a long and very complex history. It stayed an important center also after the end of the third century, even if the habitation was confined to a smaller area within new defensive walls. It became a main garrison city of the eastern border, and later a bishopric. In the Umayyad period, when large “desert castles” or palaces were constructed in the region (Qasr al-Heir alSharqi and Qasr al-Heir al-Ghabi), it was still a thriving regional center with both a Christian and Islamic population (Genequand 2008). However, the finds from the pre-Roman period are still scanty. The Hellenistic finds are few, and virtually nothing is known about the oasis in the prehistoric periods and the Iron Age. Palmyra (Tadmor) is mentioned briefly in Bronze Ages sources, but the oasis does not contain any large tell which can be compared with Ebla, Mari, or Qatna. The location of Bronze Age Palmyra is supposed to be beneath the temple of Bel. Excavations here, however, have only revealed a few shards. New stratigraphical excavations are needed in the oasis, also to clarify the extension and character of the habitation in the Roman period before the end of the third century CE. How much of the city area, which covered an area of twenty square kilometers within the farthest walls, was occupied by gardens, open spaces, and buildings? This is of great importance for any attempt to estimate the population of the city, which has ranged from 30,000 to 200,000. The Hinterland of Palmyra Whereas the prehistoric finds from Palmyra itself are insignificant, the finds from the hinterland north and southeast of Palmyra testify to an intensive exploitation during the PPN (Pre-Pottery Neolithic: c. 9.500–5.500 BCE), when the climate was moister and the fauna and vegetation was different (Anfinset & Meyer 2010; Morandi Palmyra, Archaeology of 5787 P Palmyra, Archaeology of, Fig. 2 Map of the central part of Palmyra. A: Agora. B: Tetrapylon. C: The theater. D: Baal-Shamin. E: Diocletian’s camp. F: Temple of Allath. G: Market. H: Amphitheatre. I: Habitation quarter. J: Christian basilicas. K: Umayyad suq. L: Mosque P P 5788 Palmyra, Archaeology of Palmyra, Archaeology of, Fig. 3 Habitation quarter NW of tetrapylon (Photo Jørgen Christian Meyer) Palmyra, Archaeology of, Fig 4 Umayyad suq inside the great colonnaded street (Photo Jørgen Christian Meyer) Bonacossi et al. 2012). The sites are located close to former fresh water lakes and wadi outlets, and they seem to be related to seasonal hunting. In addition several kites, or large hunting traps, are a common phenomenon. Unfortunately their dating is still controversial, and some of them probably belong to much later periods. The relation to the oasis of Palmyra is not clear, and it is possible that the sites are more related to the early farming communities to the north and the east. They may also be related to the early domestication of animals and the development of early pastoralism. From the end of the Pre-Pottery Neolithic until the beginning of the early Bronze Age not much is known about the use of the steppe. In the early Bronze Age (c. 2500) at the latest, when the climate became drier, several hundred cairns were erected in the landscape (Anfinset & Meyer 2010; Morandi Bonacossi et al. 2012). Generally they are located along major tracks Palmyra, Archaeology of and mountain ridges, visible at long distances, marking the territory and the main communication lines, which is common also in other Bronze Age societies in Jordan and the Arabian Peninsula. As there are no major Bronze Age sites within the area, they probably belonged to a pastoral nomadic population, which lived in symbiosis with the agricultural societies and early cities in other parts of Syria. The exact dating of the cairns (C14 and OSL dating is awaited) and the relation to the oasis of Palmyra still need to be clarified. In the historical period, the oasis of Palmyra with its springs could not have supported a large city with foodstuff. Palmyra needed more stable sources of nutrition within its own territory. Daniel Schlumberger was the first scholar to carry out more detailed investigations of the hinterland from 1933 to 1935. In the mountains north of Palmyra, he documented several smaller forts and 15 settlements in the tableland of Jebel Chaar, which he dated to the three first centuries CE. Most scholars have classified the settlements as pastoral holdings, as centers of stock raising, camel herding, or horse breeding. Recent surface surveys north of Palmyra have given a much better understanding of the potential of the hinterland for production of foodstuff (Meyer 2012) (Fig. 5). Normally the area is called a desert, but it rains every year (average annual precipitation 125 mm), and it is more correct to classify it as a dry steppe. Traditional agriculture with barley is a very risky business, but by employing different kinds of water management, the fertility of the soil can be exploited. Small dams, cross-wadi walls, and cisterns with elaborate catch arm systems led the surplus water to the fields as a supplement to the annual rain. Agriculture and horticulture in semidesert areas, based on proper water management, are much more resistant to drought and minor fluctuations in the climate than their counterparts in regions with higher precipitation, and it is also known in The Negev desert, Jordan, and North Africa. The new surveys have also increased the number of known settlements dramatically in the mountain areas, which were covered by trees until recently, and have demonstrated a very dense settlement pattern, which makes more sense in connection 5789 P with agriculture and horticulture, not pastoralism alone. The chronology of the sites must also be revised. Nothing can be dated to the Iron Age or the Hellenistic period, but late Roman, Byzantine, and Umayyad pottery are found in large numbers at almost all sites. This conclusion fits well with the recent excavations in Palmyra itself. The history of Palmyra did not stop after Palmyra lost its position as a major caravan city at the end of the third century. However, the chronological distribution of the surface finds cannot reveal fluctuations in the intensity of human activities at the sites. This issue can only be resolved by excavating sites with deep cultural layers. Schlumberger also investigated one of the largest dams in antiquity about 100 km southeast of Palmyra, the Harbaqa Dam near Qasr al-Heir alGharbi. Until recently the project has been dated to the early Roman period, later improved by the Umayyads, but some scholars now date the construction to the Umayyad period (Genequand 2006). The site needs to be reinvestigated. The greatest challenge for further research, apart from establishing a more precise chronology for the sites, is to correlate the settlements with the different phases in Palmyra itself and put Palmyra into a larger interregional context. We are dealing with a very long time span, covering over 800 years. Was the relationship between city and hinterland the same throughout the period and how do the later Umayyad castles fit into the picture? It has been suggested that the both the rise and fall of Palmyra and the extensive exploitation of the hinterland coincided with major climatic changes, but nothing seems to indicate that the climate of the dry steppe was markedly different from the Ottoman period or that the pre-Roman period was drier. Rather the intensive exploitation of the dry steppe seems to depend on a heavy investment in watermanagement systems and a high degree of political and military control. The Romans and the Umayyads were willing and able to guarantee that. Hereafter a Bedouin strategy of survival, with low degree of central control and low population density slowly took over, and Palmyra was reduced to a small oasis village in the shadow of its former greatness (Fig. 5). P P 5790 Palmyra, Archaeology of Palmyra, Archaeology of, Fig 5 Villages/estates and forts north of Palmyra Cross-References ▶ Floors and Occupation Surface Analysis in Archaeology ▶ Historical Ecology and Environmental Archaeology ▶ Islamic Archaeology ▶ Landscape Archaeology ▶ Rural Life in Islamic Archaeology ▶ Surface Survey: Method and Strategies References AL-AS‛AD, K. & F.M. STE˛PNIOWSKI. 1989. The Umayyad Suq in Palmyra. Damaszener Mitteilungen 4: 205-23. AL-AS‛AD, W. & A. SCHMIDT-COLINET. 2006-2007. The Syro-German/Austrian archaeological mission at Palmyra in 2007. Les annales archéologiques arabes syriennes. Revue d’archéologie et d’histoire 49-50: 75-86. ANFINSET, N. & J.C. MEYER. 2010. The hinterland of Palmyra. Antiquity 84(324). Available at: http://antiquity. ac.uk/projgall/anfinset324/. DELPLACE, C. & J. DENTZER-FEYDY. 2005. L’agora de Palmyre, sur la base des travaux de Henri Seyrig, Raymond Duru et Edmond Frezouls (Bibliothèque archéologique et historique 175). Bordeaux-Beirut: Institut Ausonius, Institut francais du Proche-Orient. DELPLACE, C. 2006-2007. La fouille du marché suburbain de Palmyre (2001-2005). Relation préliminaire. Les annales archéologiques arabes syriennes. Revue d’archéologie et d’histoire 49-50: 91-111. GAWLIKOWSKI, M. 1998. Palmyra, excavations 1997. Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 9, Reports 1997: 197-211. - 2003. Palmyra, season 2002. Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 14, Reports 2002: 279-90. - 2007. Beyond the colonnades: domestic architecture in Palmyra, in K. Gabor & T. Waliszewski (ed.) From Antioch to Alexandria. Recent studies in domestic architecture: 79-93. Warsaw: Institute of Archaeology, University of Warsaw. GENEQUAND, D. 2006. Some thoughts on Qasr al-Hayr alGharbi, its dam, its monastery and the Ghassanids. Levant 38: 63-83. Panamá Viejo (Old Panama) Archaeological Site - 2008. An early mosque in Palmyra. Levant 40: 3-15. HAMMAD, M. 2006-2007. Découverte d’un amphithéâtre à Tadmor-Palmyre. Les annales archéologiques arabes syriennes. Revue d’archéologie et d’histoire 49-50: 87-90. MAJCHEREK, G. 2009. 47th season of excavations – Basilica IV. Polish Centre of Mediterranean Archaeology of the University of Warsaw. Newsletter 2008. Available at: http://www.pcma.uw.edu.pl/index.php? id¼247%26L¼2. MEYER, J.C. 2012. City and hinterland. Villages and estates north of Palmyra. New perspectives. (Forthcoming in Proceedings of the Conference “Palmyra – Queen of the Desert.” 50 years of Polish excavations in Palmyra 1959-2009). Warsaw. MORANDI BONACOSSI, D., M. IAMONI & M. AL-MAQDISSI. 2012. The early history of the western Palmyra desert region. The change in the settlement patterns and the adaptation of subsistence strategies to encroaching aridity: a first assessment of the desert-kite and tumulus cultural horizons. Studia Orontica. SCHMIDT-COLINET, A. (ed.). 1995. Palmyra. Kulturbegegnungen im Grenzbereich (Antike Welt. Zeitschrift für Archäologie und Kulturgeschichte 26, Sondernummer). Mainz am Rhein: Verlag Philipp von Zabern. Further Reading AL-MAQDISSI, M. 2009. Notes d’archéologie Levantine XV. Le bronze ancien à Palmyre. Al-Rāfidān 30: 23-33. ANFINSET, N. 2009. Palmyrena. Palmyra and the surrounding territory. Joint Syrian-Norwegian project. Surface survey north of Palmyra, April and May 2009. Preliminary Report, prehistoric periods. Bergen. Available at: (http://www.org.uib.no/palmyrena/ documents/2009_II.pdf). BOUNNI, A. 1995. Vierzig Jahre syrische Ausgrabungen in Palmyra, in A. Schmidt-Colinet (ed.) Palmyra. Kulturbegegnungen im Grenzbereich (Antike Welt. Zeitschrift für Archäologie und Kulturgeschichte 26, 1995, Sondernummer): 12-20. Mainz am Rhein: Verlag Philipp von Zabern. BOUNNI, A. & K. AL-AS‛AD. 2000. Palmyra. History, monuments and museum (4th edition). Damascus. GAWLIKOWSKI, M. 1992. Palmyra 1991. Polish archaeology in the Mediterranean 3, Reports 1991: 68-76. - 1995. Tempel, Gräber und Kasernen. Die polnischen Ausgrabungen im Diokletianslager, in A. SchmidtColinet (ed.) Palmyra. Kulturbegegnungen im Grenzbereich (Antike Welt. Zeitschrift für Archäologie und Kulturgeschichte 26, 1995, Sondernummer): 21-7. Mainz am Rhein: Verlag Philipp von Zabern. - 1996. Palmyra, excavations 1995. Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 7, Reports 1995: 139-46. GENEQUAND, D. & ABD AL-RAZZAQ MOAZ. 2009. The new urban settlement at Qasr al-Hayr al-Sharqi: components and development in the Early Islamic Period, in 5791 P K. Bartl & B. as-Sham (ed.) Residences, castles, settlements. Transformation processes from Late Antiquity to Early Islam. Proceedings of the International Conference held at Damascus, 5-9 November 2006: 261-85. Rahden: Verlag Marie Leidorf. GRASSI, M.T. 2009. Il “progetto Palmira” (Syria). LANX 2: 194-205. MEYER, J.C. 2008. Surface survey between Palmyra and Isriye. April 2008. Joint Syrian-Norwegian project. Preliminary report. Bergen. Available at: (http://www.org. uib.no/palmyrena/documents/Survey2008.pdf). - 2009. Palmyrena. Palmyra and the surrounding territory. Joint Syrian-Norwegian project. Surface survey north of Palmyra, April and May 2009. Preliminary Report, historical period. Bergen. Available at: (http:// www.org.uib.no/palmyrena/documents/2009_I.pdf). PALMIERI, L. 2010. Étude préliminaire sur les stucs trouvés dans le ”Bâtiment à Péristyle” du quartier sud-ouest de Palmyre (PAL.M.A.I.S. – Fouilles 2008-2009). LANX 6: 175-86. SCHLUMBERGER, D. 1951. La Palmyrène du nord-ouest. Villages et lieux de culte de l’époque impériale. Recherches archéologiques sur la mise en valeur d’une région du désert par les Palmyréniens. Paris: Librairie orientaliste Paul Geuthner. SCHMIDT-COLINET, A., K. AL-AS‛AD & W. AL-AS‛AD. 2008. Zur Urbanistik der hellenistischen Palmyra. Zweiter Vorbericht. Zeitschrift für Orient-Archäologie 1: 452-78. - 1986. Qasr el-Heir el Gharbi. Paris: Librairie orientaliste Paul Geuthner. Syrian-Norwegian Project north of Palmyra: city, hinterland and caravan trade between orient and occident. Available at: http://www.org.uib.no/palmyrena/. POLISH CENTRE OF MEDITERRANEAN ARCHAEOLOGY. n.d. Available at: http://www.pcma.uw.edu.pl/index.php? id¼10&L¼2. ŻUCHOWSKA, M. 2003. Test trench in the street of the Great Colonnade. Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 14, Reports 2002: 291-4. - 2006. Palmyra. Excavations 2002-2005 (Insula E by the Great Colonnade). Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 17, Reports 2005: 439-50. Panamá Viejo (Old Panama) Archaeological Site Beatriz E. Rovira Universidad de Panamá, Panamá City, Panamá Brief Definition of the Topic Panama City was founded by Pedrarias Dávila in 1519, a few years after the arrival of Vasco Núñez P P 5792 Panamá Viejo (Old Panama) Archaeological Site Panamá Viejo (Old Panama) Archaeological Site, Fig. 1 Panamá Viejo (Old Panama) archaeological site de Balboa in Mar Del Sur and about a quarter of a century into the Spanish conquest of the American continent. From 1534, it acquired an important role in the world economic system with the consolidation of Spanish power in Peru, as it then became the link between Andean mineral deposits and the Mother Country. In 1671 the city was destroyed by the buccaneers of Henry Morgan and was subsequently transferred to the place now known as Casco Antiguo (the Old Quarter). This site, known as Panamá Viejo (Old Panama) (Fig. 1), is today administered by the Patronato Panamá Viejo (Old Panama Trust), a not-for-profit organization with a mixed management derived from private and state institutions. In July 2003, Panamá Viejo was included in the UNESCO World Heritage List, conjointly with the Historic District of Panama (that denominated Casco Antiguo). The institution carries out an extensive program that, among other things, includes intervention plans for the site and its surrounds and archaeology projects and plans for the conservation of personal belongings and the preservation of historic ruins, promotion, and tourism (Arango 2006). While it is true that Old Panama has been heritage-listed due to its Hispanic legacy, archaeological research has expanded this considerably, highlighting the importance of its original occupancy. The chronology for the pre-Hispanic component is concentrated between 859 and 1250 CE and ranges from 500 to 1400 CE. As regards the colonial component, research in progress has revealed hitherto unknown aspects of the daily life of the colony, deriving from documentation of a rich collection of pottery. Studies have been carried out of the geographic distribution, composition, and style of the so-called Panamanian Majolica (e.g., Rovira et al. 2006). An exhaustive revision of diverse historical sources (including the painting and literature of the Spanish Golden Age) allowed scholars to relate the Roja Fina (Fine Red) pottery collected from many Spanish colonial sites in the Americas as well as that reported in European texts of the seventeenth century (in Spain, Portugal, and Holland), with indigenous fragrant vessels or “búcaros” (Rovira & Gaitán 2010). Work carried out since structuring of the Old Panama Trust has made a significant contribution to the history of architecture and town planning, incorporating systematic field research (e.g., Campos & Durán 2006). Recovery of the urban fabric has been a priority, given the necessity to facilitate its reading as a colonial city. Interpretation of the built spaces subject to intervention required an interdisciplinary approach guided by internationally adopted principles (Arroyo 2010). The Old Panama Trust develops information programs directed at diverse audiences, among Panhellenism others, an on-site museum, schools of archaeology, and specialized publications. In this way, it contributes to the influence of the site in the spheres of education, academia, and tourism. 5793 P Panhellenism Michael Scott University of Warwick, Coventry, UK Cross-References ▶ Central America: Historical Archaeology of Early Colonial Urbanism ▶ Ceramics: Majolica in Colonial Latin America ▶ Ceramics: Scientific Analysis ▶ Historic Building Conservation: Current Approaches ▶ Portuguese Redwares and Coarse Wares in Historical Archaeology ▶ World Heritage Objectives and Outcomes References ARANGO, J. DE LA G. 2006. El sitio de Panamá Viejo. Canto Rodado 1: 1-15. ARROYO, S. 2010. El plan maestro del conjunto monumental de Panamá Viejo. Diez años después. Canto Rodado 5: 185-212. CAMPOS, J. & F. DURÁN. 2006. La traza urbana colonial de Panamá Viejo, Su recuperación. Canto Rodado 1: 41-64. ROVIRA, B., J. BLACKMAN. L. VAN ZELST, R. BISHOP, C. RODRÍGUEZ & B. SÁNCHEZ. 2006. Caracterización quı́mica de cerámicas coloniales del sitio de Panamá Viejo. Resultados preliminares de la aplicación de activación neutrónica instrumental. Canto Rodado 1: 101-131. ROVIRA, B. & F. GAITÁN. 2010. Los búcaros. De las Indias para el mundo. Canto Rodado 5: 39-78. Further Reading LÖBBECKE, F. & E. TEJEIRA. 2007. El convento de San Francisco en Panamá Viejo. Investigaciones arqueológicas y arquitectónicas. Canto Rodado 2: 101-124. PEARSON, G. 2006. La industria lı́tica de Panamá Viejo. Hacia una caracterización tipológica y tecnológica. Canto Rodado 1: 133-154. ROVIRA, B. 2001. Presencia de mayólicas panameñas en el mundo colonial: algunas consideraciones acerca de su distribución y cronologı́a. Latin American Antiquity 12(3): 291-303. ROVIRA, B. & J. MARTÍN. 2008. Arqueologı́a histórica de Panamá. La experiencia en las ruinas de Panamá Viejo. Vestigios 2: 7-33. ROVIRA, B. & J. MOJICA. 2007. Encrucijada de estilos. La mayólica panameña. Gustos cotidianos en el Panamá colonial. Canto Rodado 2: 69-99. Introduction The Oxford English Dictionary defines panhellenism as patriotism based on the concept of Greece as a whole. This broad understanding of the term has been much in vogue since its invocation in the nineteenth century by early historians of Greece, like G. Grote and John Fiske, who sought to emphasize the reality of an ancient, panhellenic, “united” Greece in response to current political events, particularly the struggle for Greek independence and a “return” to a united, panhellenic, Greece (cf. Mitchell 2007: xv-xxii). Matching the modern term panhellenism (let alone its meaning) to the ancient Greek world has, however, proved more difficult: there is no example of the use of panhellenismos or other term specifically for the phenomena of panhellenism in the ancient sources. Scholarship has concentrated instead on finding references to terms that allude to such a concept. The most obvious is in the Roman world, with the advent of Hadrian’s Panhellenion (Hadrian’s union of Greek poleis within the Roman province of Achaia) in the second century CE. The Panhellenion sought to place emphasis on kinship and cultural Greek ties and sparked a wider use of the term, for example, the panhellenic games in Athens. Yet even this Panhellenion was not panhellenic in the sense that it included all parts of a united Greek world but was rather focused on the metropoleis of old Greece and their overseas colonies (cf. Spawforth & Walker 1985: 81-2). In the archaic and classical Greek world, scholars have pointed to the (rare) use of “panhellenes” and to calls for (different kinds of) Greek unity in different ancient authors (discussed below). Scholars have also occasionally used the concept of panhellenism to argue for the wider existence of particular genres of artistic creation, such as tragedy (e.g., Taplin 1999), and P P 5794 the similarity of “Greek” material culture across its different poleis, thus by extension minimalizing the “uniqueness” of Athenian art (e.g., Morris 1998). The most important application of panhellenic to archaeological material and sites, however, has been as a description for a group of important Greek sanctuaries: Olympia, Delphi, Isthmia, and Nemea (those which hosted the “crown games” and were part of the “periodos” circuit). As a result of this label, it has often been assumed that the function and effect of these sanctuaries was to host and foster “panhellenic unity” through the different activities on offer at each site. Recent scholarship, however, has continued to re-investigate the appropriateness of the term panhellenism and its meaning as “a union of all Greeks” to the ancient reality (and even ideal) in both literature and material culture. As a result, its current definition in the Oxford Classical Dictionary evokes a subtle move away from the earlier blanket concept of unity towards a comparative idea focused around similarity and difference. Panhellenism is “the idea that what the Greeks have in common as Greeks, and what distinguishes them from barbarians, is more important than what divides them” (Hornblower & Spawforth 2003: 1106). Definition Use of the ancient Greek term “panhellenes” is rare before the Roman period. Early examples are Hom Il. 2.530; Ar. Peace 292, 302; Pind. Isthm. 2.38, 4.29; and Pae. 6.60 (fr.52f ¼ D6Ruth). Nor do all these examples necessarily mean “all the Greeks.” Hall in fact argues that the term “hellenes” actually began as “panhellenes” (cf. Iliad 2.530), meaning not “all of the Greeks,” but the “the most Greek of the Greeks” (Hall 2007: 272-4). Much more frequent, of course, are what have been termed “appeals” to concepts of panhellenism, all with reference to different types of community. The most famous is that of Herodotus (8.144.2), in which Greek kinship is based on common language, blood, sanctuaries, sacrifices, and common ways of life; but other such Panhellenism definitions of community can be found in, for example, Hdt. 7.132; 8.121; 9.81 and in inscriptions like Meiggs and Lewis 1988 no. 24 (line 4). Scholarship has occasionally emphasized the very explicit political opportunism of such appeals, particularly by Athens (e.g., Perlman 1976). Yet as a result of widening the net for panhellenism, many scholars have felt the necessity to add descriptive adjectives to narrow down the vagueness of panhellenism, such as “functional” and “true” panhellenism (Neer 2007: 226) and “strong” and “weak” panhellenism (Mitchell 2007: xviii). Such a widening net has also meant increasing overlap with scholarship on differing concepts of “hellenism,” to the extent that the necessity and value of the term panhellenism as distinct from hellenism have been questioned (‘what is so “pan” about “panhellenism”?). In its application to sanctuaries, and particularly Olympia, Delphi, Isthmia, and Nemea, there has also been increasing scholarly uncertainty. This has focused firstly around the date at which each of these sanctuaries can be said to have acted as “panhellenic” entities. Snodgrass, for example, claimed that Delphi was acting out a panhellenic role from the eighth century BCE (Snodgrass 1986), yet Morgan has argued that no such role can be envisaged before the seventh century BCE (Morgan 1993). Scott has continued that line of enquiry, by questioning the role of Olympia and Delphi as always places for all Greeks into the classical period (Scott 2010). Secondly, scholars have criticized the distinction of these four sanctuaries as panhellenic and thus different from others: they were not, as has been claimed, in receipt of unique services, the only sanctuaries that attracted large panhellenic crowds, nor the only ones which were open to all Greeks (cf. Scott 2010: 257). Thirdly, scholars have noted a wide range of differences in activities, ownership, and audience between the four panhellenic sanctuaries themselves (cf. Neer 2007: 226). Equally, other scholars have rejected the usefulness of the term panhellenic as a group description at all, with more recent surveys of these sanctuaries speaking of them as “interurban” rather than panhellenic. Panhellenism Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples While the use of panhellenism as a blanket term meaning “the unity of all the Greeks” to describe the reality of ancient Greece has faded, as well as its use as a distinguishing term for a collective grouping of particular sanctuaries, the scholars have rightly continued to consider moments, genres, places, and ways in which notions of (different kinds and levels of) Greek unity may have had value in the ancient world as ideal and/ or reality. In terms of chronology, most scholars agree that the acme for sentiments of panhellenism during the archaic and classical periods was in the aftermath of the Persian wars (Mitchell 2007: xvi). These events also gave a particular flavor to the concept of Greek unity as something conceived in opposition to what it was not: Persian/barbarian (see the OCD definition above). This was reinforced in the late classical period, when several ancient authors refer to the post-Persian wars (and the anti-barbarian Greek unity that came with it) as a “golden era,” which their worlds should seek to emulate (e.g., Gorgias, Isocrates, Demosthenes, cf. Low 2007), and when Philip based his Hellenic league loosely around the same aim (attacking Persia). In terms of place, though the description of the periodos sanctuaries as panhellenic has been deservedly recognized as problematic, no one denies that there were panhellenic (as well as equally un-panhellenic) aspects to their activities, audience, and reputation, both of which often existed simultaneously and which were constantly changing over time. This increasing recognition of the dynamic and multiplicitous perception and experience of sanctuaries continues to provoke new insights into the complex and crucial place of sacred spaces in ancient society and their frequently oscillating importance within the wider landscape (such as the recent examinations of the early panhellenic outlook of the sanctuary of Kalapodi as on par with that of Olympia and Delphi: Felsch 2007: 227). As such, concepts of panhellenism continue to find their place within the wider spectrum of hellenism, not as 5795 P a static construct of unity but as an evolving part of the polyvalent discourse of Greek identity. Cross-References ▶ Classical (Greek) Archaeology ▶ Polis ▶ Religion, Greek, Archaeology of References FELSCH, R.C.S. 2007. Kalapodi II: Ergebnisse der Ausgrabungen im Heiligtum der Artemis und des Apollon von Hyampolis in der antiken Phokis. Mainz: von Zabern. HALL, J. M. 2007. A history of the archaic Greek world c. 1200-479 BCEE. Oxford: Blackwell. LOW, P. 2007. Interstate relations in classical Greece: morality and power. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. MEIGGS, R. & D. LEWIS. 1988. A selection of Greek historical inscriptions to the end of the fifth century BCE. Oxford: Oxford University Press. MITCHELL, L. 2007. Panhellenism and the Barbarian in archaic and classical Greece. Swansea: Classical Press of Wales. MORGAN, C. 1993. The origins of panhellenism, in N. Marinatos & R. Hägg (ed.) Greek sanctuaries: new approaches: 45–61. London: Routledge MORRIS, I. 1998. Beyond democracy and empire: Athenian art in context, in D. Boedeker & K. Raaflaub (ed.) Democracy, empire and the arts in fifth-century Athens: 58-86. Cambridge (MA): Harvard University Press. NEER, R. 2007. Delphi, Olympia and the art of politics, in H. Shapiro (ed.) Cambridge companion to archaic Greece: 225-64. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. PERLMAN, S. 1976. Panhellenism, the polis and imperialism. Historia 25: 1-30. SCOTT, M. 2010. Delphi and Olympia: the spatial politics of panhellenism in the archaic and classical periods. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. SNODGRASS, A. 1986. Interaction by design: the Greek citystate, in C. Renfrew & J. Cherry (ed.) Peer-polity interaction and socio-political change: 47-58. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. SPAWFORTH, A. & S. WALKER. 1985. The world of the Panhellenion I: Athens and Eleusis. Journal of Roman Studies 75: 78-104. TAPLIN, O. 1999. Spreading the world through performance, in S. Goldhill & R. Osborne (ed.) Performance culture and Athenian democracy: 33-57. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. P P 5796 Further Reading HORNBLOWER, S. & A. SPAWFORTH. 1996. The Oxford classical dictionary (3rd revised edition). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Paper: Preservation and Conservation to stabilize paper and regain aesthetic enjoyment of art and artifacts made on paper. Definition Paper: Preservation and Conservation Hanna M. Szczepanowska Smithsonian Institution, Museum Conservation Institute, Suitland, MD, USA Introduction Paper is one of the oldest man-made materials which origin is conventionally dated to 105 CE when paper was described for the first time by a Chinese script (Hunter 1978). From its invention, paper has been used for many applications, mainly as a material on which art was created and documents written. The container and packaging industry relies on paper. Clothing, umbrellas, and a variety of daily accessories made of paper point to a multitude of paper uses. Each application requires different optical, physical, and chemical properties to meet the users’ expectations. Properties of paper, longevity and response to adverse conditions, rely on properties of fibers that compose paper, process which fibers undergo, and characteristics of additives. Understanding the materials and basic principles of paper manufacturing serves as basis for designing a long-term preservation and conservation strategies. Although its use is ubiquitous, paper is prone to warping, tearing, and staining as a result of mishandling, exposure to light, or changes in temperature and humidity in the environment. Although not all these processes governing chemical and physical changes in paper are fully understood, recognizing that there is a relationship between the environment and paper alteration guides principles of preventive conservation. Conservators are capable to reverse only some of the deterioration processes aiming Paper is a web of fibers, sizing, and fillers assembled with a great degree of heterogeneity in distribution, shape, and chemical composition. Paper is a three-dimensional structure of fibers and voids between them (Bristow 1986). Surface of paper has different properties than bulk. Smoothness or roughness of the paper surface is imparted by application of sizing (or its absence) and different methods of flattening, while paper pliability, rigidity, density, or weight are engineered during paper processing. Fiber composition, additives, and manufacture of paper have impact on longevity of artifacts made of paper (Szczepanowska & Cavaliere 2012; Szczepanowska et al. 2012). Preservation and conservation are activities ensuring that cultural, artistic, and historic material is passed on to future generations serving as a testimony of previous generations’ ways of living. Preservation and conservation activities cannot be properly implemented without understanding the physical and chemical makeup of artifacts. Key Issues Paper components and manufacture, an overview: Paper can be described based on: • Fiber composition, as rag or wood-base paper • Manufacture, as machine or hand-made paper • Western or Oriental, based on the geographical location of paper manufacturing and type of raw material used as paper fiber • Sizing, based on the presence or absence of sizing as sized or unsized paper Paper Fibers Fibers used in papermaking are of plant origin. Commercial papers use primarily wood-origin fibers and dominate today’s market, while artists’ Paper: Preservation and Conservation papers are made from cotton and linen (flex) fibers derived from rag; such paper is often referred to as “rag paper.” The main difference is their chemical content; wood fibers contain more lignin and hemicelluloses, while cotton papers consist of nearly pure cellulose and no hemicelluloses (Rance 1980). All plants that contain lignin also contain hemicelluloses, whereas cotton and other lignin-free fibers lack hemicelluloses. Rag fibers contain the highest percentage of cellulose; thus, papers they produce are more durable and of higher quality. Because of their higher lignin content, woodpulp papers are of lesser quality and more easily deteriorate. Rags and later wood pulp were the main raw materials in Western papermaking. Paper made in the Far East, known as Oriental paper, utilizes mitsumata or mulberry paper (common name: kozo) fibers, harvested from the inner bark of shrubs. Paper therefore can be described as Western or Oriental, depending on the geographical location and associated type of the raw material used in its manufacture. Cotton used for papermaking is derived from new textile cuttings, old rags, and linters. Linters are the shortest fibers in the cotton-harvested lot, varied in a range of 12–64 mm in length long and 20 mm in width. Cotton is almost pure cellulose with a small percentage of protein, pectic substances (congealed gum-like carbohydrates) ash, and wax. Characteristic twist of flattened fiber is a diagnostic morphological feature of cotton fibers. Flax fibers are used in textile and in fine papers (rag papers). The fibers are formed in the stem of the flax plant (Linum usitatissimum). Chemically, flax is the same as the cotton polymer in that they are both cellulose polymers. Physically, the flax polymer differs from the cotton polymer in the degree of polymerization. Morphologically, characteristic nodules on the flax fibers serve as diagnostic feature in a microscopic examination of paper content. Oriental Paper Fibers Fibers of mulberry paper (common name: kozo) and mitsumata are bast fibers, and similarly to flax derive from the inner part, under the bark of 5797 P plants or shrubs. These fibers are used in the Oriental handmade papers producing strong and permanent papers. Besides showing thick walls, the fibers do not have very distinctive morphological features therefore are not easily identified microscopically. Paper mulberry may show a transparent membrane in some places along the fiber wall while Mitsumata shows broader portion in the central part of the fibers (Ilvessalo-Pfaffli, 1995). Paper Manufacture The paper-making processes serve as one of the broad criteria in describing paper as hand- or machine- made and laid or wove paper. The processing of paper has a direct impact on paper’s longevity and susceptibility to deterioration. The principles of papermaking are essentially the same in all regions. Fibers are macerated, suspended in water, and retrieved by sieve-like mould to form a sheet. The changes in the manufacturing processes followed modernization and technical inventions in other fields. The growing needs for variations in paper’s properties lead to broadening the array of additives and finishing processes. Formation of Paper Sheets Macerated fibers (or pulp) are suspended in water slurry. A mould is dipped into the vat of macerated pulp, and a layer of the wet, fibrous material is brought to the surface. When the paper sheet is formed on the mould made of bamboo or grass, horse hair or metal, sieve-like lattice, less fibers are gathered in areas where vertical and horizontal strains of the lattice are intersecting, thus forming so-called chain and laid lines and refer to laid paper. Wove paper is usually produced in a machine-made process and does not have chain and laid lines, but a uniform, cloth-like appearance. Hand and machine processes produce different papers, the quality of which is determined by retention of the original features of the fibers. Long fibers are undamaged in hand processing; short fibers indicate machine production. The quality of the fibers has a direct impact on paper longevity; longer fibers, less damaged during P P 5798 processing, are less susceptible to mechanical breaking and chemical and microbiological attack. The strongest and best quality papers are made by hand; the poorest are machine produced. A great variety of papers fall between these two extremes. The manual process ensures even dispersion of fibers in slurry (fibers suspension in water) and retains fibers’ length, strength, and luster. Fiber flocks are almost completely avoided in a sheet (flocculation is a process in which particles aggregate into small lumps). Paper Sizing The purpose of adding sizing to paper is to modify its resistance to water; it is necessary for the ink to remain on the surface. Gelatin and starch were historically used as paper sizing. Gelatin is made of animal skin shavings, bone or tendon therefore is of protenacious base. Starch is a polysaccharide derived from plants. It is estimated that on a commercial level, starch sizing was abandoned ca fourteenth century in favor of gelatin (Clapp cited in James 1978). However, both are being used in individual, small production paper mills until today. For example, watercolor papers are traditionally sized, meaning additives are applied to reduce the paper sheet absorbency and making it hydrophobic (i.e., repelling water). Filter paper, such as Whatman papers, are unsized, because their purpose is to let the water freely flow during filtration processes. Internal sizing is added to the paper pulp before it is cast in the paper mould; external sizing is applied to the paper surface after the paper has dried. Other traditional sizing included gum Arabic or rosin (Hunter 1978; Emeryton 1980). These substances bond with cellulose via hydrogen bonding and have film-forming propensity on the surface of fibers, thus modifying the paper surface. Rosin-Alum Sizing Alum rosin has been known and used since the nineteenth century. Rosin is a resin extracted from the pine tree, composed of several resinous acids. Alum is a salt, aluminum sulfate. A combination of rosin and alum results in production of sulfuric acid; pH drops to 4.5–5. Paper: Preservation and Conservation The invention of rosin-alum sizing aimed to act as retardant of microbial and fungal growth in wet paper pulp. However, high acidity of the sizing resulted in rapid discoloration of paper and disintegration of fibers. Causes of Paper Deterioration Paper is a stable material when properly cared for, as exemplified by archival collections of manuscript and art on paper dating several hundred years back and found in different parts of the world (James et al. 1997). However, paper can deteriorate easily when proper conditions are not met. The causes of paper deterioration fall into three categories: 1. Inherent, contained in paper: fiber content (cellulose or lignin), introduced during manufacture, such as rosin-alum sizing or applied as acidic inks and paint, such as iron gall ink and verdigris (copper green paint). 2. Environmental, induced by exposure to environmental factors (light, humidity, temperature), contact with acidic material on exhibit or in storage enclosures, or effects of natural or man-made disasters such as floods and hurricanes, fires recovery or war conflicts. Microbiological deterioration falls into this broad category. 3. Negligence of handlers, resulting in damage, such as breakage, tearing or staining, and poor housekeeping, such as unattended pests and insects in collections. Paper-based museum collections include not only flat sheets of paper, such as documents and art, but also bound books or pamphlets, three-dimensional objects, such as globes or paper-mâche sculptures, hats, kites, advertising balloons, and unusual objects such as large balloons carrying incendiary booms during the World War II. Those artifacts contain other materials such as wood, metal, printing inks, artistic media applied on the surface, adhesives, or other additives. Each additional material or alteration of paper dictates a different set of handling and care procedures. Based on the paper objects’ structure and nature of deterioration, two main types of deterioration can be discussed: Paper: Preservation and Conservation Paper: Preservation and Conservation, Fig. 1 Early, twentieth century photograph portrait mounted onto acidic wood-pulp board. Oval, size: 19 ¾00  13 ½00 . (a) Mechanical type of deterioration manifested itself as breakage of the board and tearing of the photograph. Highly acidic and poor 1. Mechanical 2. Chemical So-called “mechanical deterioration” usually refers to physical alterations of an artifact, such as deformations (creases, folds, undulations), structural separations (tears, losses), punctures, skinning of surface, or abrasions. Mechanical type of deterioration often results from breakdown of paper on molecular level (Fig. 1). “Chemical deterioration” indicates alterations of paper on molecular level. These changes may be induced by light (photochemical damage, as seen on Fig. 3) (Feller 1975; Feller & JohnstonFeller 1978; Feller 1994, Whitmore 2002) acidity (Figs. 4, 5) or chemical interaction of applied additives, for example, sticky pressure tape. Biodeterioration caused by fungi alters chemical makeup of papers that contain fillers, causes staining of paper and in conditions favorable to fungal development leads to structural disintegration of paper (Fig. 6) (Szczepanowska & Lovett 1992; Szczepanowska & Cavaliere 2000; Szczepanowska & Moomaw 1994). Acidity is particularly detrimental to longevity of papers because even the most chemically resilient cotton fibers are weakened and destroyed by 5799 P quality board lost its strength to support the photograph. (b) After conservation. The photograph was separated from the source causing deterioration, an acidic backing board. Torn fragments were assembled, aligned, and mended on reverse with Japanese tissue, as seen on Fig. 2 P Paper: Preservation and Conservation, Fig. 2 Reverse of the photograph seen on Fig. 1 illustrating one of the methods used by conservators in assembling and aligning paper fragments. Once aligned, the paper fragments are mended with Japanese mulberry paper using as adhesive archival quality paste P 5800 Paper: Preservation and Conservation, Fig. 3 A 1948 etching on paper; artist: Milton Avery; title: “Nude with Long Torso”; size: 1300  16 ¼00 . (a) Discoloration of the edges and perimeter of the image indicated, based on their pattern, contact with acidic material used by a framer. Discoloration is one of the indicators that paper became acidic. (b) Detail of the etching, showing impression of folds imprinted on paper. It is a typical example of acid migration by contact with inferior material. (c) After conservation work. Discoloration caused by migration of acids from framing material was removed in a series of treatment processes, with organic solvents, washing and chemical local reduction of stains Paper: Preservation and Conservation Paper: Preservation and Conservation 5801 P Paper: Preservation and Conservation, Fig. 4 A 1842 watercolor by D. Burgdorfer; size: 17 7/ 800  1400 . (a) The overall discoloration of this watercolor was caused by synergy of light effect on paper and acid migration from the backing board. The details and colors of the image were obscured by this severe discoloration. (b) After conservation treatment. The watercolor was separated from the board, which was one of the sources of deterioration and washed with water and organic solvents P Paper: Preservation and Conservation, Fig. 5 A detail of the watercolor shown on Fig. 4, (a) before and (b) after conservation. Through the conservation process, the original colors and details were regained acids. Sources of acidity in paper-based museum objects can be identified as inherent, resulting from chemical alterations of paper or caused by off-gassing emitted by the most immediate environment such as enclosures (on exhibit, storage, framing) or polluted environment. The source of paper acidity may be internal, such as the high lignin content in wood-pulp papers. Lignin, an intercellular tissue of the wood, is primarily responsible for rapid degradation of papers made of wood pulp. Another source of paper acidity could be the presence of alum-rosin sizing or acidic paint. One of the visible signs of acidic deterioration of paper is yellowing and brittleness. Preservation Principles Preservation guidelines for paper-based artifacts in archives and museum setting are based on the understanding of the physicochemical makeup of paper, structure of artifacts made of paper, and factors which may cause deterioration of paper. The purpose for which the artifacts were P 5802 Paper: Preservation and Conservation, Fig. 6 A black and white print of Degas, Nude, exemplifying severe biodeterioration. Pigmented fungal deposits stained the paper, and in other areas, fungi digested paper resulting in losses. Paper lost its structural integrity collected and are used influences the preservation guidelines. Flat documents will require different handling and supports than three-dimensional globes or hats. The latter, in particular, will need supports to maintain their three-dimensional form. Preservation may be discussed in two categories as preventive preservation (before any deterioration occurs) and active preservation, such as conservation (when damage has occurred and intervention is needed). Preventive preservation focuses on: 1. Providing proper environment for collections on exhibit and in storage. That means stable temperature (T), relative humidity (RH), and light (L) from which UV portion is filtered out. Although the values of recommended range of RH are shifting when more research reveals an intricate relationship between materials and environment, generally, according to the Smithsonian Institution, the acceptable range is from 37 % to 53 % (Mecklenburg et al. 2004). The most important is to avoid fluctuations of the environmental parameters (RH and T) over longer periods of time. 2. Good housekeeping, meaning ensuring insect and rodent-free environment. 3. Using acid-free materials in the construction of storage enclosures and exhibit supports. Close proximity of artifacts with these Paper: Preservation and Conservation materials needs to ensure that no acidity is transferred to the original objects. 4. Handling policies, loan, transport, packing guidelines, handling and training workshops are the backbone of preventive, long-term collections care. Conservation can be considered an active form of preservation. It requires an interaction with the objects’ fabric; therefore, each step has to be carefully reviewed and planned. Any interaction with the original material leaves an irreversible mark on the original fabric; therefore, conservation should be undertaken only by trained conservators. Knowing that acidity is detrimental to longevity of millions of archival collections, paper engineers and chemists along with archives’ custodians have been engaged for years in finding solutions to prevent and retard that irreversible acidification of paper. The process of neutralizing acidity in paper is called deacidification. Deacidification involves introducing to paper alkaline material such as calcium or magnesium carbonates or calcium hydroxide through aqueous methods (water is the carrier) of nonaqueous (organic solvents are the carrier). Deacidification with aqueous and non-aqueous solutions has been experimented with on large quantities of books. However, there are other composite materials in books, such as bindings, adhesives, and printing media which often reacted with chemicals used in the deacidification processes; therefore, that method not always could be applied to rare and valuable collections. Definition of conservation, according to the American Institute of Conservation reads: [Conservation] “The profession devoted to the preservation of cultural property for the future. Conservation activities include examination, documentation, treatment, and preventive care, supported by research and education” (AIC Directory 2012). Conservation of paper-based artifacts may involve structural repairs, minor stabilization, such as tear mending (Fig. 2) or flattening of folds, and aesthetic treatment aiming to regain visual and artistic integrity of an artifact or artwork. Decisions leading to undertaking Paper: Preservation and Conservation conservation often involve input from collections custodians/owners and curators. Conservation of spiritual collections, that is, objects that are believed to have spiritual significance or power follows rules specific to the culture that produced those artworks, objects, or documents. Cross-References ▶ Archaeological Archives ▶ Archaeological Record ▶ Canada: Cultural Heritage Management ▶ Conservation and Preservation in Archaeology in the Twenty-First Century ▶ Conservation in Museums ▶ Conservation, Restoration, and Preservation in Classical Archaeology ▶ Cultural Heritage Management and Native Americans ▶ Cultural Heritage Management Technology and Training ▶ Cultural Heritage Management: Project Management ▶ Environmental Assessment in Cultural Heritage Management ▶ Experiencing Cultural Heritage ▶ Heritage Values and Education ▶ Heritage Values, Communication of ▶ International Centre for the Study of the Preservation and Restoration of Cultural Property (ICCROM) (Conservation and Preservation) ▶ International Heritage Conservation Principles: Historical Overview ▶ International Council of Museums (ICOM) ▶ International Council of Museums (ICOM): Code of Ethics ▶ International Council on Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS) (Museums) ▶ International Council on Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS): Scientific Committees and Relationship to UNESCO ▶ Material Culture and Education in Archaeology ▶ Recording in Archaeology ▶ SAFE/Saving Antiquities for Everyone 5803 P References BRISTOW J.A. 1986. The pore structure and the sorption of liquids, in J. A. Bristow & P. Kolseth (ed.) Paper structure and properties (International Fiber Science and Technology series 8): 183-99. New York, Basel: Mercel Dekker, Inc. CLAPP, A. 1978. Curatorial care of works of art on paper. Oberlin (OH): Intermuseum Conservation Association. FELLER, R. 1975. Studies on photochemical deterioration. Preprints of the 4th Triennial Meeting. Venice: ICOM Committee for Conservation. - 1994. Accelerated aging, photochemical and thermal aspects (Research in Conservation). Los Angeles: Getty Conservation Institute. FELLER, R. & R. JOHNSTON-FELLER. 1978. Use of the international standards organization’s Blue-Wool Standards for exposure to light, I: use as an integrating light monitor for illumination under museum conditions: 73-80. (Originally printed in Preprints of papers presented at the 6th Annual Meeting, Forth Worth, TX). Washington (DC): American Institute for Conservation. HUNTER, D. 1978. Papermaking: the history and technique of an ancient craft. New York: Dover. ILVESSALO-PFAFFLI, M. 1995. Fiber atlas: identification of paper making fibers (Springer series in Wood Science). Berlin: Springer-Verlag. JAMES, C., C. CORRIGAN, M.C. ENSHAIAN & M.R. GRECA. 1997. Old master prints and drawings, a guide to preservation and conservation. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, Colophon. MECKLENBURG, M., C. TUMOSA & D. ERHARDT. 2004. New environmental guidelines at the Smithsonian Institution. Papyrus, International Association of Museum Facility Administrators 5(3): 16-17. RANCE, H.F. (ed.) 1980. The raw materials and processing of papermaking. Handbook of paper science, 1. New York: Elsevier. SZCZEPANOWSKA, H. & A.R. CAVALIERE. 2000. Fungal deterioration of 18th & 19th century documents: a case study of Tighlman Family Collection. Wye House (International Biodeterioration and Biodegradation 46): 245-49. Easton (MD): Elsevier. - 2012. Conserving our cultural heritage: the role of fungi in biodeterioration, in E. Johanning, P. Morey & P. Auger (ed.) Bioaerosols, fungi, bacteria, mycotoxins, in indoor and outdoor environments and human health: 293-309. Albany (NY): Fungal Research Group Foundation, Inc. SZCZEPANOWSKA, H. & W. LOVETT. 1992. A study of the removal and prevention of fungal stains on paper. Journal of the American Institute for Conservation 31: 147-60. SZCZEPANOWSKA, H. & W. MOOMAW. 1994. Laser stain removal of fungus induced stains from paper. Journal of the American Institute for Conservation 33: 25-32. P P 5804 SZCZEPANOWSKA, H.M. T.G. MATHIA & P. BELIN. 1994. Surface metrology of dynamic interfaces of fungal stains on paper. Proceedings of International Conference on Surface Metrology, Annecy 21th23rd, March, 2012, WHITMORE, P. M. 2002. Pursuing the fugitive: direct measurement of light sensitivity with micro-fading tests, in H. K. Stratis & B. Salvesen (ed.) The broad spectrum, studies in the materials: techniques, and conservation of color on paper. London: Archetype. Papyrology in the Greco-Roman World Papyrology in the Greco-Roman World Arthur Verhoogt Department of Classical Studies, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, MI, USA Introduction Further Reading BRADLEY, S. 2003. Preventive conservation: the research legacy, in J. H. Towsend, K. Eremin & A. Adriens (ed.) Conservation science 2002. London: Archetype. CORR, S. 2000. Caring for collections: a manual of preventive conservation. Dublin: The Institute for Conservation and Preservation of Artistic and Historic Works in Ireland, The Heritage Council. EMERYTON, H.W. 1980. The fibrous raw materials of paper, in H.F. Rance (ed.) The raw materials and processing of papermaking. Handbook of paper science, 1: 91-137. New York: Elsevier. FELLERS C., H. ANDERSON & H. HOLLMARK. 1986. The definition and measurement of thickness and density, in: J. A. Bristow & P. Kolseth (ed.) Paper structure and properties (International Fiber Science and Technology series 8): 152-60. New York, Basel: Mercel Dekker, Inc. GILROY, D. & I. GODFREY. (ed.) 1998. A practical guide to the conservation and care of collections. Perth: Western Australian Museum. NORMAN, B. 1986. The formation of paper sheets, in: J. A. Bristow & P. Kolseth (ed.) Paper structure and properties (International Fiber Science and Technology series 8): 123-50. New York, Basel: Mercel Dekker, Inc. SALMEN L. 1986. The cell wall as a composite structure, in: J. A. Bristow & P. Kolseth (ed.) Paper structure and properties (International Fiber Science and Technology series 8): 51-71. New York, Basel: Mercel Dekker, Inc. SZCZEPANOWSKA, H. 2012. Conservation of cultural heritage: key principles and approaches. London; New York: Routledge. WESTMAN L. & T. LONDSTROM. 1981. Swelling and mechanical properties of cellulose hydrogels. II. The relationship between the degree of swelling and the creep compliance. Journal of Applied Polymer Science 26(8): 2533-44. WHITMORE, P. M., X. PAN & C. BAILIE. 1999. Predicting the fading of objects: Identification of fugitive colorants through direct non-destructive lightfastness measurements. Journal of the American Institute for Conservation 38(3): 395-409. Papyrology, the study of day-to-day documents from the ancient world, provides a rather direct and sometimes intimate look into everyday life in the Greek and Roman Mediterranean. By studying and analyzing the documents actual people left behind, if possible in tandem with the archaeological remains, scholars can arrive at a much more detailed analysis than looking at literary texts or archaeological remains alone. Definition Papyrology is the field of scholarship that deals with texts written on papyrus and other perishable writing materials from the ancient world (potsherds, wood, wax tablets, linen). Papyrus was used as a writing surface from the middle of the third millennium BCE until the introduction of paper at the end of the first millennium CE The writing material papyrus was made from the papyrus sedge (Cyperus papyrus) that grew abundantly along the banks of the river Nile. The person making papyrus would take the stem of the papyrus and peel it. He would then cut strips along the length of the stem and place one layer of these strips closely together horizontally and another vertically on top. Pounding the strips resulted in bringing out the juices that would ensure the strips stayed together to form a sheet. Twenty of such sheets would be joined to form a roll. The inside of the roll would be the side where the fibers ran horizontally, the outside, vertically, allowing for easy rolling of the papyrus, without breaking it. The writing materials that form the object of papyrological scholarship were used all over the Papyrology in the Greco-Roman World Mediterranean world. Their organic nature, however, has caused them to survive, with few exceptions, only in the dry sands of Egypt. Among the more notable exceptions are the carbonized papyri from Herculaneum (Italy) and Petra (Jordan), the wooden tablets from Hadrian’s Wall, and a number of caches of documents found in caves in Israel (including the Dead Sea Scrolls). Potsherds with writing (ostraca, singular ostracon) have survived in bigger quantities as is witnessed by their presence on the Greek mainland and islands (Crete and Rhodes), North Africa, and elsewhere (Bagnall 2011). Within Egypt, papyrus and other writing materials survive largely from arid, upland portions of the country. There are, for example, only a handful texts that survive from Alexandria, Egypt’s capital in the Greek and Roman periods, because of the location of this city in the Nile Delta – and these only survive because they were removed from the city. Within sites at higher elevations, texts are found as part of the archaeological record in inhabited spaces and in refuse collections (Cuvigny 2009). However, texts that were found in one particular location in Egypt may derive from another location, within Egypt itself, or even in the Mediterranean world at large. Thus, there are several letters written outside of Egypt to addressees living in Egypt, often by soldiers serving in the Roman army. P.Mich. 8.490–491, for example, were written by a recruit who had just arrived in Rome, and P.Mich. 3.203 (114–116 CE) was written by a Roman soldier stationed in Pselkis in Nubia. Both men sent letters home to their family in Karanis, Egypt, where the letters from Rome were actually found during the University of Michigan excavations (the letter from Nubia was purchased on the antiquities market). Historical Background Papyri and other writing materials from Egypt have been the object of archaeological investigation since the early 1880s (Cuvigny 2009). Initially, papyri were the prime objective of these activities, searching for the remains of classical 5805 P and early Christian texts. In the course of the twentieth century, the focus changed to papyri as part of the archaeological record in an attempt to analyze the lives of the people of Greek and Roman Egypt. In addition to this organized archaeological activity, papyri have also been discovered during clandestine excavations. These made it to the antiquities market and were purchased by the major collections in the Western world. Precise archaeological proveniences for these papyri are often unknown. Such trade has been illegal since the 1972 UNESCO Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property came into force. The writing materials from Egypt preserve all languages that were in use during Egypt’s history. There are documents in the various Egyptian scripts (Hieroglyphs, Hieratic, Demotic), Aramaic, Greek, Latin, Coptic, Arabic, and smaller samples of other language communities that were present in Egypt at one time or another. Historically, the scholarly world has divided the various languages between different fields with Egyptian texts falling under Egyptology and Greek and Latin under Classical studies, often with such division that bilingual texts on the same piece of papyrus were published in separate installments. More recently, the growing interest of historical studies in the papyri from Egypt has given rise to more encompassing studies of Greek and Roman Egypt using both textual documents (whatever the language) and archaeological data (e.g., Wendrich et al. 2003). Key Issues/Current Debates The contents of papyrological texts are diverse and varied (Bagnall 2009). They include everything from works of literature to small receipts for the payment of taxes. The works of literature include both those that are known from the medieval manuscript tradition as well as those that were lost during that process. Among the known works, Homer is the most popular author in terms of surviving fragments, partly because of the importance of this author in education (Cribiore 2001). P P 5806 Among the authors whose work can now be glimpsed from papyri is Menander, as well as several poets from the archaic period like Simonides, Sappho, and Alcaeus. Literary papyri are very important in understanding and analyzing literary culture, especially during the Roman Empire (Johnson 2010). A large portion of the surviving texts from Egypt illustrates the activities of the state, both when Egypt was an independent kingdom under the Ptolemies and later when part of the Roman, then Byzantine Empire. There are several directives from the reigning monarchs, both decrees of the Ptolemaic kings (Lenger 1980) and edicts of the Roman emperors (Oliver 1989). More numerous are texts from the lower ranges of the bureaucracy to various higher state agencies. These include census declarations, various reports about the use of land and livestock, and so on. Taken together, papyri allow for a vivid picture of Egyptian state government at work in various historical periods. The surviving documents from Greek and Roman Egypt also include many financial documents, allowing for detailed debates about the workings of the ancient economy (Manning 2007; Rathbone 2007). There are numerous documents of sale, loan, and lease, as well as numerous accounts that allow for the reconstruction of the workings of, for example, large estates in Roman Egypt (Rathbone 1991; Hickey forthcoming). Although found in Egypt, papyri often illustrate matters concerning the ancient Mediterranean world at large. One text from the Michigan collection, for example, provides a list of boats that arrived at the Alexandrian harbor. The text, P.Bingen 77 (¼P. Mich.inv. 5760), dates to the second century C.E. and gives a list of the boats with their tonnage, their names, the harbor from which they sailed, and their cargo (largely wine). This text gives a firsthand account of what trade in the Roman Empire was all about. Future Directions One of the more intriguing historical questions in dealing with Egypt’s relatively rich textual Papyrology in the Greco-Roman World sources is whether or not the arising picture is representative for other parts of the Mediterranean world. In this respect, there are two interesting tendencies in modern scholarship. The first is, for the Hellenistic period, a drive towards seeing Ptolemaic Egypt principally as a representative of Egyptian, not Hellenistic history (Manning 2010), though the everyday writing culture in Egypt may be representative for large parts of the Hellenistic world (Bagnall 2011).The second tendency is the growing awareness among historians of the Roman world that Egypt is in many (but certainly not all) respects a typical province of the empire (Lewis 1984). Cross-References ▶ Hellenistic and Roman Egypt, Archaeology of References BAGNALL, R.S. 2011. Everyday writing in the GraecoRoman East (Sather Classical Lectures 69). Berkeley: University of California Press. BAGNALL, R.S. (ed.). 2009. The Oxford handbook of papyrology. Oxford: Oxford University Press. CRIBIORE, R. 2001. Gymnastics of the mind: Greek education in Hellenistic and Roman Egypt. Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press. CUVIGNY, H. 2009. The finds of papyri: the archaeology of papyrology, in R.S. Bagnall (ed). The Oxford handbook of papyrology: 30-58. Oxford: Oxford University Press. HICKEY, T. forthcoming. Wine, wealth, and the state in late antique Egypt: the House of Apion at Oxyrhynchus. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. JOHNSON, W. 2010. Readers and reading culture in the high empire: a study of elite reading communities. Oxford: Oxford University Press. LENGER, M.T. 1980. Corpus des Ordonnances des Ptolémé es (C.Ord.Ptol.). Brussels: Academieroyale de Belgique. LEWIS, N. 1984. The Romanity of Roman Egypt: a growing consensus, in M. Gigante (ed.) Atti del XVII Congresso Internazionale di Papirologia: 1077–84. Naples: Centro Internazionale per lo Studio dei Papiri Ercolanesi. MANNING, J.G. 2007. Hellenistic Egypt, in W. Scheidel, I. Morris & R. Saller (ed.) The Cambridge economic history of the Greco-Roman world: 434–59. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Paranthropus - 2010. The last Pharaohs: Egypt under the Ptolemies, 305–30 BC. Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press. OLIVER, J.H. 1989. Greek constitutions of early Roman emperors from inscriptions and papyri. Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society. RATHBONE, D. 1991. Economic rationalism and rural society in third-century A.D. Egypt: the Heroninos archive and the Appianus Estate. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. - 2007. Roman Egypt, in W. Scheidel, I. Morris & R. Saller (ed.) The Cambridge economic history of the Greco-Roman world: 698–719. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. WENDRICH, W.Z. et al. 2003. Berenike crossroads: the integration of information. Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 46: 46–87. Further Reading BAGNALL, R. & D. RATHBONE. 2004. Egypt from Alexander to the early Christians. An archaeological and historical guide. London and Los Angeles: Getty Publications. PAPYRI.INFO. n.d. Available at www.papyri.info. TRISMEGISTOS. n.d. Available at: www.trismegistos.org. Paranthropus Ronald J. Clarke Institute for Human Evolution, University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, South Africa Introduction and Definition This genus name was created by R. Broom in 1938 for a partial cranium, right mandibular corpus, and isolated teeth from Kromdraai near Sterkfontein, South Africa. The fossil had been found by a schoolboy, Gert Terblanche. Broom noted that it not only had large molars and premolars but that if a ruler was placed across the cheekbones, the nasal region was behind the ruler. It was clear that it possessed a naturally dished face, unlike those of Taung and Sterkfontein. Thus, Broom considered it a new genus of ape-man, parallel to man (Paranthropus), with robust jaws and teeth. He therefore gave it the species name Paranthropus robustus. 5807 P Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples In 1948, Broom and his assistant, John Robinson, found similar fossils at Swartkrans Cave also near Sterkfontein, and named a second species Paranthropus crassidens. Swartkrans proved to be a prolific source of Paranthropus fossils including crania (Fig. 1, right), mandibles (Fig. 2), two proximal femora, a partial pelvis, and isolated teeth. They ranged from infants to elderly and provided much information on Paranthropus morphology (Broom & Robinson 1952). The dished face resulted from the cheek bones having moved forward to make space behind them for the massive temporal muscles that, in males, were anchored to a sagittal crest. Such muscles were necessary to operate the heavily built mandibles that contained huge molars and premolars with low bulbous cusps that wore down to a flat surface in older individuals. By contrast, the canines and incisors were small and cramped into a small space. This emphasis on heavy grinding dentition led Robinson to advance a dietary hypothesis suggesting that Paranthropus was a specialized vegetarian. Another locality rich in Paranthropus fossils, including a complete female skull, was discovered by André Keyser (2000) at Drimolen Cave some distance from, but in the same general area as Swartkrans. All of these fossils, together with a few from Cooper’s Cave, Sterkfontein Caves, and Gondolin, date to under 2 million years ago and are associated with fauna of a more open grassland environment than that of Australopithecus africanus. It is now generally accepted that only one species, Paranthropus robustus, is represented. On the 17 July 1959, Mary Leakey discovered, eroding out of Bed I deposits at Olduvai Gorge, Tanzania, a cranium with colossal cheek teeth, small cramped incisors and canines, a sagittal crest, dished face, and gutter running from the maxillary clivus into the floor of the nose (Fig. 1, left). Louis Leakey named it Zinjanthropus boisei, but it is clearly a massive East African form of Paranthropus. Phillip Tobias who P P 5808 Paranthropus Paranthropus, Fig. 1 Paranthropus robustus cranium SK 48 from Swartkrans (right), and Paranthropus boisei cranium OH 5 from Olduvai (left), with reconstructed mandible Paranthropus, Fig. 2 Paranthropus mandibles from Swartkrans published a monograph on this cranium (Tobias 1967) did not recognize the generic distinction of Paranthropus and so classified the Olduvai fossil as Australopithecus boisei. Others before him had also considered that Paranthropus should be classed as Australopithecus. John Robinson, however, who knew the fossils intimately, argued from his experience as both zoologist and paleontologist that because Paranthropus could be distinguished clearly from Australopithecus on almost any parts of the skeleton, it deserved generic recognition. He was supported in this view by Clarke (1996) and now, with the very large inventory of fossils of several species of Australopithecus and three species of Paranthropus, many more researchers have accepted the generic distinction. In 1964, Kimoya Kimeu on an expedition to West Lake Natron, Tanzania, run by Richard Leakey and Glynn Isaac, spotted a mandible high up in an exposure of sediments at Peninj. When he retrieved the fossil, it proved to be a Paranthropus in excellent condition with all teeth preserved. Particularly noticeable were the small size of the canines and incisors crowded in front of the huge premolars. Although similar to mandibles from Swartkrans, the Peninj jaw had teeth even bigger, of the size that would fit the Olduvai Zinjanthropus cranium. This mandible is classified also as Paranthropus boisei. The Olduvai cranium was dated by potassium argon dating of the layer in which it occurred to 1.75 million years and in subsequent years, some more fragmentary fossils, including isolated teeth of Paranthropus boisei, were found at Olduvai. Many more fossils of this species were later recovered from similar aged sediments on the east side of Lake Turkana (Formerly Lake Paranthropus Rudolf), Kenya. These included some mandibles even more massive than that of Peninj as well as crania. One magnificent cranium, KNM ER 406, was lying in a dry river bed and spotted by Richard Leakey as he was riding a camel. Although the teeth had been weathered away, the cranial architecture exhibited classic Paranthropus morphology of a dished face, extreme postorbital constriction leaving ribs of bone above the orbits, a sagittal crest, and widely flaring zygomatic arches leaving a large space for the temporal muscles. The discovery of a smaller, less muscular cranium, KNM ER 732, showed typical Paranthropus morphology and this represented a female contrasting greatly with the males KNM ER 406 and Zinjanthropus (OH 5). A partial cranium containing some well-preserved teeth including a tiny canine was found under a thorn tree at Chesowanja, near Lake Baringo, Kenya, in 1970 (Carney et al. 1971). Beginning in 1967, several Paranthropus mandibular fossils and numerous isolated teeth were recovered in the Omo region of Southern Ethiopia by a joint French and American expedition directed by C. Arambourg, F. C. Howell, and Y. Coppens. One very massive mandible (L7-A-125) dates between 2.15 and 2.25 million years. It is thus much older than the Zinjanthropus cranium or the other Paranthropus boisei fossils from East Lake Turkana. However, it has been generally assumed to belong to Paranthropus boisei (Howell 1978). Another Omo mandible without teeth was derived from an even older horizon dating to about 2.6 million years. This mandible (Omo 18-1967-18) was made the type specimen of a new genus and species Paraustralopithecus aethiopicus (Arambourg & Coppens 1968). It is now, however, classified as Paranthropus aethiopicus. Creation of a new species on the basis of this poorly preserved mandible was debatable, but a subsequent discovery of a cranium from West Lake Turkana provided support. The cranium KNM WT 17000 was found in 1985 at Lomekwi and dated to 2.5 million years ago. Because of its color, 5809 P it was known as the “Black Skull” and its significant differences from Paranthropus boisei, coupled with its early date, prompted Alan Walker and Richard Leakey to suggest that it might represent Australopithecus aethiopicus (i.e., Paranthropus aethiopicus). Although the Black Skull has cranial architecture typical of Paranthropus, i.e., a broad, dished face, extreme postorbital constriction, widely flaring zygomatics, nasal gutter, inflated mastoids, wide supramastoid shelf, prominent sagittal crest, and bases of massive cheek teeth, it has some differences from Paranthropus boisei and Paranthropus robustus. The anterior dentition occupied a wide space and the endocranial capacity was only 410 cc compared to the 530 cc of Zinjanthropus. The facial profile exhibits a pronounced anterior slope, contrasting with the typically much more vertical profile of Paranthropus boisei and Paranthropus robustus. The first known cranium with associated mandible (KGA 10-525) of Paranthropus boisei was found in 1993 at Konso, Ethiopia (Suwa et al. 1997). The skull and eight other Paranthropus fossils were recovered from deposits well dated between 1.4 and 1.5 million years. They are associated with dry grassland fauna. A very weathered maxillary fragment with damaged first and second molars (RC 911) was found in 1996 in the Chiwondo Beds of Malema in Malawi. The fossil was provisionally dated at 2.4 million years and assigned to Paranthropus boisei by Schrenk et al. (1997). Paranthropus was a widespread African genus of massive-jawed ape-man extending from South Africa to Ethiopia and covering a period of one and a half million years. It is not known outside of Africa. John Robinson had considered that the heavily built mandible of Meganthropus from Java was a Paranthropus but the teeth are morphologically distinct from that genus and it seems probable that it is an Asian representative of Homo habilis, as observed by Phillip Tobias and Ralph von Koenigswald. Although Paranthropus has often been found in areas where there are Oldowan and Early Acheulean stone tools, it is not generally thought P P 5810 that Paranthropus was responsible for making them. Homo habilis and Homo ergaster also occur in the same areas, and it is believed that Homo with its much larger brain was the toolmaker while smaller brained Paranthropus relied on its specialized dentition for processing plant foods. The cheek teeth of Paranthropus are large and wear to a flattened surface with side to side scratches and pitting, indicating that its molars were natural grindstones. Because of the massive teeth and jaws with associated strong musculature, Paranthropus is often referred to as a “robust australopithecine.” This term can however be misleading because some of the so-called gracile australopithecines, i.e., members of the genus Australopithecus, often have large teeth and robust jaws that can exceed those of many Paranthropus individuals. Australopithecus prometheus and Australopithecus garhi in particular exhibit large “robust” cheek teeth. Cross-References ▶ Australopithecines ▶ Homo habilis ▶ Leakey Family ▶ Olduvai Gorge Archaeological Site ▶ Tobias, Phillip V. References ARAMBOURG, C., & Y. COPPENS. 1968. Decouverte d’un australopithecien nouveau dans les gisements d ’Omo (Ethiopie). South African Journal of Science 64: 58-59. BROOM, R. 1938. The Pleistocene anthropoid apes of South Africa. Nature: 142: 377-379. BROOM, R. & J. ROBINSON. 1952. Swartkrans ape-man (Museum Memoir 6). Pretoria: Transvaal Museum. CARNEY, J., A. HILL, J.A. MILLER & A. WALKER. 1971. Late australopithecine from Baringo District, Kenya. Nature 329: 111-112. CLARKE, R.J. 1996. The genus Paranthropus: what’s in a name?, in W.E. Meikle, F.C. Howell & N.G. Jablonski (ed.) Contemporary issues in human evolution (Memoir 21): 93-104. California: Academy of Sciences. Parchment: Preservation and Conservation HOWELL, F.C. 1978. Overview of the Pliocene and earlier Pleistocene of the lower Omo basin, southern Ethiopia, in C. Jolly (ed.) Early hominids of Africa: 85-130. London: Duckworth. KEYSER, A. 2000. The Drimolen skull. South African Journal of Science 96: 189-193. SCHRENK, F. et al. 1997. Geologie, Paläontologie und Paläoanthropologie des Malawi-Rifts Cour. Forschungsinstitut Senckenberg 201: 409-419. SUWA, G., B. ASFAW et al. 1997. The first skull of Australopithecus boisei. Nature 389: 489-492. TOBIAS, P.V.T. 1967. Olduvai Gorge, Volume 2: the cranium and maxillary dentition of Australopithecus (Zinjanthropus) boisei. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Further Reading ARAMBOURG, C. & Y. COPPENS. 1967. Sur la découverte, dans le Pléistocène inférieur de la vallée de l’Omo (Ethiopie) d’une mandibule d’Australopithécien. Comptes Rendus de l’Académie des Sciences, Paris, Série D 265: 589-590. BROOM, R. & G.W.H. SCHEPERS. 1946. The South African fossil ape-men: the Australopithecinae (Museum Memoir 2). Pretoria: Transvaal Museum. GRINE, F. (ed.) 1989. Evolutionary history of the ‘robust’ Australopithecines. New York: Aldine de Gruyter. KASZYCKA, K. 2002. Status of Kromdraai (Cahiers de Paléoanthropologie). Paris: CNRS Editions. READER, J. 2011. Missing links. Oxford: Oxford University Press. ROBINSON, J.T. 1972. Early hominid posture and locomotion. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. SCHWARTZ, J. H. & I. TATTERSALL. 2005. The human fossil record, Volume 4: craniodental morphology of early hominids (genera Australopithecus, Paranthropus, Orrorin), and overview. New Jersey: Wiley-Liss. Parchment: Preservation and Conservation Lee G. Gonzalez and Tim J. Wess Cardiff University, Cathays, UK Introduction It is believed that processed animal hides were first used as writing materials in Egypt, in the Fourth Dynasty – 2700–2500 BCE (Ryder 1964). The processed hide-parchment-grew in popularity because of the high cost and growing Parchment: Preservation and Conservation scarcity of papyrus. Its use spread across the empires of the Babylonians and Assyrians (2300 BCE) and is reported in inscriptions on stone tablets found from the Seleucid era (311 BCE–600 CE); KUSH-SAR appears, meaning “skin writer,” and this is contrasted with DUBSAR meaning “tablet writer.” Parchment was in many respects an ideal writing material because of the practicality of transporting parchment documents, the superior handling qualities, and its durability. It was most commonly used for sacred documents which were likely to endure much use and consultation. Although papyrus was undoubtedly the most common writing medium in the Egyptian empire, by the first century CE parchment had surpassed papyrus in popularity. Parchment sheets were often stitched together to form parchment notebooks which were used for accounts, drafts, and letters. Evidence for this use is provided by the poet Martial, who refers to the availability of parchment codices for use by travelers (Epigrams 1.2 and XIV.184-92) (Reed 1972). Parchment documents reporting our history are culturally important; they describe – in part – the development of civilization and our progress over time. Using historical documents, we have been able to investigate the important aspects of our ancestors and the origin and attributions of divinity to humans in the ancient world. Some of the most important parchment documents ever discovered, namely, the Dead Sea Scrolls, have contributed significantly to the divine ideology. Parchment can also provide information about how the methods of producing documents and processing animal hides have developed over the centuries. Furthermore, provenance of parchments provides information about the growth of cities, trade routes, and its economic and social importance in relation to local communities. Preserving such documents is therefore an important undertaking if we are to keep our cultural heritage intact, and parchment research is vital if we are to improve our knowledge of preservation treatments and store these precious documents for future generations. 5811 P Definition The processing of hides into parchment involves treatments to remove a majority of the noncollagenous components such as hair and fat. The most common hides used to make parchment are those from cattle, calves, sheep, and goats. The practice of processing animal hides for the use of written documents has evolved over the last 4000 years; the main points of the manufacturing processes are well known. There are various forms of parchment, and they depend upon the manner in which the animals were killed. Most hides come from animals slaughtered in abattoirs, whereby the animal is thoroughly bled. The draining of blood allows the fine dermal blood vessels to become colorless, making them difficult to visualize in the flayed skin. If the skin is not drained of blood, the iron compounds present in the heme group react with the liming solutions and can form dark stains which are difficult to remove. If the animal has not been slaughtered in an abattoir and killed by a hunter or died of natural causes, blood often remains in the blood vessels and the parchment appears “veined,” although this may not be desirable for documents, it is often used to produce decorative book bindings. Most parchments are manufactured from young animals, between 8 and 12 months old; however, occasionally much older animals may be used. The type of parchment from older animals is instantly recognizable, in that it is thick in substance. The most revered parchments are those manufactured from kidskin and calfskin, which are made from very young animals; these are some of the finest parchments available. The skins are superior in strength and have very smooth grains. The hair follicle markings are exceptionally weak because the blood vessels have not fully developed, and their appearance is fine and hardly visible with the naked eye (Reed 1975). The strength and durability of parchment is attributed to its main structural component collagen. Collagen is a protein made from polypeptide chains, which are linear polymeric sequences of amino acids. Collagen has a specific rigid P P 5812 configuration of local ordering (and in some cases long range ordering) of polypeptides chains. Collagen polypeptide chains have an obligate sequence based upon the multiple repetitive amino acid tri sequence Glycine-X-Y, where X and Y are frequently proline and hydroxyproline (imino acids). The small glycine amino acid affords the tight turn of the helical structure and its intimate relationship with two neighboring polypeptide chain sequences to form a triple helix. This metastable entity is well recognized in many tissues of the extracellular matrix. It can be described as a structural motif that polypeptide chain sequences rich in glycine and amino acids can lock into. Furthermore, the strong ropelike structure has to be perturbed significantly in order to push the local conformational stability toward a more global entropically stable state – gelatine. More detailed descriptions of collagen structures at a variety of architectural levels have been documented by Wess in (Fratzl 2008). In skin (hide) and subsequently parchment, the fibril-forming type I and type III collagens are present. The structure of the collagen hierarchy for fibril-forming collagen types from the triple helix to the fibril and thence fiber has been widely investigated and its mechanical properties reported. Collagen polypeptide chains wind into a triple helix to form a collagen molecule, collagen molecules are then consecutively arranged to form a fibril, fibrils are arranged into bundles to form fibers, and fibers are arranged to form a collagen tissue. The collagen triple helix is “locked” into its rope like structure. The stability of the triple helix and the collagen tissue is the result of extensive intramolecular and intermolecular bonds. The triple helical collagen molecule is stabilized by intramolecular bonding between the amide group of the glycine residues and the carboxyl group of the proline residue and water mediated hydrogen bonds. Additional stability of the collagen hierarchical assembly and aggregation of the collagen fibril is conferred to further intermolecular bonding such as cross-linking at the terminal ends of collagen molecules. There are several factors that also contribute to triple helix stability and these are well documented. Parchment: Preservation and Conservation The loss of structural integrity and subsequent fragmentation of parchment are attributed to the loss of the structural order of the parchment’s collagen component. When collagen molecules lose their characteristic triple helix motif, they tend to adopt a random geometry, producing a disordered structure – gelatine. The denaturation and unfolding of the collagen triple helix post mortem requires two components: firstly, an agent to break molecular bonding and perturb the structure and secondly, water to cause osmotic swelling and force the polypeptide chains apart from one another. The agents that can cause molecular bond disruption are numerous. They include high and low pH, UV irradiation, and heat. In parchment, the measurement of degradation has been widely investigated (Gonzalez & Wess 2008). The absence of the hierarchical structural organization and random chain conformation in gelatine means that the mechanical properties of gelatine are different to the parent collagen. The change in the mechanical properties is brought about because the random chain conformation exposes more sites for ionic and covalent molecular bonding to occur. When dry, gelatine is more resistant to deformation than the parent collagen tissue, and when wet, it has the potential to hold more water than the parent collagen tissue (Yakimets et al. 2007). This means that parchments can hold different amounts of water at the same relative humidity, depending upon their relative proportions of collagen and gelatine. Key Issues and Future Directions Preserving Parchment Artifacts Archives and institutions that house parchments manage their collections to make the parchments available for use. Parchments are incredibly stable materials and when well preserved can survive for thousands of years. However, the continual problem archives face is that parchments change over time; they can, for example, discolor, fragment, tear, curl, and become brittle. The change of parchment artifacts can occur very slowly, and this can be – in part – controlled by Parchment: Preservation and Conservation the environment that the parchment is housed in; for example, storage rooms can have their temperature, relative humidity, and amount of light controlled. Further preservation can be enhanced by conservation treatments and the way the documents are handled (Larsen 2007). The care taken when handling documents is focused upon preventing damage as the objects are moved and read. For example, books should never be pulled from the shelf by their spine using fingernails as this could cause scratches to the covering material. It is also recommended that a hand be placed over the cover of the book and to gently slide the book forward until it can be grasped securely to remove it. Managing the “change” of parchment collections is a difficult task because it requires a balance between making parchments available to users and protecting the integrity of the object. The array of factors that cause degradation has subsequently led to a growing need to understand how to prevent deterioration and how to store documents more effectively. The macroscopic properties of parchment have been used extensively as a qualitative means of identifying degradation of parchment. Parchment research over the last two decades has developed significantly by providing quantitative evidence of degradation within parchment; this has been through spectroscopic, thermal, and structural analysis, which has in turn informed management of collections and the effectiveness of conservation treatments (Larsen 2002). The next section provides a brief overview of how these different parchment research areas and how they have contributed to our current knowledge of parchment and the best methods for preservation. What Do We Need to Understand to Provide the Best Preservation and Conservation for Parchments? In the last 20–30 years, the availability of scientific techniques to the field of conservation has meant that new understandings of the parchment material and how it behaves have led to more evidence-based decisions. In this time it has been possible to work toward defining the chemical and structural changes within parchment that 5813 P contribute toward the overall change of a parchment manuscript. To aid in the preservation and conservation of parchment, the following (among many) research questions can be addressed: What Is the Structural Composition of Parchment? Parchment as a form of treated dried skin can be analyzed using techniques that have evidenced the molecular hierarchical organization of many biological tissues. Here, the production process and subsequent storage or treatment can cause alteration in the molecular structure of the material as well as influence the differential hierarchical and stratigraphic nature of parchment. Microscopic evaluations of parchment tend to mostly be qualitative and examine textural differences within specific sites of parchment samples; electron microscopy by transmission or scanning modes also tends to have a more qualitative view of the hierarchical organization and nanostructure of fibrils being evidence or otherwise (Kautek et al. 2000). X-ray diffraction has provided a more robust way of furnishing structural information about parchment since the diffraction signal for collagen is relatively well characterized and very strong in terms of biomaterials. The intensity of the diffraction pattern and the changes that occur due to increased disorder in the sample and the presence of the lipid and mineral can all be captured in the same diffraction images (Kennedy et al. 2002). The potential to evidence the presence of gelatine in the parchment is more challenging due to the ill-defined structural basis by which gelatine is characterized as opposed to collagen. However, the ability for X-ray diffraction to collect the contribution made from several billion molecules simultaneously can provide a statistically useful qualitative analysis of the structural composition. This can be further aided by an analysis of the structural heterogeneity within the parchment from the flesh to grain side by the use of Microfocus X-ray diffraction. Typically, X-ray beams used are of the order 100–200 mm in diameter; taking thin sections of parchment samples, an X-ray beam can be used to selectively scan the parchment thin P P 5814 Parchment: Preservation and Conservation section from the flesh to grain side; this can reveal the stratigraphy of the parchment and allows the possible effects of ink penetration to be evaluated. Spectroscopy can also be used as an efficient way of examining molecular change within parchment and is especially useful where the penetration of the probing radiation such as infrared can be limited to the first few microns on the surface of an object. change. Discoloration of parchment as a significant factor of change needs to be considered; although this has for some time been believed to be related to the presence of gelatine, this has more recently been shown to not be correlated to other physical changes, and the mechanism of discoloration possibly resided in more complex chemistries involving lipid and sugar residues (Gonzalez et al. 2012). How Does Parchment React with Relative Humidity? Having defined parchment as a composite hierarchical material with a stratigraphic variation in composition and organization from flesh to grain size, it is likely that such material has a complex relationship with thermal changes and relative humidity. Although it may be attractive to imagine that parchment may behave differentially in thermal and humid settings, the quantitative evidence of this has been challenging. Thermal studies of parchment are often used to monitor the melting of collagen fibers to detect the susceptibility of parchment to be compromised by any storage or treatment strategy. Quantitative studies have been used to detect the fire damage that a parchment may have been exposed to (Fessas et al. 2000). Systematic studies where changes in relative humidity have been used to see if a lasting imprint is made on parchment have been more challenging. Few studies have been conducted in this area, and the results are difficult to interpret in terms of providing evidence regarding the best possible storage conditions for parchment documents (Hansen et al. 1992; Dernovskova et al. 1995). How Do Conservation Treatments Affect Parchment? The development of intervention strategies for conservation of materials has to be approached with caution. There are several causes where strategies for conservation have caused more damage than good. Strategies for deacidification (especially in papers) and lamination of both paper and parchment have both produced unintended and damaging consequences. The potential for new developments in conservation treatment and the efficacy of established treatments can be assessed in the light of analysis of the integrity of the parchment in terms of surface and substructure. A good example is the use of X-ray diffraction to examine the potential damage through laser cleaning of parchment objects (Kennedy et al. 2004). Results showed that the collagen within parchment remained intact after laser cleaning, but parchment collagen could be damaged by exposure of laser cleaning using dwell times for cleaning longer than those advised or used routinely. What Are the Degradation Processes Within Parchment and How Can We Measure Them? The main considerations of change in parchment are those that affect the functionality of a document, that is, the contrast with which it can be read and the ability for it to be handled. The change from collagen to its entropically stable partner end state of gelatine leads to fragility; however, the relationship between macroscopic behavior such as cocking and tearing has been difficult to correlate causally with molecular Can We Advise on a Strategy for Storage? The scientific evidence described above can be used to inform strategies for conservation and storage. More work will have to be done in terms of longitudinal studies that will monitor and provide numerical analyses of the effects of different parchment storage environments. In terms of work conducted so far, it must once again be stressed that parchment is a stratigraphic material and that the structurally most vulnerable part of the parchment is the gelatine component and the collagen component that is predisposed to denaturation. Techniques therefore need to identify the most vulnerable Parker, Arthur Caswell parchments in collections and also be useful in identifying the region of the parchment most at risk. For example, a future phased conservation strategy may use our scientific knowledge to prioritize the parchments that have the highest gelatine content for storage under more stringent conditions and for the parchments with the highest collagen contents to be exposed to a more relaxed and cost-efficient variable RH and temperature regime. Cross-References ▶ Cultural Heritage and Communities ▶ Cultural Heritage Management: Cost and Benefit of Change ▶ X-Ray Diffraction (XRD): Applications in Archaeology References DERNOVSKOVA, J., H. JIRSOVA & J. ZELINGER. 1995. An investigation of the hygroscopicity of parchment subjected to different treatments. Restaurator 16: 31-44. FESSAS, D., A. SCHIRALDI, R. TENNI, L. VITELLARO ZUCCARELLO, A. BAIRATI & A. FACCHINI. 2000. Calorimetric, biochemical and morphological investigations to validate a restoration method of fire injured ancient parchment. Thermochimica Acta 348: 129. FRATZL, P. (ed.) 2008. Collagen: structure and mechanics. New York: Springer. GONZALEZ, L.G.& T.J. WESS 2008. Use of Attenuated Total Reflection - Fourier Transform Infrared Spectroscopy to measure collagen degradation in historical parchments. Applied Spectroscopy 62: 1108-14. GONZALEZ, L.G., M. WADE, N. BELL, K. THOMAS & T.J. WESS. In press. Using Attenuated Total ReflectionFourier Transform Infrared Spectroscopic (ATR-FTIR) to study the molecular conformation of parchment artifacts in different macroscopic states Applied Spectroscopy. HANSEN, E.F., S.N. LEE & H. SOBEL. 1992. The effects of relative humidity on some physical properties of modern vellum. Implications for the optimum relative humidity for the display and storage of parchment. Journal of American Institute of Conservation 31: 325-42. KAUTEK, W., S. PENTZIENA, M. RÖLLIGA, P. RUDOLPHA, J. KRÜGERA, C. MAYWALD-PITELLOS, H. BANSAB, H. GRÖSSWANG & E. KÖNIGD. 2000. Near-UV laser interaction with contaminants and pigments on parchment: 5815 P laser cleaning diagnostics by SE-microscopy, VIS-, and IR-spectroscopy. Journal of Cultural Heritage 1: 233-40. KENNEDY, C.J., J.C. HILLER, M. ODLYHA, K. NIELSEN, M. DRAKOPOULOS & T.J. WESS. 2002. Degradation in historical parchments. Papier Restaurierung 3: 23-30. KENNEDY, C.J., M. VEST, M. COOPER & T.J. WESS. 2004. Laser cleaning of parchment: structural, thermal and biochemical studies into the effect of wavelength and fluence. Applied Surface Science 227: 151-63. LARSEN, R. 2007. Introduction to damage and damage assessment of parchment, in R. LARSEN (ed.) In improved damage assessment of parchment: 17-21. Brussels: Office for the Official Publication of the European Communities. LARSEN, R. (ed.) 2002. Microanalysis of parchment. London: Archetype Publications Ltd. REED, R. 1972. Ancient skins, parchments and leathers. New York: Seminar Press. - 1975. The nature and making of parchment. Leeds: Elmete Press. RYDER, M.L. 1964. Parchment- its history, manufacture and composition. Society of Archivists 2. YAKIMETS, I., S.S. PAES, N. WELLNER, A.C. SMITH, R.H. WILSON & J.R. MITCHELL. 2007. Effect of water content on the structural reorganization and elastic properties of biopolymer films: a comparative study. Biomacromolecules 8: 1710-22. Parker, Arthur Caswell Chip Colwell-Chanthaphonh Denver Museum of Nature & Science, Denver, CO, USA Basic Biographical Information Arthur Caswell Parker (1881–1955) was the first Native American to become a professional archaeologist. He led an often contentious but ultimately successful career as an archaeologist and museologist in New York for more than five decades. Born on the Cattaraugus Reservation in western New York, Parker firmly considered himself to be a Seneca Indian of the Iroquois (Haudenosaunee) nations. However, Parker’s mother, Geneva Hortense Griswold, was originally from Connecticut and of English and P P 5816 Scottish ancestry. In 1879, Geneva married Arthur’s father, Frederick Ely Parker, who was descended from a line of prominent Senecas, though his own mother was also Anglo. As a result, Parker’s identity was ambiguous because the Seneca trace descent matrilineally while the US government traces descent patrilineally, although Parker was formally adopted into a clan and given the name Gawasowaneh in 1903. Parker lived on the Cattaraugus Reservation until 1892, when his family moved to White Plains, a suburb of New York City. Eventually, Parker found his way to the American Museum of Natural History, where he befriended Frederic W. Putnam, then one of the luminaries of American anthropology. Parker became one of the “Putnam Boys” – which also included M. Raymond Harrington, Alanson B. Skinner, and John W. Fenton – a handpicked group of promising young students. In 1899, Parker was hired on an occasional basis at the American Museum as an “archaeological assistant.” In 1903, Putnam invited him and Harrington to lead an archaeological expedition under the auspices of the Peabody Museum at Harvard University. As codirectors, Parker and Harrington productively excavated the Silverheels Site on the Cattaraugus Reservation. This experience led Parker to quit college at Dickson Seminary, to pursue a career in archaeology. After several difficult years of temporary jobs, Parker became the first New York State archaeologist in 1906. In this role, he published widely on Iroquois ethnography (e.g., Parker 1910, 1923) but also conducted original archaeological research, focusing principally on developing a culture history of New York. Parker greatly expanded the collections of the New York State Museum and produced one of the first major scientific compendiums of the state’s ancient past (Parker 1922). Parker was also involved during this period in political advocacy, campaigning for a pan-Indian nationalism, through the Society of the American Indian (Berg 2000). In 1924, Parker resigned from his state position and became the director Parker, Arthur Caswell of the Rochester City Museum. He thrived in this position, remaking the institution into the Rochester Museum of Arts and Sciences, although his administrative duties required that he reduce fieldwork and archaeological research. Parker retired in 1945, but continued writing and publishing (e.g., Parker 1952). He died in 1955, suddenly, from a heart attack. Major Accomplishments Although Parker did make noteworthy contributions to the archaeology of New York (Sullivan 1992), he is principally known today for his accomplishments as a museum archaeologist, a passionate advocate for scientific archaeology, and a promoter for the protection of archaeological resources. His early diorama exhibits were long considered as setting the standard for the industry, and he is credited with coining the term “museology.” Parker often directly involved the public in research activities, shared the results of archaeology with the public, and published for myriad public audiences, including children (e.g., Parker 1928). Parker was also intensely involved in protecting archaeological sites, particularly from looters and casual avocational excavators (e.g., Parker 1938). Parker’s other major accomplishment was his novel ability, as a self-identified Native American, to have a fruitful career in archaeology during a period in which few ethnic minorities could participate in the sciences. Despite the bias and bigotry he faced, Parker reached some of the highest offices in the field: Parker served as vice president of the American Association of Museums (1927) and president of the New York State Archaeological Association (1932), Society for American Archaeology (1935), and New York State Historical Association (1945). He became a fellow of the Royal Society of Arts and also the American Association for the Advancement of Science and received numerous awards and honorary degrees. Parker’s successes Parks Canada: Historical Archaeology as a professional archaeologist demonstrated more than a century ago that Native Americans could contribute, significantly, to the field. Cross-References ▶ Cultural Landscapes: Conservation and Preservation ▶ Indigenous Archaeologies ▶ Heritage Museums and the Public ▶ North America (USA and Canada): Museums ▶ Society for American Archaeology (SAA) 5817 P Parks Canada: Historical Archaeology E. Gwyn Langemann Cultural Sciences, Parks Canada Agency, Calgary, AB, Canada Basic Information Parks Canada National Office 25-7-N Eddy Street Gatineau, Quebec K1A 0 M5, Canada http://www.pc.gc.ca/eng/progs/arch/index.aspx References Major Impact BERG, S. C. 2000. Arthur C. Parker and the Society of the American Indian, 1911-1916. New York History 81: 237-246. PARKER, A. C. 1910. Iroquois uses of maise and other food grains. New York State Museum Bulletin 144. - 1922. The archaeological history of New York. Albany: University of the State of New York. - 1923. Seneca myths and folk tales. Buffalo: Buffalo Historical Society. - 1928. Rumbling wings and other Indian tales. Garden City: Doubleday. - 1938. Indians versus pot-hunters. American Antiquity 3: 267-268. - 1952. Red Jacket, last of the Seneca. New York: McGraw-Hill. SULLIVAN, L. P. 1992. Arthur C. Parker’s contribution to New York state archaeology. The Bulletin: Journal of the New York State Archaeological Association 104: 3-8. Further Reading COLWELL-CHANTHAPHONH, C. 2009. Inheriting the past: the making of Arthur C. Parker and indigenous archaeology. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. HERTZBERG, H. W. 1979. Nationality, anthropology, and pan-Indianism in the life of Arthur C. Parker (Seneca). Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society 123: 47-72. PORTER, J. 2001. To be Indian: the life of Iroquois-Seneca Arthur Caswell Parker. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. ZELLER, T. 1987. Arthur C. Parker: a pioneer in American museums. Curator 30: 41-62. Parks Canada is the primary institution conducting historical and underwater archaeology in Canada. It has been honored by the Society for Historical Archaeology for single-handedly establishing the discipline of historical archaeology for an entire nation. Parks Canada is the federal government agency responsible for national parks, national historic sites (NHS), and national marine conservation areas throughout Canada. Historical archaeology research, on land and underwater, supports cultural resource management (CRM) at historic sites within the national parks and at operating NHS and supports the Historic Sites and Monuments Board of Canada, the federal advisory board responsible for identifying places, persons, and events of national historic significance. Since the formation of regional offices in 1963, specialist archaeological, curatorial, and conservation staff have been stationed in Ottawa, in four regional service centers and at the Fortress of Louisbourg NHS. In 2012, however, Parks Canada began a significant reorganization that will centralize a reduced cultural service function in Ottawa. Historical archaeology at Parks Canada began in 1961, when archaeologists were needed for the applied research behind an ambitious program of P P 5818 Parks Canada: Historical Archaeology Parks Canada: Historical Archaeology, Fig. 1 Video 3D laser survey of Fort Conger NHS, showing the remains of the 1881 station built by Greely to house the Lady Franklin Bay Expedition on Ellesmere Island, Quttinirpaaq National Park (Courtesy of Margaret Bertulli (Parks Canada), Peter Dawson and Richard Levy (University of Calgary), and Chris Tucker (Point Geomatics Ltd.). For more information about the NHS, please see http:// www.pc.gc.ca/eng/pn-np/ nu/quttinirpaaq/natcul/ natcul6.aspx) restoration and interpretive projects in an expanding park system. A separate Fortress of Louisbourg restoration section was also created to support a monumental reconstruction of the eighteenth century fortified townsite. The archaeologists rapidly developed research skills and material culture expertise that were not found elsewhere in the country. Canada’s centennial in 1967 was a time of optimism and growing public interest in heritage conservation. The restoration projects of the 1960s and 1970s were at NHS chosen to reinforce national identity, create employment in the regions, and support a historical narrative of social and economic progress. For example, Castle Hill, the Halifax Citadel, Fort Beausejour, and Fort Lennox spoke to the battles of the colonial period. Les Forges du Saint-Maurice spoke to early industrial history and Fort Wellington to the War of 1812. Lower Fort Garry, Rocky Mountain House, and Fort Langley spoke to the expansion of the fur trade into Western Canada. The Nuu-chah-nulth village of Yuquot on Vancouver Island spoke to the first contacts between a thriving First Nation and European explorers in the late 1700s. Since then, NHS commemoration has changed in emphasis from reconstructing buildings as the centerpiece of a relict landscape, frozen at one point in historic time, to valuing structures and artifacts for their witness to the evolution of a cultural landscape over time. In the national parks, archaeology is integrated with an array of resource management interests, seeing human presence as part of an ongoing ecological relationship, with historic sites as only the most recent layer. Parks Canada also has a strong national presence in precontact period archaeology, and often the line between historical and precontact archaeology is blurred. This is particularly true in the large western and northern parks established under modern aboriginal treaty provisions, where traditional land use continues, and CRM is a joint responsibility with First Nations. Recent historical archaeology projects emphasize visitor experience and public education, as well as research. An excavation at the early seventeenth century Saint-Louis Forts and Châteaux was visited by thousands during Québec City’s 400th anniversary celebrations. A 3D laser survey of Fort Conger NHS, at the northern tip of Ellesmere Island, provided a detailed virtual rendering, so the public can experience an otherwise inaccessible site (Fig. 1). Public archaeology projects run at the Parthenon (Elgin) Marbles: Case Study Acadian farmsteads of Beaubassin and the Bar U Ranch. Increasingly, work at historic sites is salvage in nature, responding to threats of erosion from changes in sea level on subsiding coastlines (e.g., at the Fortress of Louisbourg) or from melting permafrost and riverbank erosion (York Factory and Fort Prince of Wales in the Arctic). Parks Canada has an internationally renowned underwater archaeology unit. Since 1965, archaeologists have undertaken a wide range of inventory, CRM, and research projects. The most extensive have been an investigation of nine different vessels at the sixteenth century Basque whaling settlement at Red Bay, Labrador, and recent searches in Arctic waters for the Erebus and Terror, the lost ships of the Franklin expedition, and McClure’s Investigator, abandoned in 1853 during the search for Franklin. Cross-References ▶ Canada: Cultural Heritage Management and First Nations ▶ Canada: Cultural Heritage Management ▶ Canada: World Heritage Further Reading FRY, B.W. 1984. “An appearance of strength”: the fortifications of Louisbourg (2 vols.) (Studies in Archaeology, Architecture and History). Ottawa: Parks Canada. GRENIER, R., M-A. BERNIER & W. STEVENS. (ed.) 2007. The underwater archaeology of Red Bay: Basque shipbuilding and whaling in the Sixteenth Century (5 vols.). Ottawa: Parks Canada. KLIMKO, O. 1998. Nationalism and the growth of fur trade archaeology in western Canada, in P. J. Smith & D. Mitchell (ed.) Bringing back the past: historical perspectives on Canadian archaeology: (Archaeological Survey of Canada, Mercury series 158): 203-13. Hull: Canadian Museum of Civilization. LANGEMANN, E.G. 2011. Archaeology in the Rocky Mountain national parks, in C. E. Campbell (ed.) A century of Parks Canada, 1911 – 2011: 303-31. Calgary: University of Calgary Press. 5819 P PARKS CANADA. 2012. Archaeology excavations and projects at a glance. Available at: http://www.pc.gc. ca/eng/progs/arch/proj.aspx Aussi disponible en français http://www.pc.gc.ca/fra/progs/arch/proj.aspx RICK, J. 1970. Archaeological investigations of the National historic sites Service, 1962-1966, in Canadian historic sites: occasional papers in archaeology and history 1: 10-42. Ottawa: National Historic Sites Service, National and Historic Parks Branch, Department of Indian Affairs and Northern Development. Parthenon (Elgin) Marbles: Case Study Eleni Stefanou Unit of Rhodes, University of the Aegean, Rhodes, Greece Introduction The Parthenon (Elgin) Marbles are a group of marble sculptures from the Athenian Acropolis owned since 1816 by the British Museum. They have gained twofold significance, as pieces that encompass the glory of classical Greece and as perhaps the most famous case related to the issue of repatriation of material culture up to now. For more than 200 years, they have been appropriated as signifiers of identity by Britain and Greece and have been one of the most pervasive national claims by the Greek governments. Definition The “Elgin Marbles,” as the British Museum is obliged by statute to refer to this group of artifacts since their acquisition in 1816 (Hitchens et al. 1997: viii, 17, 43), or the “Parthenon Marbles,” as the Greek official national rhetoric addresses them (Yalouri 2001: 97-8), are a group of marble sculptures, statues, inscriptions, and architectural members that, between 1801 and 1802, were removed from the Athenian Acropolis, at the time under Ottoman occupation, by the Seventh P P 5820 Earl of Elgin, Thomas Bruce (Greenfield 1996: 330, Hitchens et al. 1997; Hamilakis 2007). The most renowned group of these artifacts is the ensemble of the marble sculptures which belonged to the fifth-century BCE Parthenon Temple that depict mostly scenes from the Greek mythology. Almost half of its sculptures are currently displayed in the British Museum and the other half in New Acropolis Museum of Athens. In addition, fragments from the Parthenon sculptures can be found also in other museums, in France, Denmark, Germany, Austria, France, and Italy (Greenfield 1996). The monument’s fragmentation has been the issue of intense ongoing debates, and the Parthenon (Elgin) Marbles are firmly entangled with the demand of the repatriation of cultural heritage. Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples Repatriation of cultural heritage is not an easy to tackle issue, as it is connected to the question “who owns cultural heritage?” Is it the nation and its subjects? Is it individual collectors? Is it local communities? Museums? Or humanity at large? The answer is rather complicated, especially because in the case of the Parthenon (Elgin) Marbles, the international conventions for the protection of cultural heritage (the Hague Convention of 1954, the UNESCO Convention of 1970, and the UNIDROIT Convention of 1995) do not apply, as the Parthenon (Elgin) Marbles were acquired before the conventions’ inception. Therefore, it is necessary to look into the historical dimensions of the debate, especially the context of the Marbles’ removal from the Athenian Parthenon in the era of British colonialism, and reflect on the history of collecting which formed the modus operandi of many contemporary world museums (Curtis 2006: 118). Classical art offered to the British Empire a sense of rebranding through culture (Greenland in press: 3), because the aesthetic values through which it was viewed were thought to signify harmony, morality, and excellence, virtues that perfectly suited upper-class Britain. Thomas Parthenon (Elgin) Marbles: Case Study Bruce, as the British Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire (1799–1803), benefitted from the auspicious British-Ottoman political relationships that were developed during the French-Turkish war, when Britain became an ally of the Ottoman Empire rivalling France on a political, military, and cultural level (Greenfield 1996: 335). The acquisition of the Elgin marbles, with a controversial permit obtained from the Ottoman administration, was for the British a matter of power and authority vested with cultural connotations. British imperialism was thus ascertained through the projection of Britain as the successor of classical Athens that managed to rescue the classical material culture from destruction (Greenfield 1996: 337). The fact that a foreign culture was being appropriated by the British imperialist narrative did not seem to be at odds with the national and supranational sentiments at the time (Greenland in press: 6). That is exactly because the Parthenon (Elgin) Marbles were deemed as pre-national, having been created prior to nation-states by a culture with a sociopolitical formation different to that of the Nation (Greenland in press). Hence, the Parthenon (Elgin) Marbles were considered cultural products of a long lost civilization, the remnants of which were only ruins found in the then Ottoman-occupied Athens. This ambiguous state of being enabled them to acquire a dual subsistence by belonging to no one in particular and simultaneously to everyone. This universalist approach is in absolute synch with the concept of the universal museum, that is, the encyclopedic museum, which presents itself as a representative of the whole humanity (Cuno 2006; 2011). Encyclopedic museums, the British Museum among them, are thought to promote diversity of world cultures and the “spectacular” art that is mankind’s common heritage. As stated in the website of the British museum, “the Museum is a unique resource for the world: the breadth and depth of its collection allows a world-wide public to re-examine cultural identities and explore the complex network of interconnected human cultures. The Parthenon Sculptures are a vital element in this interconnected world collection. They are a part Parthenon (Elgin) Marbles: Case Study of the world’s shared heritage and transcend political boundaries” (the British Museum n.d.). Supranational narratives are the core of the encyclopedic museums, which are rendered world museums. Regarding the Parthenon (Elgin) Marbles, the British Museum shapes its argument by drawing on the fact that their fragments exist divided in museums of eight countries in total (Hitchens et al. 1997: 109-115; Hamilakis 2007; Greenland in press), which supposedly enables different stories to be told. This argument reproduces the nineteenth-century British narrative and colonial ideas about the universalism of culture, while it adeptly overcomes the issue of the monument’s fragmentation. Nonetheless, the Marbles also elevate the position of the British Museum as a world museum, where high art can be admired by visitors from all over the world, art with no nationality but with supranational world significance. That is precisely the argument employed against claims for the repatriation of the Parthenon (Elgin) Marbles, as the term “world heritage” overrules other claims of ownership (national claims, as far as the Marbles are concerned) and repatriation, validating their retention in the British Museum (Simpson 2005: 253-4). Yet, Greek demands for the repatriation of the Parthenon (Elgin) Marbles began right after the formation of the independent Greek nation-state, in 1830, striving to confirm homogeneity and continuity between ancient and modern Greece. In this process, classical antiquities acquired nationality and were the driving force towards the construction of a coherent national identity. The assertion of direct lineage with classical Greece allowed Greek governments to demand the exclusive ownership of antiquities, the materiality of which provided the newly founded nation-state with strong visual images, recognizable among the European elites. Eventually, the Acropolis was inscribed on the World Heritage list in 1987, described as “Illustrating the civilizations, myths and religions that flourished in Greece over a period of more than 1,000 years, the Acropolis, the site of four of the greatest masterpieces of classical Greek art – the Parthenon, the Propylaea, the Erechtheum and 5821 P the Temple of Athena Nike – can be seen as symbolizing the idea of world heritage” (UNESCO 1988). Over the years, there have been many occasions which signified the resurgence of the demand for the Marbles’ repatriation, starting with the speech of the then Minister of Culture Mrs. Melina Mercouri at the World Conference on Cultural Policies (Mexico City, 29 July 1982) organized by UNESCO, reaching their peak in 2004 when Greece hosted the 2004 Olympic Games, as well as in 2009 when the New Acropolis Museum was inaugurated, and in 2012 when the Ministry of Culture and Tourism established an Advisory Committee in order to proceed with a planning strategy towards the return of the Parthenon Marbles and the fulfillment of this national goal (Greek Ministry of Culture, 19/09/ 2012). Apart from the claims of ownership, another powerful argument is the unification of the monument itself, the cultural biography of which continues being fragmented. The fact that the Parthenon (Elgin) Marbles, once returned to Greece, will be put on display in the New Acropolis Museum and not on the Parthenon itself does not weaken the sense of the monument’s reunification, as the visual contact and close proximity of the sculptures to the monument would create a materially contingent ensemble. The desire for reunification is clearly expressed within the New Acropolis Museum, where the demand for the repatriation of the Parthenon (Elgin) Marbles is transformed into a physical experience, as the visitor is called to engage with the notion of void and absence. Empty spaces are left to indicate the missing pieces, most of which are displayed in the Duveen Gallery of the British Museum. While this is not the space to discuss the museological parameters of the Marbles’ display in the British Museum or the symbolic use of space behind the architectural construction of the New Acropolis Museum, it is noteworthy that the New Acropolis Museum achieved to display a collection which it does not possess (Lending 2009: 572). Absence is not just spatially denoted but also discursively constructed through the prevailing P P 5822 narrative in the Greek press, around the time of the New Acropolis Museum’s inauguration, which ascribes human qualities to the Parthenon sculptures on display. The sculptures appear to talk, to cry out, to yearn, to hurt, to call their abducted siblings in London, in an obvious attempt to “speak the same language” as the visitors. The personification of antiquities and the attribution of human characteristics and emotions to the museum exhibits facilitate the process of familiarizing subjects (visitors) and objects (sculptures), process which consolidates their meanings to the point of idealization. Unification demands are further reinforced through the sense of victimization and trauma, since the sculptures are presented in the Greek press with attributes of wounded humans. Words such as fragmented, dismembered, and wounds, and references to destruction, looting, and rape, emotionally charge the communication between the public and the past emphasizing on the unfulfilled claim for the Parthenon (Elgin) Marbles’ repatriation (Stefanou in press). There is a number of national and international committees for the reunification of the Parthenon sculptures (International Association for the Reunification of the Parthenon Sculptures n.d.), from the British Committee for the Restitution of the Parthenon Marbles to the most recent one founded in Greece in September 2012 by the Ministry of Culture, which was established to persistently pursue the return of Parthenon Marbles. Movements in favor of the Marbles’ repatriation do not only stem from official agents, as various protests are held from time to time outside the British Museum, with the last one held on 20 October 2012 by the Cypriot Students’ Union and the “I AM GREEK AND I WANT TO GO HOME” Independent Voluntary Movement for the Repatriation of Looted Greek Antiquities. The main issue at stake now is whether the Parthenon (Elgin) Marbles should continue being on display in the universal British Museum, treated as aestheticized masterpieces of world art, or whether they should be recontextualized by returning to Athens in order to be displayed in the New Acropolis Museum. Parthenon (Elgin) Marbles: Case Study Cross-References ▶ Classical Greece, Archaeology of (c. 490–323 BCE) ▶ Classical (Greek) Archaeology ▶ Cross-Cultural Interaction in the Greek World: Culture Contact Issues and Theories ▶ Elgin, Lord Thomas Bruce ▶ Greece: Cultural Heritage Management ▶ Heritage & Society ▶ Heritage and Archaeology ▶ Heritage and the Need for Theory ▶ Heritage Museums and the Public ▶ Heritage: History and Context ▶ Religion, Greek, Archaeology of References THE BRITISH MUSEUM. n. d. Available at: http://www. britishmuseum.org/about_us/news_and_press/statements/ parthenon_sculptures.aspx (accessed 31 October 2012). CUNO, J. 2006. View from the universal museum, in J. H. Merryman (ed.) Imperialism, art, and restitution: 15-36. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. - 2011. Museums matter: in praise of the encyclopaedic museum. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. CURTIS, N. G. W. 2006. Universal museums, museum objects and repatriation: the tangled stories of things. Museum Management and Curatorship 21(2): 117-27. GREEK MINISTRY OF CULTURE. n. d. Available at: http:// www.yppo.gr/2/g22.jsp?obj_id¼51873 (accessed 31 October 2012). GREENFIELD, J. 1996. The return of cultural treasures. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. HAMILAKIS, Y. 2007. The nation and its ruins: antiquity, archaeology, and national imagination in Greece. New York: Oxford University Press. HITCHENS, C., R. BROWNING & G. BINNS. (ed.) 1997. The Elgin Marbles: should they be returned to Greece? London: Verso. INTERNATIONAL ASSOCIATION FOR THE REUNIFICATION OF THE PARTHENON SCULPTURES. n. d. Available at: http://www. parthenoninternational.org/ (accessed 31 October 2012). LENDING, M. 2009. Negotiating absence: Bernard Tschumi’s new Acropolis museum in Athens. The Journal of Architecture 14(5): 567-89. ROSE - GREENLAND, F. (in press, 2013). The Parthenon Marbles as icons of nationalism in 19th century Britain: from pre-national to supra-national. Paper in press by Nations and Nationalism. SIMPSON, M. 2005. Museums, world heritage, and interpretation: the case of the Parthenon Marbles, in E. Close, M. Tsianikas & G. Frazis (ed.) Greek research in Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Archaeological Investigations 5823 P Australia: proceedings of the Biennial International Conference of Greek Studies, Flinders University April 2003: 241-62. Adelaide: Flinders University Department of Languages - Modern Greek. STEFANOU, E. (in press, 2012). To Nēo Mousı̄o Acrōpolis ston Kuriakātiko Athenaikō Tūpo [The New Acropolis Museum in the Athens Sunday Press]. Proceedings of the International Symposium “Museums 11: Acropolis Museum, Ideology, Museology, Architecture” (in Greek). UNITED NATIONS EDUCATIONAL, SCIENTIFIC, AND CULTURAL ORGANIZATION. 1988. Inscription: the Acropolis, Athens (Greece). 11COM VIIIA. Paris, 20 January 1988. Available at: http://whc.unesco.org/en/ decisions/3727 (accessed 31 October 2012). YALOURI, E. 2001. The Acropolis: global fame, local claim. Oxford: Berg. Further Reading CHALLIS, D. 2006. The Parthenon sculptures: emblems of British national identity. British Art Journal VII(1): 37-43. HAMILAKIS, Y. 1999. Stories from exile: fragments from the cultural biography of the Parthenon (or ‘Elgin’) Marbles. World Archaeology 31(2): 303-20. HITCHENS, C. 2008. The Parthenon Marbles: the case for unification. London: Verso. MERRYMAN, J. H. 2009. Thinking about the Elgin Marbles: critical essays on cultural property, art, and law. Alphen aan den Rijn: Kluwer Law International. PLANTZOS, D. 2011. Behold the raking geison: the new Acropolis Museum and its context-free archaeologies. Antiquity 85: 613-30. Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Archaeological Investigations Charlotte Roberts Department of Archaeology, Durham University, Durham, UK Introduction and Definition The World Health Organization defines health as “a state of complete physical, mental and social well-being and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity.” This definition has not been amended since 1948 (http://www.who.int/ suggestions/faq/en/, accessed October 2011). Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Archaeological Investigations, Fig. 1 Sculpture showing possible tumor on left eye This of course is a definition that relates to living populations but could be equally applied to the past. Being unhealthy today compromises normal life and the very function of society; this would have been true for our ancestors all over the world. How can we study our ancestors’ health? It is possible to access information pertinent to health and disease in the past by studying historical documents describing disease, and viewing artistic representations of disease in particular periods in time (e.g., Fig. 1). In prehistoric times, these types of evidence are relatively nonexistent and they are more useful for more recent periods, for example, the medieval period in Europe. Our primary form of evidence for disease and injury in the past comes from human remains excavated from cemeteries and other funerary contexts dating from when the earliest humans appeared on the planet (Fig. 2). This study is named “palaeopathology” and is defined as the study of disease in the remains of both human and nonhuman remains, as first defined by Marc P P 5824 Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Archaeological Investigations Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Archaeological Investigations, Fig. 2 Medieval cemetery excavation Armand Ruffer in 1910 (Aufderheide & Rodrı́guez Martı́n 1998). It is a subdiscipline of “physical or biological anthropology” which, in turn, is a part of the discipline of “Anthropology” (Roberts & Manchester 2010; Buikstra & Roberts 2012). The Paleopathology Association provides the infrastructure for people working in this field, an Association based in the United States that has its origins in 1973 (http://www.paleopathology. org/ While most work in the early history of palaeopathological study was on animal remains, now there is much more work focused on humans rather than other animals. Much of the early (human) work concentrated on evidence of disease in individual skeletons (“case studies”), but over the last 50 or so years there has been much more of a trend toward looking at “population” health and the consideration of larger groups of skeletons from specific funerary contexts (e.g., see deWitte & Bekvalac 2010). However, “Case studies” can provide invaluable information about the presence of a disease in a particular geographic context and time period, but the data cannot be applied to understand general population health in that place and/or time (e.g., see LeFort & Bennike 2007). In more recent times there has also been a focus on bringing together large amounts of data to study the history of specific diseases, and the application of newly developed methods to diagnosing disease in human remains (see below). Most human remains that palaeopathologists study consist of skeletons, and therefore any disease that only affects the soft tissues of the body will not be seen, unless more advanced analytical techniques are used, for example, ancient pathogen DNA analysis. Not only are historical documents and artistic representations in this instance invaluable to access information about diseases that do not affect the skeleton, pathogen DNA analysis is starting to detect those soft tissue diseases. A key factor to remember in utilizing the evidence of disease in human remains to reconstruct the origin, evolution, and history of disease is to place the data in archaeological context, termed the bioarchaeological approach (Buikstra & Beck 2006). For example, if there is evidence on ribs of a high rate of respiratory infection in a population then it is essential to explore what type of living conditions the population had, how many people lived in the community and its density, and whether the housing conditions would have predisposed to transmission of the infection. By using archaeological evidence of settlements and housing, it is possible to assess how living conditions prevented or put at risk the community’s inhabitants. Using a bioarchaeological approach is the key to understanding why and when Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Archaeological Investigations diseases appeared in populations at specific times. It also enables a “themed” approach to be taken, by concentrating on using the pathological evidence to discuss particular “themes” such as diet and economy, work, indoor, and outdoor living environment, access to health care, and the impact of age, sex, gender, ethnicity, social status, migration, and climate on health within those broad themes (Roberts 2009: Chap. 6). Palaeopathology is a thriving discipline. It contributes the time depth to studying disease that medical doctors today cannot hope to achieve when diagnosing and treating patients with disease over relatively short time periods. It also provides data on how bones and teeth are affected in disease, and sometimes the pathological changes recognized in skeletal remains are invisible to doctors today because the changes are too subtle to even detect with radiographic techniques (e.g., Lambert 2002). 5825 P Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Archaeological Investigations, Fig. 3 Dental caries in a molar tooth (Courtesy of Anwen Caffell) Key Issues How Are Pathological Conditions Studied in the Archaeological Record? The focus now is on skeletal remains. Disease is recognized in the skeleton by bone formation and bone destruction, or a mixture of the two. Teeth may also be destroyed, for example, in dental caries (Fig. 3), and dental disease can be accompanied by bone formation and destruction in the jaw bones. Bone formed may be classified as “woven” or lamellar” (Figs. 4, 5). In the former, the bone is immature, porous, and disorganized, indicating the disease process was active at the time of death of the person; the latter is smoother and more organized and indicates the person survived for some time with a disease such that the initial woven bone was transformed into healed lamellar bone. Lamellar bone indicates evidence for chronic disease. These changes are recorded for each skeleton and then their distribution pattern considered, bearing in mind that not all skeletons are completely preserved. It is known in the clinical record that diseases affect the skeleton differently. For example, the autoimmune disease rheumatoid arthritis affects the synovial Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Archaeological Investigations, Fig. 4 Woven bone formation on calcaneum, or heel bone Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Archaeological Investigations, Fig. 5 Lamellar bone formation on long bone P P 5826 Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Archaeological Investigations joints of the neck vertebrae, and of the hands, feet, shoulders, elbows, wrists, and knees, symmetrically (Resnick 1995), and in the bacterial infection tuberculosis, destructive lesions of the lower spine, hip, and knee joints are most commonly seen. Differential diagnosis for lesions detected in each skeleton must be discussed because the skeleton can only be affected by disease in a limited number of ways (bone destruction or formation); so several diseases may be possible diagnoses for the bone lesions seen, especially if the skeleton is fragmentary. However, while there are clinical data that provide these characteristic bone changes and distributions for each bone disease, it has to be assumed that the changes and their skeletal distribution have not changed throughout time. Standards for palaeopathological data collection have been developed so that data are collected in the same way by all palaeopathologists; this means that valid comparisons of data can be done (Buikstra & Ubelaker 1994; Brickley & McKinley 2004). Other methods of diagnosing disease in skeletal remains are also used, including histological, radiographic, and biomolecular analyses, and it is the data derived using these methods that are developing more nuanced diagnoses and interpretations that are having an impact on our further understanding of the history of disease. Following collection of the data, disease frequency rates are produced and, by linking these rates to contextual data from each site, this will show how common or how rare certain diseases were for that population compared to others, perhaps of the same time period and geographic region, but also for different time periods and regions. For example, studies of fractures to bones of people who lived in Medieval British urban contexts varied from 0.3 % to 6.1 % of the total bones examined for each of six sites, with the highest rate being seen in London and the lowest at a site in Scotland. Thus, it can be seen that, even in the same context, injury rates can vary and this will be related to similar and different risk factors specific to particular sites and regions. Along with using archaeological data, to interpret the disease patterns seen, contemporary medical historical information may be available. Palaeopathologists are also increasingly using medical anthropological research to inform their findings, medical anthropology being the study of health and disease often in traditional living communities and usually in developing countries. They are also beginning to work alongside scholars from evolutionary medicine (e.g., Trevathan et al. 2008), a discipline that will benefit more and more from the deep time approach of palaeopathology. What Are the Limitations to Palaeopathology? Wood and colleagues’ “Osteological Paradox” paper (1992) provided an opportunity for palaeopathologists to reflect on their discipline, a paper that is as relevant today as it was then. They highlighted a number of problems with inferring health from the skeleton: the impact of the state of preservation of the skeleton on what can be recorded, the fact that soft tissue diseases cannot be detected, that people may have died before bone changes could occur, that often small samples of skeletons were being studied and their representation of the living population was questionable, and that there was a focus on individual skeletons rather than larger skeletal samples. They also emphasized that those with evidence of disease were the “healthy” people, i.e., those who had survived the acute stages of a disease and lived long enough for bone changes to occur and become “healed” mature bone. They furthermore pointed out that it was not possible to detect individual variation in risk of disease and death using skeletal samples, and that the sample studied had undergone selective mortality, i.e., they were the dead part of the original living population – so how representative of the living were they? Other factors to be considered was the nonstationary nature of populations (in- and outmigration), the lack of nonadults in most samples (thus negating much inference about the health of that portion of society), the subjective nature of ageing adults and the problem of estimating sex Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Archaeological Investigations of nonadults, the lack of information about cause of death (it is only possible to suggest what people suffered during life), that pathological bones are fragile and may deteriorate in the ground and not be excavated or analyzed, and that it was important to be able to detect postmortem changes versus pathological ones, and also skeletal characteristics that represent normal variation. This long list perhaps suggests that there is not much point in spending too much time on palaeopathology but, while Wood et al. (1992) is still very current and is required reading for all palaeopathologists, there have been developments that have addressed some of their concerns. Those developments include emphasizing the importance of providing true prevalence rates for disease, i.e., how many bones or teeth observed have changes attributable to specific disease processes, which can account for poor preservation of skeletal remains (see Roberts & Manchester 2010: 9-10). Bayesian analyses are also helping to more accurately reflect the ages of adults. The increase in ancient pathogen DNA analysis to detect and diagnose disease in skeletal remains means that soft tissue diseases can potentially be identified. DNA analysis in the living can also provide an indicator of genetic risk of disease; it is anticipated that this is an area that could see development in bioarchaeology. DNA analysis can also be used to estimate the sex of nonadult remains. Larger sample sizes are also now studied which means that the data on disease are, in theory, more representative of the disease experience of the general population. Furthermore, stable isotope analysis to explore mobility in bioarchaeology will increasingly provide information on how mobile people were in the past and whether that mobility could have potentially affected the demographic and morbidity profiles of a dead population being analyzed. Additionally, there has in recent years been more of a focus on the juvenile part of the archaeological past which has led to the seeking out of cemetery samples that represent that section of society. Better training of bioarchaeologists has also led to the more reliable differentiation of 5827 P antemortem, perimortem, and postmortem skeletal changes, although poor preservation of pathological bones remains a challenge. Past and Current Work, Including Debates Initially, most work in palaeopathology consisted of “case studies,” as discussed above, which is still the case, although population based work is much more common. Some parts of the world have contributed exponentially more information about palaeopathology than others, for example the United States and United Kingdom. “Case” and “Population” studies both have their part to play in palaeopathology, but it is the latter that provides a broader view of past health at the population level. In addition to studies of individual and population health from around the world, there have been some studies of health through time in particular countries or continents. In many of these broader studies there appears to have been a decline in health through time as societies became more complex. Palaeopathological studies now frequently aim to answer specific questions or test hypotheses about health, based on what is known about the prehistory or history of a specific population or place; this might be to consider the effect of a transition such as from hunting and gathering to agriculture or from rural to urban living. Scholars have also focused on specific diseases to explore their origins and histories, often using a range of disciplines to come to conclusions. Finally, and increasingly, palaeopathologists are using a suite of analytical methods to generate data on health that was simply not possible before these methods were used. For example, as discussed above, ancient pathogen DNA analysis since 1994 has allowed scholars to diagnose soft tissue diseases, diagnose disease when the person died before bone changes could occur, and even more recently explore the origin and evolution of the organism that caused the bone changes. Stable isotope analyses for diet and mobility are also making it possible to link disease with diet and mobility to assess their impacts on whether P P 5828 Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Archaeological Investigations a person or population contracted disease. Advances in imaging and histological techniques are adding to the methods used for disease diagnosis and, furthermore, palaeopathology utilizes archaeological and historical contextual data to interpret biological data for disease much more than in its early years. There remain debates about the validity and ethics of doing destructive analyses of precious skeletal remains, whether data emanating from aDNA analyses are verifiable, and about the origin of diseases (e.g., venereal syphilis). Cross-References Future Directions References As destructive analyses increase in bioarchaeology while scholars strive to discover more about their ancestors’ health, there is increasing repatriation and reburial of skeletal remains around the world (Roberts 2009: Chap. 2). However, it is without doubt that these destructive techniques will continue to be used, and for ancient pathogen DNA analysis there are now studies focusing on the evolution of organisms. However, basic macroscopic data collection will remain the mainstay of palaeopathology because, without it, there is no possibility of interpreting the data derived from those destructive analyses. Furthermore, more advanced analytical techniques are expensive and most scholars do not have access to either the facilities or the money to do them. With increased repatriation and reburial, it is imperative that skeletal collections are used more widely than is currently the case and databases of curated collections should become established (see Roberts & Mays 2011). It is also without doubt that the trend is to look at the big picture of past health whereby very large datasets are being collected which provide a much more nuanced view of health over long periods of time and large areas of the world, as seen in the Global History of Health Project (http://global.sbs.ohiostate.edu/). Palaeopathology has provided a wealth of information about the health of our ancestors through their remains but there is much more to come in the future. AUFDERHEIDE, A.C. & C. RODRIGUEZ MARTIN. 1998. The Cambridge encyclopedia of paleopathology. Cambridge: University Press. BRICKLEY, M. & J.I. MCKINLEY. (ed.) 2004. Guidelines to the standards for recording human remains (Institute of Field Archaeologists Paper 7). Reading: Institute of Field Archaeologists. BUIKSTRA, J.E. & L.A. BECK. (ed.) 2006. Bioarchaeology. The contextual analysis of human remains. Oxford: Elsevier. BUIKSTRA, J.E. & C.A. ROBERTS. (ed.) 2012. A global history of paleopathology: pioneers and prospects. New York: Oxford University Press. BUIKSTRA, J.E. & D. UBELAKER. 1994. Standards for data collection from human skeletal remains (Arkansas Archeological Survey Research series 44). Fayetteville: Arkansas Archeological Survey. DEWITTE, S. & J. BEKVALAC. 2010. Oral health and frailty in the medieval English cemetery of St Mary Graces. American Journal of Physical Anthropology 142: 341-54. LAMBERT, P.M. 2002. Rib lesions in a prehistoric Puebloan sample from southwestern Colorado. American Journal of Physical Anthropology 117: 281-92. LEFORT, M. & P. BENNIKE. 2007. A case study of possible differential diagnoses of a medieval skeleton from Denmark: leprosy, ergotism, treponematosis, sarcoidosis or smallpox? International Journal of Osteoarchaeology 17: 337-49. RESNICK, D. 1995. Diagnosis of bone and joint disorders. Edinburgh: W.B. Saunders. ROBERTS, C.A. 2009. Human remains in archaeology. A handbook. York: Council for British Archaeology. ROBERTS, C.A. & K. MANCHESTER. 2010. The archaeology of disease (3rd edition). Stroud, Gloucestershire: History Press. ROBERTS, C.A. & S.A. MAYS. 2011. Study and restudy of curated skeletal collections in bioarchaeology: a perspective on the UK and the implications for future ▶ Bioarchaeology: Definition ▶ Bone: Chemical Analysis ▶ Dental Anthropology ▶ DNA and Skeletal Analysis in Bioarchaeology and Human Osteology ▶ Osteology: Definition ▶ Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Forensic Contexts ▶ Sex Assessment ▶ Skeletal Biology: Definition Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Forensic Contexts curation of human remains. International Journal of Osteoarchaeology 21: 626-30. TREVATHAN, W., E.O. SMITH & J.J. MCKENNA. 2008. Evolutionary medicine and health. New perspectives. Oxford: University Press. WOOD, J.W., G.R. MILNER, H.C. HARPENDING & K.M. WEISS. 1992. The osteological paradox: problems of inferring prehistoric health from skeletal samples. Current Anthropology 33: 343-70. Further Reading AUFDERHEIDE, A.C. 2003. The scientific study of mummies. Cambridge: University Press. BARNES, I., A. DUDA, O.G. PYBUS & M.G. THOMAS. 2011. Ancient urbanization predicts genetic resistance to tuberculosis. Evolution 65: 842-8. BENNIKE, P. 1985. Palaeopathology of Danish skeletons. A comparative study of demography, disease and injury. Copenhagen: Akademisk Forlag. BROWN, T. & K. BROWN. 2011. Biomolecular archaeology: an introduction. Chichester: Wiley Blackwell. CHEMM, R.K. & D.R. BROTHWELL. 2008. Paleoradiology. Imaging mummies and fossils. New York: Springer. COHEN, M.N. & G. CRANE-KRAMER. (ed.) 2007. Ancient health. Skeletal indicators of agricultural and economic intensification. Gainesville (FL): University Press of Florida. KATZENBERG, M.A. 2008. Stable isotope analysis: a tool for studying past diet, demography and life history, in M.A. Katzenberg & S.R. Saunders (ed.) Biological anthropology of the human skeleton (2nd edition): 413-60. Chichester: Wiley-Liss. LEWIS, M.E. 2007. The bioarchaeology of children. Perspectives from biological and forensic anthropology. Cambridge: University Press. MCELROY, A. & P.K. TOWNSEND. (ed.) 2009. Medical anthropology in ecological perspective (5th edition). Boulder (CO): Westview Press. ORTNER, D.J. 2003. Identification of pathological conditions in human skeletal remains. Washington (DC): Smithsonian Institution Press. RAWCLIFFE, C. 1997. Medicine and society in later Medieval England. Stroud, Gloucestershire: Sutton Publishing. ROBERTS, C.A. & M. COX. 2003. Health and disease in Britain. From prehistory to the present day. Stroud, Gloucestershire: Sutton Publishing. SCHULTZ, M. 2001. Paleohistology of bone: a new approach to the study of ancient diseases. Yearbook of Physical Anthropology 44: 106-47. STECKEL, R. & J.C. ROSE. (ed.) 2002. The backbone of history. Health and nutrition in the western hemisphere. Cambridge: University Press. WILBUR, A.K., A.C. STONE, C.A. ROBERTS, L. PFISTER, J.E. BUIKSTRA & T.A. BROWN. 2009. Deficiencies and challenges in the study of ancient tuberculosis DNA. Journal of Archaeological Science 36: 1990-97. 5829 P Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Forensic Contexts Conrado Rodrı́guez-Martı́n Instituto Canario de Bioantropologı́a (OAMC-Cabildo de Tenerife), Santa Cruz de Tenerife, Canary Islands, Spain Introduction Bone pathology is a basic tool for understanding the epidemiology of archaeological populations and the natural history of different diseases. Osteopathological analysis may also be helpful in forensic cases where identification is an issue. Bone pathology may be of use in the positive identification of individuals because pathology, in general, constitutes crucial individual characteristics (Maples 1984; Rodrı́guez-Martı́n et al. 2005). In exceptional cases, some pathological conditions can be the only guide to identification (Rogers 1987). Stewart (1958) was one of the first to introduce the forensic implications of skeletal pathology (degenerative disease) to diagnose age and Reichs (1986a, b) to diagnose sex and ancestry. Other studies have contributed to expand the field: some diseases cause alterations in the personal appearance that can help in identifying a person (Pickering & Bachman 1997). Comparison between lesions observed in the osseous tissue and antemortem radiographs or medical records may also be extremely useful (Krogman & Iscan 1986). When examining and interpreting bony changes, it is important to consider differential diagnoses: similar bony changes can be produced by different agents. Alternatively, similar events may produce different conditions in different persons or at different time of their lives (Ubelaker 1989; Burns 1999). While bone pathology is widely studied, it is important to note that the majority of diseases do not affect the skeleton: most diseases need a long time to develop (chronicity), and very few are a direct cause of death. The study of skeletal lesions is widely based on macroscopic analysis, P P 5830 Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Forensic Contexts but certain cases need other diagnostic methods (radiography, computed tomography, microscopy, chemical analysis, or DNA). Examples Metabolic Disturbances Scurvy (Deficiency of Vitamin C or Ascorbic Acid) Ascorbic acid is required for collagen synthesis. Therefore, a deficit may lead to subperiosteal hemorrhage (the most important sign) causing hematoma that is calcified, separation of the epiphyses, osteoporosis, and joint disturbances by hemorrhage. Scurvy is typically classified in two types: infantile, showing most of the skeletal changes, and adult showing mostly osteopenia (lower bone mineral density). osteoporosis are thinning of cortical bone, generalized rarefaction of the skeleton, and compression (codfish vertebra) and pathological fractures. Joint Diseases Degenerative Joint Disease (DJD) (Osteoarthritis) DJD involves diarthrodial joints. When spinal bodies (not diarthrodial joints) are affected, the condition is known as spondylosis. DJD may be acquired (e.g., through trauma or strong physical activity) and age-related (usually generalized). The most prominent features are osteophyte formation at the joint margins, increased porosity and formation of subchondral cysts on the joint surface, and later eburnation and deformity of the whole joint. Spondylosis also shows vertical disk hernia (Schmorl’s nodes). Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA) Rickets and Osteomalacia (Deficiency of Vitamin D) A deficit of vitamin D can be produced by a failure of its intake or a renal failure leading to mineralization alterations. If this occurs in subadults, it is called rickets and in adults osteomalacia. The condition of rickets shows widespread skeletal deformities: cranial thinning and softening with bulging fontanels; rachitic rosary; enlargement of wrists, knees, and ankles, by widening of the epiphyses; marked curvature of the long bones; and spinal kyphosis, scoliosis, and increased lumbar lordosis which contribute to decreased stature. Osteomalacia can be the consequence of rickets perpetuated into adulthood, but it is mostly acquired (Aufderheide & Rodrı́guez-Martı́n 1998). Most individuals do not show skeletal deformities, only osteopenia. Osteoporosis Osteoporosis is said to be present when there is loss of 30 % or more of bone mass. There are different types of osteoporosis: infantile–juvenile, traumatic, post-pregnancy, and aging-related (postmenopausal (55 years, rapid, 6 times more frequent in females) and senile (>70 years, slow, females twice affected)). The typical changes in RA is a chronic, inflammatory, systemic, and nonsuppurative disease of the synovial joints and connective tissue that causes the ultimate destruction of the joint. A probable autoimmune nature is suspected. Females are two to three times more affected than males, and its onset typically commences between the fourth and sixth decades. Hands and feet are commonly involved. The changes are polyarticular, bilateral, and symmetrical involvement of the joints; pannus (inflamed synovium) formation producing marginal erosions and destruction of the joints; and little, if any, reparative activity. No osteosclerosis is detected in the radiographs. The consequences are subluxation and dislocation of the joints. Ankylosing Spondylitis (Bechterew or MarieStrümpell Disease) Ankylosing spondylitis is a chronic, inflammatory, progressive, and systemic disease linked to the antigen HLA-B-27. Males (whites and adolescent–young adults) are more affected than females. Its clinical picture consists mainly in spinal changes and disk disease, fusion of the sacroiliac joints (first sign), ossification of the anterior and posterior ligaments of the spine, and increased kyphosis and decreased lordosis (an inward curvature of a portion of the lumbar and cervical vertebral column). Peripheral joint Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Forensic Contexts involvement (hips, knees) is almost identical to RA (see above). Diffuse Idiopathic Skeletal Hyperostosis (DISH) (Forestier-Rotés Querol Disease) DISH consists of ankylosing hyperostosis of the spine due to ossification of the anterior longitudinal ligaments without inflammatory changes. The disk is not involved. Older males are predominantly affected. 5831 P Porotic Hyperostosis and Cribra Orbitalia Most types of anemia show skeletal changes in subadults, especially on the cranial vault (porotic hyperostosis) or orbits (cribra orbitalia). Porotic hyperostosis is characterized by lytic lesions, symmetrically distributed, in the parietals and frontal bones and in lesser degree in the occipital, showing thickening with porosity of the overlying outer table that exposes the diploe. Cribra orbitalia shows a similar pattern. Gout This disease is an inflammatory arthritis, usually monoarticular, by chalky deposits (urate) due to primary or secondary (most common) hyperuricemia. Gout typically presents in the periphery of the joint causing erosions that create a punched out appearance. Reactive sclerosis is observed and osteoporosis is not present. It is more common in adult males. Multiple Myeloma (Kahler’s Disease) Hematological Disorders Iron Deficiency Anemia This condition can be produced by one of the following causes: decreased intake, blood loss, or bad absorption of iron. Women are more affected. Infections: Nonspecific Bacterial Infections The skeletal changes produced by nonspecific bacteria are indistinguishable. Sickle Cell Anemia Alterations in the B-hemoglobin chains produce deformed red cells that lead to increased hemolysis with ultimate bone marrow hyperplasia. The typical changes are osteopenia (by increased bone marrow) and then osteoporosis responsible for vertebral collapse and kyphoscoliosis, bone infarction (femoral head and spine) (Steinbock, 1976), and possible osteomyelitis (mostly by salmonella). This is an aggressive plasma cell dyscrasia affecting persons >50 years of age. The disease is usually located in the spine and associated with possible pathological fractures; the skull and pelvis may show round lytic defects without sclerotic reaction, and more rarely osteopenia. Osteomyelitis (OM) OM is an inflammation of bone and marrow. It is important to note that 30 % of acute OM (hematogenous or by direct infection) become chronic. Hematogenous OM Hematogenous OM predominantly affects children (>3 years old). It is uncommon at other ages but can affect adults with chronic diseases, debilitated elders, or drug addicts. S. aureus is the usual germen responsible. Defects are usually located in the distal femur, proximal tibia, proximal femur, or distal radius. Thalassemia Thalassemia is produced by alterations in hemoglobin chains. It may be major (homozygous) and minor (heterozygous, with lesser bone alterations). Thalassemia is most prevalent in individuals from the Mediterranean. There is great and severe anemia with big marrow hyperplasia causing severe osteoporosis in the skull (“hair-on-end”), appendicular skeleton (“honey comb”), and axial skeleton (kyphoscoliosis). Direct Infection Puncture wounds, accidents, and iatrogenic infection are the most common causes of direct infection. It is usually polybacterial and typically involves the tibia and femur. The infection produces a defective blood supply leading to bone necrosis (sequestrum) that is surrounded by a shell of new bone (involucrum). Cloacae are also present to drain pus and detritus. P P 5832 Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Forensic Contexts Infections: Specific Bacterial Infections The changes produced by every bacterium are specific. Tuberculosis Mycobacterium tuberculosis (Koch bacillus) is the responsible bacteria. Approximately 1 % of cases of tuberculosis observed in developing countries show skeletal changes. Tuberculosis affects persons of <25 years of age. The skeletal changes are produced by metastatic spread or continuity and affect the spine (vertebral collapse causes severe kyphosis or Pott’s disease) and knee in children, and knee and hip in adults. Other changes include osteoporosis; marginal erosions; destruction of subchondral bone, with little bone reaction; and bony ankylosis of the sacroiliac joint (Ortner & Putschar 1985). America, Southeastern Asia, and Southern Pacific. Only 1–2 % of the cases show skeletal changes: dactylitis of the hands, saber shin tibia or boomerang leg, gummatous OM of long bones without prominent periostitis, gangosa (extensive destruction of the nasal area), Goundou or “big nose” in children, and uncommon joint involvement. Spontaneous healing is usual. Bejel, Nonvenereal Syphilis, or Endemic Syphilis Nonvenereal and caused by Treponema pallidum endemicum, it is an acute children’s disease of the Eastern Mediterranean and Southwestern Asia. 1–5 % show skeletal changes: saber shin tibia, gummatous destruction, and nasal–palatal destruction similar to gangosa. Spontaneous healing is usual. Venereal Syphilis Leprosy Leprosy is caused by Mycobacterium leprae (Hansen bacillus). It may be tuberculoid (TT), showing more skeletal changes, and lepromatous (LL). While there is evidence of leprosy in antiquity worldwide, today it predominantly occurs in tropical areas. Skeletal changes are due to direct extension more than hematogenous spread. Skeletal alterations include rhinomaxillary syndrome (Facies leprosa) showing erosion of the nasal margins with destruction of the maxillary area and the nasal spine along with nummular palatal perforation and loss of the upper central incisors; periostitis of the long bones; and changes due to peripheral neuropathy and anesthesia (trauma creates an infection – OM and septic arthritis – with bone destruction and marked periostitis) (Charcot’s joint). Venereal syphilis is caused by Treponema pallidum pallidum and may be acute, subacute, and chronic. It predominantly affects young people and occurs worldwide. The skeletal lesions include gummatous lesions that appear in advanced stages involving skull (parietal, frontal, and nasal–palatal involvement) and tibia showing the pattern of the skull (thickened cortex and rough surface). Although less frequently, other bones are also involved. Gummatous arthritis is rare. Nongummatous lesions show periostitis, especially at the metaphysis, leading to cortical thickening and deformation causing narrowing of the medullary cavity and saber shin tibia. Neurosyphilis: Charcot’s joint in large joints. Congenital Syphilis Treponematosis It is very difficult to perform a diagnosis of each of the treponematosis without knowing the origin of the sample. Yaws or Frambesia Yaws or frambesia is a nonvenereal disease caused by Treponema pertenue. Geographically, the disease has been observed in Africa, Latin Congenital syphilis is caused by Treponema pallidum pallidum. There are two types: early or infantile showing osteochondritis at the epiphysis and metaphysis plus diaphyseal osteitis and periostitis, and late with gummatous and nongummatous OM or periostitis with diffuse hyperostosis, dactylitis, and Clutton’s joints (more in knee and bilateral) and teeth anomalies (Hutchinson’s teeth and Moon’s molars). Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Forensic Contexts Congenital Malformations: Cranial Malformations Craniosynostosis Craniosynostoses are the most common form of cranial malformations and are the result of the earlier closure of a cranial suture. The most clinically significant are scaphocephaly (sagittal suture closure causing hyperdolicocephaly), plagiocephaly (asymmetrical suture closure), turricephaly (coronal suture producing a tower-shaped skull), trigonocephaly (metopic suture giving a triangle-shaped skull), and triphyllocephaly (multiple closure resulting in a trilobular skull). Congenital Malformations: Spinal Malformations Atlas Assimilation Atlas assimilation refers to the partial or total fusion between the atlas and the skull base. One percent of the population is affected, and around 50 % show C2–C3 fusion. Spina Bifida Spina bifida is the most common of all spinal malformations, consisting of incomplete bony closure of the neural arches, especially at the sacrum. It may be aperta (very severe condition in which meninges are not protected by skin, muscle, or bone) or occulta (the most common form). Transitional Vertebrae at the Lumbosacral Level There are two types: sacralization of L5 (the sacrum appears with six segments) and lumbarization of S1 (the sacrum shows four segments only). Both can be complete or partial. Vertebral Block Vertebral block refers to the fusion of two, three, or more vertebrae in a block that may involve spinous and transverse processes. Spondylolysis and Spondylolisthesis This is a failure of ossification in the pars interauricularis producing separation of the vertebra in two parts, one anterior and other 5833 P posterior, that can be displaced (spondylolisthesis). Minor trauma plays an important role in its origin. Thoracic Malformations Cervical Ribs It is an elongation of the transverse process of C7 becoming a rib with head, neck, and body but very rarely reaches the sternum. Pelvic Malformations Congenital Dislocation of the Hip This condition is based on the loss of the normal relationship between the femoral head and the acetabulum. If not treated, the result is a dysplastic acetabulum, deformed and flattened head, and formation of a false acetabulum (neoacetabulum). It seems to be hereditary, and there are examples of familial cases. In general, there is a considerable population variation. Frequency: 1 to 15–20 per 1,000 of live births worldwide (Aufderheide & Rodrı́guez Martı́n 1998). 25–50 % of the cases are bilateral, being the left side more affected in the rest. Females are more affected than males (5–8: 1). Limb Malformations Upper Limb Anomalies Madelung’s deformity Seventy percent of the cases show bilateral involvement with shortening and bowing of the distal radial third that due to the difference in length with the ulna leads to congenital subluxation of the wrist. Carpal Blocks This is a relatively uncommon diseases characterized by fusion of two or more carpal bones. Lower Limb Anomalies Developmental Coxa Vara Both sexes are equally affected. The changes are short femoral neck and an angle of less than 120 , osteoporotic head and elevated greater trochanter producing short limb (>5 cm), and degenerative joint disease in adulthood. P P 5834 Tarsal Blocks The most common talocalcaneal, calcaneonavicular, talonavicular coalition. Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Forensic Contexts are and Skeletal Deformities Scoliosis This anomaly is based in the lateral curvature of the spine with rotation of the vertebrae and spinous processes toward the concavity where the ribs are approximated among them, being pedicles and laminae thinner and shorter than normal. There is a cuneiform aspect of the vertebra. Several types are observed: the idiopathic type is the most common (80 %) appearing at 10–12 years and being inherited and familial (30 % of the cases), followed by the paralytic type that is commonly located at the thoracic–lumbar level. The less frequent type is the secondary to localized spinal malformations. Bone Tumors A tumor is a cellular proliferation without the control of normal growth-regulating mechanism. Benign tumors show limited growth potential, meanwhile malignant neoplasms manifest much greater growth autonomy and this leads to invasion of other organs. of diaphyses of the bones of the lower limb, within the cortex, showing peripheral sclerosis. Vascular Origin Hemangiomas are tumors that affect middle-aged individuals and involve the vertebrae and the skull. The lesions are cystic cavities showing thickened vertical trabeculae. Fibrous Origin Nonossifying fibroma (fibrous cortical defect) affects children. The skeletal changes include a solitary, eccentric, and welldemarcated lesion at the metaphysis of the femur and tibia which produce cortical erosion with sclerotic margins. Pathological fractures can occur. Cartilage Origin Osteochondroma (exostosis). This lesion accounts for almost half of all benign bone tumors, affecting individual under 30 years. It is usually located on metaphyses of the lower femur and upper tibia, as a projection of the bone surface with a core of trabecular bone continues with that of the metaphysis and covered by normal cortex. The size varies and the shape may be sessile or pedunculated. Enchondromas are common tumors involving short bones as an intramedullary lytic lesion. Although the cortex is usually spared, pathological fractures can occur. Benign Bone Tumors Osseous Origin Button osteomata are solitary, slow-growing tumors of compact bone, usually involving the cranial vault but may involve sinuses and orbit. Adult males are more affected. Ossifying fibroma typically affects adolescents and young adults. Jaws and, uncommonly, diaphyses and metaphyses of long bones (tibia, showing anterior bowing) are the most involved bones (the epiphyses are spared). Osteolysis and cortical thinning and expansion are the typical features (Aufderheide & Rodrı́guez-Martı́n 1998). Osteoid osteomata affect children and adolescents and are relatively common. Males are twice as likely to be affected. Osteoid osteomata tend to be small and have solitary foci involving the end Miscellaneous Tumors Giant cell tumor appears in the third to fourth decades like a locally aggressive lesion (lytic and eccentric, without sclerosis), located at the epiphyseal end and at the metaphyses of long bones. Primary Malignant Tumors Osseous Origin Osteosarcomas (osteogenic sarcomas) are the most common primary neoplasm of bone (20 % of all bone tumors) and affect children, adolescents, and young adults (mostly males). 50 % are osteoblastic, being central or parosteal (periosteal and intracortical are very rare), and the metaphyses are usually affected. The common pathological findings are Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Forensic Contexts “sunburst” pattern, Codman’s triangle, and certain degree of sclerosis. Cartilage Origin Chondrosarcomas are the second most common malignant primary tumor of bone and involve the medullary cavity of the femur and tibia at the metaphysis showing defects with scalloped and poorly defined inner cortex. Adults are most commonly affected. Metastatic Tumors Most malignant skeletal lesions are metastases, appearing in individuals over 40–50 years. The most metastasizing are prostatic carcinoma and breast carcinoma, and the most involved bones are vertebrae, pelvis, ribs, major limb bones, sternum, and skull. The lesions are usually osteolytic, while most prostatic metastases are osteoblastic. Circulatory Disturbances of Bone Osteochondritis Dissecans (König Disease) This condition affects males more than females, at 10–25 years. Its etiology is not completely known (idiopathic, vascular factor, trauma). It is a benign, noninflammatory condition of the diarthrodial joints (especially femoral condyle, talus, and elbow), showing foci of skeletal necrosis being the cartilage spared. The typical feature is a craterlike lesion which may range from several millimeters to centimeters in size. The lesions are most commonly unilateral and sporadic although familial cases have been observed (probably CE). Osteochondrosis Osteochondrosis affects individuals of less than 10 years, mainly males. The etiology is varied (trauma, steroid therapy, idiopathic). It is a benign and noninflammatory condition of the apophysis and epiphysis. Multiple involvements may occur. The typical lesion shows increased bone density at the beginning and then subchondral radiolucency leading to the collapse of the articular surface and joint fragmentation producing joint deformity. 5835 P Cross-References ▶ Bone, Trauma in ▶ Children in Bioarchaeology and Forensic Anthropology ▶ Forensic and Archaeological Analyses: Similarities and Differences ▶ Forensic Anthropology: Definition ▶ Human Skeletal Remains: Identification of Individuals ▶ Imaging Techniques in Bone Analysis ▶ Osteology: Definition ▶ Pathological Conditions and Anomalies in Archaeological Investigations ▶ Skeletal Biology: Definition ▶ Taphonomy in Bioarchaeology and Human Osteology References AUFDERHEIDE, A.C. & C. RODRÍGUEZ-MARTÍN. 1998. The Cambridge encyclopedia of human paleopathology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. BURNS, K.R. 1999. Forensic anthropology training manual. Upper Sadle River: Prentice Hall. KROGMAN, W.M. & M.Y. ISCAN. 1986. The human skeleton in forensic medicine, 2nd edn. Springfield: Thomas. MAPLES, W.R. 1984. The identifying pathology, in T.A. Rathbun & J.E. Buikstra (ed.) Human identification: 363-70. Springfield: Thomas. ORTNER, D.J. & W. PUTSCHAR. 1985. Identification of pathological conditions in human skeletal remains. Washington (DC): Smithsonian I.P. PICKERING, R.B. & D.C. BACHMAN. 1997. The use of forensic anthropology. Boca Ratón: CRC. REICHS, K.J. 1986a. Forensic implications of skeletal pathology: sex, in K.J. Reichs (ed.) Forensic osteology: 112-42. Springfield: Thomas. - 1986b. Forensic implications of skeletal pathology: ancestry, in K.J. Reichs (ed.) Forensic osteology: 196-217. Springfield: Thomas. RODRÍGUEZ-MARTÍN, C., M. MARTÍN OVAL & A. PATIÑO. 2005. Patologı́a ósea en el abuso y maltrato fı́sicos. ERES-Serie de Arqueologı́a-Bioantropologı́a 13: 37-53. ROGERS, S.L. 1987. Personal identification from human remains. Springfield: Thomas. STEINBOCK, R.T. 1976. Paleopathological diagnosis and interpretation. Springfield: Thomas. STEWART, T.D. 1958. The rate of development of vertebral osteoarthritis in American whites and its significance in skeletal age identification. The Leech 28: 144-51. UBELAKER, D.H. 1989. Human skeletal remains, 2nd edn. Washington: Taraxacum. P P 5836 Patterson, Thomas Carl Wendy Ashmore Department of Anthropology, University of California, Riverside, CA, USA Basic Biographical Information Anthropologist, social theorist, and activistcritic, Thomas Carl Patterson was born on November 5, 1937, in Rutland, Vermont. He received his B.A. in Anthropology from the University of California, Riverside (1960), and his Ph.D. in Anthropology from the University of California, Berkeley (1964). He held teaching positions at Berkeley, briefly, and then at Harvard, Yale, and Temple Universities before joining the faculty at the University of California, Riverside, in 2000. During field research in Peru in the 1960s, civil unrest paralleling events at home in the United States led him to question mainstream approaches to understanding social order and change. Reading Marx opened what Patterson found more effective lines of thinking, and since then, his writings and activism have reflected his commitment to social justice, informed by a profoundly Marxist perspective. A critical autobiographical statement (Patterson 2003:vii-xvi) gives a fuller account, complemented by a thoughtful perspective from Latin America (Tantaleán 2011). Major Accomplishments Patterson’s initial research addressed socioeconomic, demographic, and environmental topics in ancient South America, drawing on settlement patterns, pottery, and stone tools as primary evidence (1971). In the first decade of his career, publications ranged widely in context, from earliest human occupation through Inca times, and across Andean South America’s coast and highlands. His analytic and reporting skills emerged in his earliest publications, including Patterson, Thomas Carl his dissertation on the Miramar and Lima pottery styles of Peru’s central coast (1966); analyses reported therein are fundamental reference points today. His research is so solid that, in 1971, for the South America volume of a landmark synthesis of American archaeology, Gordon R. Willey cited Patterson’s unpublished, preoral reviews of South American research as key sources. Patterson’s methods and interpretations fit comfortably in archaeological frames of the time, showing little yet of the theoretical and political transformations he was experiencing. Through the late 1970s, Patterson worked out his new ways of thinking largely in teaching, not publications (personal communication). Classroom settings have often inspired his subsequent writing, in textbooks and other venues (1983a, 1997a). His attentive mentoring has boosted countless students and colleagues, including the 30-plus whose dissertations he has supervised through 2010. By the early 1980s, transformations in his thinking were rendered firmly in print. He openly challenged positivist, ahistorical approaches to past societies, arguing that historical materialism yielded deeper, more compelling insights about people’s lives. This standpoint was first explicit in writings on class and state formation in Peru (1983b), interpretations that coalesced in his book on The Inca Empire (1991), and a crosscultural, edited volume of concepts, processes, and case studies (Patterson & Gailey 1987). He has since pursued such analysis in other settings as well (1997b). Also in the 1980s, Patterson embarked on critical social histories of theory and practices in archaeology and anthropology, especially in the USA and Latin America (1989). His work in this domain accelerated in subsequent decades (1994, 2001), especially as he wrote more about social inequalities of race, class, gender, and other forms of social diversity (Patterson & Spencer 1994; Patterson 1995, 1997a; Susser & Patterson 2001). He remains deeply concerned with the intersection of such unequal positions and the politics in which they are embedded, including challenges to free speech and academic freedom, Patterson, Thomas Carl and the politics of knowledge production. He has been active in civil rights and antiwar demonstrations at home, solidarity with oppressed peoples abroad, and labor unions, supporting strikes and rights to organize. Patterson participated as well in actions giving rise in 1986 to a newly independent World Archaeological Congress (WAC), the aftermath of conflicts over including South African scholars and protesting apartheid. Theory and praxis are inseparable for him. Patterson has continued critical consideration of theoretical trends in archaeology, placing in historical contexts the provisions of and tensions among such perspectives as processualism, postprocessualism, and postcolonialism (2008a). He frequently critiques archaeologists’ failure to recognize the widespread political and economic change wrought by capitalism and their use of interpretive models based in capitalist experience to interpret pre- or noncapitalist situations (2008b). In counterpoint, he applauds the union of theory and praxis in Latin American social archaeology (1994; Tantaleán 2011) and other expressions of social engagement, including Indigenous, feminist, and Marxist archaeologies. As a social theorist, Patterson seeks to articulate archaeology more firmly with history, economics, and other social scientific and humanistic disciplines, beyond its home in the USA within anthropology (2008b). He also believes firmly in an integrated anthropology, of which archaeology is only one part. At the same time, he advocates and embodies moving beyond one’s country, culture, and language of origin, connecting with diverse scholars and intellectual traditions. Increasingly his attention overtly encompasses explanations for social order and change today, expanding on early concerns for historical inclusiveness; Change and Development in the Twentieth Century (1999), for example, evaluates perspectives on this very recent period based in works of Weber, Durkheim, and Marx. Combining social theory, archaeology, and his historical sensibilities, Patterson has turned to examining intellectual biographies of scholars 5837 P he views as fundamental contributors. He began with Marx, with whose ghost whom Patterson (2003) contended archaeologists hold continuing conversations. In 2004, Patterson and Charles Orser reproduced select writings of V. Gordon Childe, who, as a scholar-activist, intellectual, and Marxist, became “one of the most eminent archaeologists in the twentieth century” (p1). Fittingly, Patterson (2009) returned to Karl Marx, assessing what the latter thought about nascent anthropological ideas and findings and what his legacies to today’s discipline are. Archaeology takes backstage in this book, but from the preface on, it reveals much about Patterson and the integration of his archaeological and anthropological thinking. In research, teaching, and publication, Patterson keeps expanding themes established at varied points in his career. He works on projects as varied as race and the history of anthropology, class conflict and state formation in archaeology contexts, and from the deep past to the present, changing political economy in southern California’s Inland Empire. He continues confronting inequities, through practices in archaeology, anthropology, and daily life. His is truly a life unified in theory and praxis. P Cross-References ▶ Activism and Archaeology ▶ Critical Theory in Archaeology ▶ Decolonization in Archaeological Theory ▶ Inca State and Empire Formation ▶ Labor Archaeology ▶ Latin American Social Archaeology ▶ Marx, Karl ▶ Marxist Archaeologies Development: Peruvian, Latin American, and Social Archaeology Perspectives ▶ Nationalism and Archaeology ▶ Postcolonial Archaeologies ▶ Race in Archaeology ▶ Social Archaeology P 5838 Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology (Harvard University) References PATTERSON, T. C., & C. E. ORSER. (ed.). 2004. Foundations of social archaeology: selected writings of V. Gordon Childe. Walnut Creek (CA): AltaMira Press. PATTERSON, T. C. & F. SPENCER. 1994. Racial hierarchies and buffer races. Transforming Anthropology 5(1-2): 20-7. SUSSER, I. & T. C. PATTERSON. (ed.) 2001. Cultural diversity in the United States: a critical reader. Oxford: Blackwell. TANTALEÁN, H. 2011. El arqueólogo militante: Thomas Patterson y la práctica de la arqueologı́a social, in H. Tantaleán & M. Aguilar (ed.) La arqueologı́a social latinoamericana: de la teorı́a a la praxis: 29-36. Bogotá: Editorial de la Universidad de los Andes. PATTERSON, T. C. 1983b. The historical development of a coastal Andean social formation in central Peru, 6000 to 500 B.C., in D. H. Sandweiss (ed.) Investigations of the Andean past: papers from the First Annual Northeast Conference of Andean Archaeology and Ethnohistory: 21-37. Ithaca: Cornell Latin American Studies Program. - 1991. The Inca empire: the formation and disintegration of a pre- capitalist state. (rev. edn. 1992). Oxford: Berg Publishers. - 1994. Social archaeology in Latin America: an appreciation. American Antiquity 59(3): 531-7. - 1997a. Inventing Western civilization. New York: Monthly Review Press. - 2001. A social history of anthropology in the United States. Oxford: Berg. - 2003. Marx’s ghost: conversations with archaeologists. Oxford: Berg. - 2009. Karl Marx, anthropologist. Oxford: Berg. PATTERSON, T. C. & C. W. GAILEY. (ed.) 1987. Power relations and state formation. Washington (DC): Archeology Section, American Anthropological Association. Further Reading PATTERSON, T. C. 1966. Pattern and process in the early Intermediate period pottery of the central coast of Peru (University of California Publications in Anthropology 3). Berkeley: University of California Press. - 1971. The emergence of food production in central Peru, in S. Struever (ed.) Prehistoric agriculture: 181-208. Garden City: American Museum Sourcebook, Natural History Press. - 1983a. The theory and practice of archaeology: a workbook. (rev. edns. 1994, 2005). Englewood Cliffs (NJ): Prentice- Hall. - 1989. Political economy and a discourse called Peruvian archaeology. Culture and History 4: 35-64. - 1995. Archaeology, history, indigenismo and the state in Peru and Mexico, in P. Schmidt & T. C. Patterson (ed.) Making alternative histories: the practice of archaeology and history in non-Western settings: 69-85. Santa Fe: School of American Research Press. - 1997b. Las sociedades nucleares de Mesoamérica. Caracas: Historia General de America, Academic de Historia Nacional. - 1999. Change and development in the twentieth century. Oxford: Berg. - 2008a. A brief history of postcolonial theory and its implications for archaeology, in M. Liebmann & U. Z. Rizvi (ed.) Archaeology and the postcolonial critique: 21-34. Lanham (MD): AltaMira/Roman & Littlefield. - 2008b. Archaeological representations of the economy, in D. F. Ruccio (ed.) Economic representations: academic and everyday: 139-53. London & New York: Routledge. Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology (Harvard University) Katharine Vickers Kirakosian Department of Anthropology, University of Massachusetts Amherst, Amherst, MA, USA Introduction The Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology is one of the oldest anthropology museums in the world and the oldest anthropology museum in the United States. It is located in Boston, Massachusetts, and was founded on October 6, 1866, after philanthropist George Peabody gave a modest gift of $150,000 to Harvard University in support of a museum and a professorship of American archaeology and ethnology (Putnam 1898). Peabody was inspired to do this after his nephew, soon to be Yale Professor of Paleontology O. C. Marsh, approached him in 1865 about his avocational interests in the nascent field of American archaeology (Putnam 1898). The museum holds around 10 million items. About 2.5 million items, roughly one quarter of the museum’s collection, are from North America (Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology 2013). Perhaps one of the most celebrated parts of the North American materials is the largest surviving collection of objects from the Lewis and Clark Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology (Harvard University) expedition. The museum’s Central American collections include an impressive array of Mayan and Aztec artifacts and monument casts. The South American collection contains items from the Amazon basin, Bolivia, and Peru, including an impressive array of Peruvian textiles and quipus. (Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology 2013). This collection also includes materials from Asia, Africa, Oceania, and Europe. The museum’s archives are also rich and include 500,000 historical photographs, hundreds of paintings and drawings, and numerous research records. Today, much of the Peabody Museum’s collection can be accessed and viewed online. Key Issues The museum’s first curator was Dr. Jeffries Wyman, who graduated from Harvard College in 1833 and Harvard Medical School in 1837, and was appointed as curator in 1866. Wyman, who had also served as the Hersey Professor of Anatomy at Harvard College since 1847, held both positions until his death in 1874. As the first curator, Wyman worked diligently to grow the museum’s collections, which had grown to some 8,000 items by the time of his death (Browman 2002). He accepted donations from scholars and colleagues, including Harvard University’s Louis Agassiz, Alexander Agassiz, and Henry David Thoreau. Wyman also purchased thousands of artifacts from Europe and led several expeditions throughout Maine, Massachusetts, and Florida to collect his own specimens as well (Browman 2002). These first collections were initially assembled in Wyman’s laboratory in Harvard’s Boylston Hall and then in the Anatomical Museum, until construction of the Peabody Museum was completed in 1878. Frederic Ward Putnam, a former student of Wyman’s and Agassiz’s, was appointed the second curator shortly after Wyman’s death and a brief interim curatorship by Asa Gray. Putnam held this position from 1874 until 1909. Called the father of American archaeology by his contemporaries, Putnam worked to establish the 5839 P Peabody Museum as more broadly focused on archaeology, physical anthropology, and ethnology (Browman 2002). Under Putnam’s guidance, Ohio’s Serpent Mound was purchased and Serpent Mound Park was established (Putnam 1898). It was not until 1886 that the professorship was actually established, which was filled initially by Putnam (Putnam 1898). Less than a decade later, Putnam helped create a series of exhibits for the 1893 World’s Colombian Exposition in Chicago, where Franz Boas served as one of his assistants. Under Putnam’s guidance, the artifact collections and library holdings expanded at such a fast rate that by 1889 an addition was built that more than doubled the museum’s square footage. Immediately prior to the close of the century in 1897, the Peabody Museum officially merged with Harvard University. Frederic Putnam facilitated the establishment of the Peabody Museum Press in 1888, which continues to publish monographs, reports, and other papers (Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology 2013). These include the Papers of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, which has highlighted many of the 800 expeditions that the museum has supported across the globe (Spencer 1997). Through the Peabody Museum and their Central American Expedition Fund, some of the earliest research was conducted on sites such as Copan (1891–1900), Seibal (1895), and Chichén Itzá (1904–1910). Gordon Willey, who joined the Peabody Museum in 1950, continued to explore some of these earlier sites in the Yucatan. The museum’s first ethnological expedition took place in Peru and Bolivia between 1906 and 1909, led by William Curtis Farabee. Decades later the museum supported John Marshall’s ethnographic research in the Kalahari Desert from 1950 to 1961 (Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology 2013). This research inspired John Marshall and Robert Gardner to found the Harvard Film Studies Center through the Peabody Museum in 1957. Some of the earliest ethnographic films produced here include classics like John Marshall’s The Hunters (1957) and Robert Gardner’s Dead Birds (1963). P P 5840 Current Debates After the 1990 passage of the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA), the Peabody Museum founded a repatriation office that has been working to repatriate human remains, funerary objects, sacred objects, and objects of cultural patrimony. This has been an ongoing task, considering that the museum’s collection included roughly 22,000 sets of human remains (Bethell et al. 2004). Not all remains fall under the jurisdiction of NAGPRA, as the Peabody Museum’s osteological collection originates from more than eighty countries and six continents (Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnography 2013). The Peabody Museum currently supports three research labs: the Gordon R. Willey Laboratory for Mesoamerican Studies, the Paleoanthropology Lab, and the Zooarchaeology Lab (Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology 2013). Current projects include a 3D scanning project on Mayan monuments (started in 2007), the Corpus of Maya Hieroglyphic Inscriptions Program (started in 1968), the Harvard Yard Archaeology Project (started in 2005), and excavations at Magdalena de Cao Viejo (started in 2004) (Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology 2013). In 2012, the Peabody Museum became part of the Harvard Museums of Science and Culture consortium, which includes six other Harvard University museums. Cross-References ▶ Heritage Museums and the Public ▶ Human Remains in Museums ▶ Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA), USA ▶ North America (USA and Canada): Museums References BETHELL, J.T., R.M. HUNT & R. SHENTON. 2004. Harvard A to Z. Cambridge (MA): Harvard University Press. BROWMAN, D.L. 2002. Frederic W. Putnam, and the rise of U.S. anthropology, 1866–1903. American Anthropologist 104(2): 508–519. Peach: Origins and Development PEABODY MUSEUM OF ARCHAEOLOGY AND ETHNOLOGY. 2013. Available at https://www.peabody.harvard.edu/ (accessed 26 April 2013). PUTNAM, F.W. 1898. Guide to the Peabody Museum of Harvard University, with a statement relating to instruction in anthropology. Salem (MA): The Salem Press Company. SPENCER, F. 1997. History of physical anthropology: an encyclopedia, Volume 1: A-L. New York: Taylor and Francis. Peach: Origins and Development Alison Weisskopf and Dorian Q. Fuller Institute of Archaeology, University College London, London, UK Basic Species Information Peaches (including nectarines), Prunus persica (L.) Batsch. syn (Amygdalus persica L.), are the edible fruit of a deciduous tree belonging to the subfamily Prunoideae (family Rosaceae), which also includes apricots, cherries, plums, and almonds. Some taxonomists maintain peaches and almonds are very closely related within the genus Amygdalus. The name peach derives from the Greek Persikon malon for “Persian apple” into Latin malum Persicum, which became pêche in French and peach in Middle English. Although first cultivated in China, the name persica stems from the pre-nineteenth-century European belief that this tree originated in Persia (Bassi & Monet 2008). Nectarines are smooth-skinned hairless varieties of peach (Prunus persica (L.) Batsch var. nucipersica (Suckow) C. K. Schneid.), and they might have originated more than once as a mutant within peach groves. Nectarine stones are indistinguishable from other peaches, meaning that archaeobotanically their origins cannot be traced, but some early written sources have been interpreted as indicating the presence of nectarines as early as 2,000 years ago in the Mediterranean. Peach: Origins and Development 5841 P Major Domestication Traits Wild forms of peach grow in central and eastern Asia and these are interfertile with cultivars (Zohary et al. 2012). Self-compatibility seems associated with cultivation. All related species are self-incompatible (Ladizinsky 1998), while under cultivation selfing assures higher fruit production rates. It is likely that the peach arrived in the Mediterranean, represented in Greek texts from Persia before 300 BCE (Zohary et al. 2012), having spread from Central Asia and northwest India earlier still. Peaches were then spread more widely in Europe by the Roman army. The earliest diploid Prunus probably arose in Central Asia splitting into the ancestral species of P. persica, which then evolved in north and northwest China (Bassi & Monet 2008). True wild peaches are generally regarded as native to northern China (Lu & Bartholomew 2003), but the progenitor populations of cultivars may be extinct given the massive anthropogenic transformation of the Chinese landscape. Some authorities point to Prunus davidiana (Carr.) as the closest wild relative (e.g., Scorza & Okie 1990), and this species is prominent in breeding research to improve peaches. P. davidiana occurs in middle elevation thickets throughout the hills of northern, western, and southwestern China (Lu & Bartholomew 2003). Wild peaches P. persica are also reported as “escapees” from cultivation especially in northwest China. There is vast diversity within the modern cultivars (Bassi & Monet 2008). Most peach subspecies have a chilling requirement of between 600 and 1,000 h and require heat to mature the crop so their range is limited to warm temperate, continental regions, or high altitudes. They are found just above 3,000 m in parts of the Himalayas. The trees can tolerate low temperatures (to 30  C) but the buds and flowers are susceptible to frost. The fruit is a drupe with a soft mesocarp and pubescent, velvety (peach), or smooth (nectarine) exocarp. The endocarp is lignified and corrugated with deep furrows and pits on the outer surface (Fig. 1). The patterning on this, including deep double groves near the suture of the Peach: Origins and Development, Fig. 1 At the left is a drawing of a peach endocarp, showing the distinctive longitudinal furrows (After Darwin 1868), at the right is a photograph of a Neolithic waterlogged peach stone (P. persica/davidiana type from Tianluoshan, Zhejiang (6500–7000 BP)) (Photo by DQ Fuller) endocarp’s two halves, allows relatively small fragments to be identified. There is a pronounced ridge along the ventral suture and sometimes a very acute tip at the apex. Inside this hard shell is the starchy kernel. The seed can contain high levels of hydrogen cyanide. Nevertheless, with detoxification it is likely that these kernels were food resources in parts of Neolithic China (Hosoya et al. 2010). P Timing and Tracking Domestication While there has been documentary evidence for peach cultivation in China for over 3,000 years (Bassi & Monet 2008), archaeological evidence is even earlier. Determining, however, when wild gathering turned to propagation remains a challenge. Sites in the middle and lower Yangtze regions (extending back to 7000–8000 BP) have peach stone finds (of either P. persica or P. davidiana), such as Bashidang, Hunan (7000–6000 BP); Chengtoushan, Hunan (4500–4000 BCE); Kuahuqiao, Zhejiang (6000–5400 BCE); and Hemudu and Tianluoshan, Zhejiang (4900–4600 BCE) (Table 1 Hosoya et al. 2010). Peaches also occur in central China, along the Yellow River region from the Yangshao period onwards P 5842 (about 6000 BP), but with more frequency from c. 5000 BP. It may be that systematic cultivation only began at this time. However, reports of peach from a Jomon site in Japan (Kiriki, Nagasaki) dating to 5500–6000 BP (D’Andrea 2007) could point to an earlier period of propagation and translocation. There can be no doubt that by 4000 BP peaches were cultivated, as it is around this time that they are first introduced to northwest India. Here, they are reported from late Neolithic Kashmir and together with apricots can be attributed to a “Chinese horizon” of crops introduced via Central Asia at this period (Boivin et al. 2012). The introduction further west into Persia remains to be better documented, but classic written sources from the fourth century imply that it was already well established there. In the Mediterranean the earliest finds are from the seventh-century BCE Heraion, Samos (Zohary et al. 2012). By the first century BCE, Romans were cultivating peaches in southern Europe, Israel, and Egypt. During the Roman period Pliny (CE 79) describes how the peach had recently been imported into Europe from Persia and Egypt from Rhodes (Bassi & Monet 2008). Peach is recorded at 32 Roman period sites in Europe, most in the south. The northern sites are military settlements so it is likely any peaches were imports (Bakkels & Jacomet 2003). A second route to Europe could have been via the Black Sea and Danube. By the Middle Ages France had become a major producer and the peach reached the Americas by the first half of the sixteenth century (Bassi & Monet 2008). The earliest mention of nectarine varieties is in the fourteenth century CE. Cross-References ▶ Agriculture: Definition and Overview ▶ Apricot: Origins and Development ▶ Archaeobotany of Early Agriculture: Macrobotany ▶ Genetics of Early Plant Domestication: DNA and aDNA Pedra Furada, Archaeology of ▶ Plant Domestication and Cultivation in Archaeology ▶ Plant Processing Technologies in Archaeology References BAKELS, C. & S. JACOMET. 2003. Access to luxury foods in central Europe during the Roman period: the archaeobotanical evidence. World Archaeology 34(3): 542-557. BASSI, D. & R. MONET. 2008. Botany and taxonomy, in D.R. Layne & D. Bassi (ed.) The peach: botany, production and uses: 1-30. Wallingford: CAB International. BOIVIN, N., D.Q. FULLER & A. CROWTHER. 2012. Old World globalization and the Columbian exchange: comparison and contrast. World Archaeology 44(3): 452-469. D’ANDREA, C.A. 2007. The dispersal of domesticated plants into north eastern Japan, in T. Denham & P. White (ed.) The emergence of agriculture: a global view: 154-173. Oxford: Routledge. DARWIN, C. 1868. The variation of animals and plants under domestication. London: John Murray. HOSOYA, L.A., M. WOLLSTONECROFT, D. FULLER & L. QIN. 2010. Experimental pilot study of peach/apricot kernel detoxification: for reconstruction of Chinese early rice farmers broad spectrum subsistence strategy, in K. Makibayayashi & M. Uchikado (ed.) Studies of landscape history of East Asian inland seas. Kyoto: Neomap Project, Research Institute for Humanity and Nature (RHIN). LADIZINSKY, G. 1998. Plant evolution under domestication. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers. LU, L. & B. BARTHOLOMEW. 2003. Amygdalus, in Z.Y. Wu & P.H. Raven (ed.) Flora of China, Volume 9: 391-395. St. Louis: Missouri Botanical Garden. SCORZA, R. & W.R. OKIE. 1990. Peaches, in J.R.B.J.N. Moore (ed.) Genetic resources of temperate fruit and nut crops: 117-231. Wageningen: International Society of Horticultural Science. ZOHARY, D., M. HOPF & E. WEISS. 2012. Domestication of plants in the Old World. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Pedra Furada, Archaeology of Fabio Parenti Istituto Italiano di Paleontologia Umana, Rome, Italy Introduction The peopling of America is still one of the most controversial issues of world prehistory, Pedra Furada, Archaeology of 5843 P Pedra Furada, Archaeology of, Fig. 1 Aerial view of Baixão da Pedra Furada, looking North. The canyon is entailed in the Devonian Serra Grande formation. White arrow pointing to shelter. The total height of cuesta is about 150 m. Modified from Parenti (2001). regarding its chronology, number and routes of population waves, and palaeoanthropology. As well as some other case studies, the “question” is the result of (seldom undeclared) contentions in different domains, such as methodological perspectives, intrinsic data limitations and – finally – academic traditions and relationships. From 1927 onward, when the discovery at Folsom (New Mexico, USA) of a lithic spearpoint plunged into the ribs of an extinct bison symbolically launched the acceptance of Paleo-Indian peopling of North America, many sites have been proposed as much older than the limit between Pleistocene and Holocene, conventionally fixed at 12 ky BP. Few of them, nevertheless, have survived careful revision and screening of their evidence, for chronological, taphonomic or strictly archaeological reasons (Dillehay & Meltzer 1991; Dillehay 2010). Definition Pedra Furada (the abbreviation of Toca do Boqueirão da Pedra Furada) is a sandstone rockshelter in the southeastern portion of Piaui state, North-Eastern Brazil (8 50’ 09” South, 42 33’20 West), 30 km northeast of the town of São Raimundo Nonato (Fig. 1). The relevance of the site is due to its very old dates, spanning from 5 to at least 60 ky BP for a sequence of occupation layers and stone tools, and to the consequent debate issued about the chronology of first peopling of the Americas. The site is very well dated by a coherent radiocarbon sequence, but it did not provide human fossil remains, so the burden of proof of the consistence of the human presence leans entirely on the cultural origin of archaeological structures, hearths and lithic industries, just the matter of contention. The site has been excavated first by Niéde Guidon between 1978 and 1987, and then by Fabio Parenti from 1987 to 1988 (ongoing report in Guidon & Delibrias 1986; Delibrias et al. 1988; Parenti et al. 1990; Bahn 1993), and entirely published by the latter (Parenti 2001); new researches are still (2012) underway by a French–Brazilian team led by Eric Boeda. P P 5844 Historical Background Pedra Furada, as well as many important sites in South-Eastern Piaui, was discovered in the seventies by a French–Brazilian team led by Niéde Guidon, a former student of André Leroi-Gourhan, sponsor of the Serra da Capivara National Park (http://www.brasil. gov.br/localizacao/parques-nacionais-e-reservasambientais/parque-nacional-serra-da-capivara-pi %20) and responsible from 1987 onward for the Fundação Museu do Homem Americano, an important international research center in São Raimundo Nonato (www.fumdham.org). The team was, at that time, surveying the area of the Siluro-Devonian sandstone cuesta of southern Piaui, where many painted shelters had been signaled by local authorities. Some of them were tested, in search for a firm chronology of figurative and geometric prehistoric paintings and engravings, so richly diffused in brazilian Planalto, Amazon and Nordeste regions. Pedra Furada itself was first tested in 1978 and 1980, obtaining surprisingly old (final Pleistocene) radiocarbon dates from charcoal and cuvette fireplaces. Regular excavations took place in 1982, 1984, 1985, and 1987 in the western portion of the shelter (grossly 30 % of the whole filling), under the direction of Niéde Guidon, and from 1987 to 1988, Fabio Parenti led excavations on the remaining 60 % of the eastern side. During the 10 years of excavation process at Pedra Furada, some important changes took place, both in American prehistory itself, such as the research in Monte Verde (Chile) (Meltzer et al. 1997) and the contention on some “robust” Pre-Clovis sites as Meadowcroft (USA), and in methodological and technical terms: a more generalized adoption of middle-range strategy in South American archaeology and the diffusion of thermoluminescence (TL) and accelerator-massspectrometry (AMS) dating. For almost 10 years, Pedra Furada has been the spear point of the oldest South American sites challenging the Clovis-first model for the peopling of Americas, but today its informative potential is largely underestimated, both because of its uniqueness in South American archaeological context, but Pedra Furada, Archaeology of also because of the intrinsic nature of the debate on antiquity of peopling, with an exhausting succession of announcements and dismissals, and the lack of fully Pleistocenic human remains in Americas. Key Issues/Current Debates The sheltered area (around 700 m2) is located at bottom of a sandstone overhang, 70 m high, composed by cross-stratified estuarine sandstone of Serra Grande Formation of the Piaui-Maranhão basin. The site, facing South, is quite open to sunshine during November and December, but gently shadowed in the rest of the year, providing a remarkable standpoint at the entrance of one of main canyons of the region (Boqueiro~es), as proven by number of archaeological sites upstream (Fig. 1). The shelter is surrounded, East and West, by two waterfalls, still active today, eroding the uppermost conglomerate of the cliff (Fig. 2). The eastern waterfall, the highest, at the bottom of which there is a talus of quartz cobbles, is the main source of raw material (and geofacts) both in Pleistocene and lower Holocene times, and this is what led to the dismissal of the oldest archaeological units by many authors. The features of gravitative fracture occasionally observed on some pebbles and cobbles have been measured both on western and eastern waterfalls on a sample of 2,000 stones >32 mm, and applied to the selection of purported lithic industries (details in Parenti 2001: 135–150). It resulted that the waterfalls produced no cobbles with more than three clear flake-scars >10 mm, no bifacial trimmed pieces, nor uncortical butts on pseudo-flakes. The filling of the shelter, as is usual in the evolution of sandstone walls in tropical climate, has been allowed by repeated block collapses barring and protecting endogenous and anthropic sediment from erosion. The first are composed by disaggregating sand and sandstone slabs from the roof and by quartz cobbles from uppermost conglomerate layers; the last, anthropic component is made from cobbles and pebbles for stoneworking and boarding of fireplaces, selected Pedra Furada, Archaeology of 5845 P Pedra Furada, Archaeology of, Fig. 2 Wall sections and position of waterfalls: (1) dripline; (2) unexcavated deposit (1988); (3) top surface interested by waterfalls; (4) Devonian cross-stratified sandstone of Serra Grande formation; (5) conglomerate with quartz cobbles; (6) conglomerate with quartz pebbles; (7) maximum occupied surface in Pedra Furada phase (Pleistocene), as defined by structures and hearths. Modified from Parenti (2001). P on the talus or transported from outside, and the mineral fraction of past organic components such as plant or animal remains. Because the very acid siliceous sediment did not allowed conservation of bone remains older than 6–8 ky BP, we do know anything about Pleistocene fauna in this site, which makes correlation with opposite, fossiliferous, limestone caves (1.5 km) essential. The whole archaeological sequence is contained in the 5 m of sediment fill, with an average East to West dip of 10 and a slight concavity in the middle (Fig. 3). The sandy and gravelous sedimentary matrix contains several charcoal lenses derived from the gentle slopewash of fireplaces, the stony boarders of which have sometimes been partially removed but mainly preserved in the uppermost eastern side. Excavation technique from 1982 onward has been by “natural layers”, i.e., simply paying careful attention to sedimentary structures and strata formation, at that time quite an innovative strategy in the context of Brazilian archaeology. A total of 2,050 m3 of sandy and gravelous sediments were removed, leaving a bulk for future research and specific analysis that was P 5846 Pedra Furada, Archaeology of Pedra Furada, Archaeology of, Fig. 3 Western face of preserved block: (1) fine sand with ashes, charcoal and botanical macroremains (historical period); (2) fine sand, incised on the southern side by a channel dug in 1982; (3) medium sand with ashes and charcoal, with termite galleries; (4) medium sand with gravels; (5) charcoal lens in fine and medium sandy matrix; (6) medium sand with gravel; (7) charcoal lens in fine and medium sandy matrix, Southern limit is blurred; (8) medium sand with gravel; (9) sandy lens with charcoal, less than upper units, with blurred limits; (10) medium sand with some quartz pebbles in southern part, sandstones slabs; (11) bottom sandstone block collapse. Vertical scale refers to the whole height of the deposit. Modified from Parenti (2001). partly excavated by Boeda’s team in 2010 but is still unpublished. Sediment inside the drip-line was dry-sieved (1 mm mesh) and every macroscopic remain was collected, mainly for the recovery of the overabundant charcoal fragments, both for dating and anthracological purposes. Basic sedimentological analysis was performed by Joel Pellerin (Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, Caen, France) on the main section, and a detailed study of the remaining eastern block was conducted in 1996 by Evelyne Débard (Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, Lyon, France), but it is still unpublished. The chronology of the site was established on the basis of 55 (14 Holocene, 41 Pleistocene) coherent radiocarbon dates by five different laboratories with standard 14C, AMS with acid-base-acid (ABA) and acid-base-wet (ABOX) pre-treatments for samples older than 35 ky (Santos et al. 2003). The whole sequence is presented in Fig. 4. Moreover, 39 dates have been performed on heated quartz pebbles of the lowermost units of the eastern sector, yielding ages comprised between 35 and 150 ky BP (Valladas et al. 2003). The units dated both by radiocarbon and TL show an acceptable concordance, but the lowermost TL dated samples, reaching 160 ky, have been skeptically considered by the authors themselves because of possible reworking of the lower deposit or natural origin of fires. In sum, the Pedra Furada sequence is fully upper-Pleistocene and chronology is not a matter of contention per se, but the cultural content of it has been regarded as a fanciful conjecture by some colleagues (Meltzer et al. 1994), and, despite detailed reply (Parenti et al. 1996), the site is still waiting for full acceptance by archaeological literature. Adopting the minimum duration for the total sequence (55 ky), we can roughly evaluate an average sedimentation rate of about 1 mm per 10 years, a serious challenge for any reasonable attempt of reconstructing “past behaviors” or similar paleoethnological mirages in this kind of deposit, which is, at least in the Pleistocene, a cumulative palimpsest (sensu Bailey) of probably occasional, episodic, visits for raw material procurement, or a temporary camp for other (archaeozoologically) unknown purposes; in the Pedra Furada, Archaeology of 5847 P Pedra Furada, Archaeology of, Fig. 4 Uncalibrated radiocarbon chronology, cultural phases and sedimentary column. Note main hiatuses: 10.4–14.3 ky BP, 22–25 ky BP. Sedimentological symbols refer to main, central, and section. Artifacts are described in detail in Parenti 2001: Plates 54, 83, 94. (a) 18637: bifacial trimmed pebble, quartzite; (b) 17090: centripetal core, quartzite; (c) 15778: bifacial trimmed pebble, quartzite. Reprinted from Santos et. al. 2003, with permission from Elsevier. P Holocene, the site became a more substantial “central place” in the context of ecotone landscape of sandstone cuesta, as strongly indicated by structured stratified hearths, lithic complex reduction sequences and art depiction. On the basis of radiocarbon chronology, the position and correlation of sedimentary bodies, the sequence was subdivided in six units (Fig. 4), three for the upper Pleistocene, named Pedra Furada (PF) 1–3 layers, two for the lower Serra Talhada (ST) 1–2 and one for middle Holocene Agreste (AG). For the Pleistocenic phase (PF), this is partly an arbitrary subdivision, because the main sedimentological and cultural traits do not show relevant changes, either in lithic tradition or regarding the general pattern of site exploitation (Fig. 5). Archaeological features have been described and interpreted on the basis of a morphological and technical analysis of their conservation and construction. In fact, the main goal at the time of the excavation was twofold: firstly, the distinction between anthropic and natural (sedimentary) origin in the disposition of structures (i.e., arrangement of cobbles, pebbles and sandstone slabs); secondly, the identification of the agents P 5848 Pedra Furada, Archaeology of Pedra Furada, Archaeology of, Fig. 5 Simplified matrix of relative chronology and position of structures and hearths. Modified from Parenti (2001). Pedra Furada, Archaeology of 5849 P Pedra Furada, Archaeology of, Fig. 6 Left: hearth N 30, boarded by sandstone fragments and quartz cobbles, Trench 6; note the fine gravelly matrix of the sediment. Top right: position of structures in Trench 6, phase PF 2, between 25 and 33 ky BP. Hearth N 30 in red. Bottom right: vertical situation along the 1 m band. Modified from Parenti (2001). responsible for combustion. Bush fires in tropical landscape, both semi-arid as today, or wetter as in final Pleistocene, are trivial and we cannot exclude them at all; but they usually leave homogeneous combustion traces on the uppermost soil, at fairly low temperature. Moreover, the average 10 dip of the eastern talus of Pedra Furada caused episodic scour of smaller or lighter sedimentary particles, such as charcoal. In fact, the highest density of charcoal remains was recovered in the middle, lowest, portion of the site and so the observed, apparently “unheated”, upstream structures could have perfectly pertained to fireplaces. Because of these taphonomic problems, we paid special attention to the position of heated stones all over the excavations; this led to the publication of an ongoing report (Parenti et al. 1990) in which, thanks to the contribution of TL techniques, we were able to demonstrate the nonchaotic position of heated elements of some of the oldest hearths of Pedra Furada 1 layer, i.e., their anthropic origin. On this basis, the following study (Parenti 2001: 109–132) of the whole body of identified structures (156, 86 of which were in Pedra Furada phase) was classified mainly on physical (presence of heated elements or clearly associated charcoal or both) and morphological (form, depth, number and contiguity of elements) criteria. For many stone features, TL samples showing no clear macroscopic evidence of fire (reddish cobbles or concentrated charcoal) were not available, so they can be arranged both in the fireplaces or simple, apparently unheated, structures categories. However, in some cases, well-defined stone circles have also been observed in Pedra Furada layers, such as the astonishing stone ellipse in Fig. 6, well far away from the talus slope and just close to the most protected area of the site, excluding fancy interpretation about its “natural” origins. This structure has not been directly dated because of the absence of charcoal inside, but it pertains to the PF2 layer, with an approximated age of 30 ky BP. The spatial distribution of structures, both heated and not, shows a clear concentration in the easternmost sector, just below the best preserved painted panels of Nordeste (lower Holocenic) figurative “tradition”. Because the resolution potential of the site is very weak (a feature of 10 cm height could have taken an average thousand years to be covered and sealed!), it is impossible to determine the duration or the contemporaneity of the elements of some heaps of structures as, for example, that of Fig. 6. Density of structures at Pedra Furada is measured as total surface/time and changes along time, not only for obvious taphonomic causes (the younger the layer the richest the content of preserved structures), but also for (unknown) cultural and ecological reasons. In the PF phase, all over the second half of upper Pleistocene, density P P 5850 is higher in the PF2 layer, and not at the beginning (PF1) nor at the Pleistocene-Holocene transition (PF3), when the site seems almost abandoned or very rarely frequented (cumulative distribution of PF phase in Fig. 2: 7). The same is true for Holocene layers (Serra Talhada and Agreste phases), when the shelter, undoubtedly, had a more permanent and, maybe, ritual function in the context of a dense settlement system of the whole Nordeste: in the lower Holocene (Serra Talhada), density is higher than in middle Holocene (Agreste) when a critical decrease both in demographic and cultural terms seems to have affected the whole central Brazil, as already pointed out by Araujo et al. (2005). Stone tools at Pedra Furada in Pleistocenic layers are the core of contention. After having been identified as such on the basis of a detailed study of natural forces acting on the talus cobbles from waterfalls, 595 stone artifacts from quartz and quartzite cobbles and pebbles have been described in Pedra Furada phase, subdivided as follows: 196 in PF1, 273 in PF2 and 126 in PF3. Among them, some are undoubtedly trimmed with unifacial or bifacial technique (Figs. 4, 7, 8), but many others – possibly geofacts – exibit at least clear relevant macrowears (Parenti 2001: Plates 74, 75, 92, 93, 97). Quartzitic cobbles have been flaked, mainly in order to obtain expedient cutting edges or cores, but intensity of raw material exploitation changes throughout both the Pedra Furada, Serra Talhada and Agreste phases, as shown by the ratio of the number of flake scars >10 mm to weight (kg), which is as follows: PF1: 7.5; PF2: 6; PF3: 5.8; ST1: 10; ST2: 15: AG: 8. These data point to a lesser exploitation of local low material in both of the last layers of each phase: PF3 and AG. The ratio of bifacial to unifacial core tools obtained from local raw material decreased constantly from Pleistocene to Holocene (Table 1), with a slight increase in the ST2 layer, when the shelter probably gained its maximum population density. In spite of the ambiguous nature of some naturally trimmed (but probably used) flakes or fragments, the only retained by some hasty critics, many artifacts from Pleistocenic layers Pedra Furada, Archaeology of Pedra Furada, Archaeology of, Table1 Ratio of bifacial to unifacial trimmed pebbles on local raw material along time. AG ST 2 ST 1 PF 3 PF 2 PF 1 UNIF. 6 33 35 15 30 26 BIF. 1 10 7 5 17 21 TOT. CORE TOOLS 7 43 42 20 47 47 BIF./UNI. 0.17 0.30 0.20 0.33 0.57 0.81 % BIF. 14 23 17 25 36 45 Unif.: unifacial; Fof: bifacial; tot. core tools: total core tools; Bif./Uni: Bifacial to unifacial; % Bif.: percentage of bifacial. show clear evidence of technically coherent trimming sequences, such as the examples exposed in Figs. 7 and 8. Many others are exposed in detail in Parenti (2001, plates 53-55, 57, 60, 62, 65, 67, 71, 73, 81, 83, 87). For the whole Pedra Furada phase, from a strictly typological point of view – perhaps scarcely useful in the case of informal tools – the toolkit is composed by choppers and chopping-tools, cores, simple scrapers and trimmed flakes, with some notched pieces and denticulates. After a chronostratigraphic or archaeological gap between 14.3 and 10.4 uncal. ky BP in the first half of Holocene (i.e., Paleoindian and Archaic period in cursory subdivision of Brazilian prehistory), the groups of Serra Talhada and Agreste phases, although maintaining the exploitation of local cobbles for the obtention of cores and heavy-duty tools, shifted to a more complex lithic technology, integrating different raw materials with more intense core reduction sequences; this led to a true débitage, especially on exogenous brown chert, for the obtention of a typical unifacial toolkit: scrapers, limaces, and end-scrapers, some of which have been thermally treated (Parenti 2001, Pl. 100). The persistence of a cruder tool manufacture with local raw material has been often observed in brazilian prehistory until very recent times, and is documented also in the nearby shelter of Sitio do Meio (Parenti et al. in print). Some 950 red and white figures are painted on Pedra Furada sandstone wall, apparently spatially Pedra Furada, Archaeology of 5851 P Pedra Furada, Archaeology of, Fig. 7 PF1 multi-purpose artifact, 18467: unifacially trimmed quartzite pebble, with flaking sequence: (1) two parallel flake-scars A and B; (2) longitudinal splitting C, because of its use as hammer; (3) centripetal flake-scars D and retouch macrowears on distal cutting edge E. Modified from Parenti (2001). P uncorrelated with the archaeological features below. In other sites of the area, figures of the same “style” or “tradition” have been dated, for the most, at the first half of Holocene, a very rich period for central and Northeastern Brazil from a demographic and cultural point of view, just before the so called “archaic gap” of Brazilian prehistory (Araujo et al. 2005). Organic remains have been recovered only in Holocenic deposits, because of the acidic (Ph4) siliceous sediment. In Agreste e Serra Talhada phases, scanty bone fragments of medium to small extant taxa are documented, but a rich coprolite assemblage (both animal and human) has been recovered, providing precious insights about lower Holocenic vegetation, archaeobotanic practices (Chaves & Renault-Miskowsky 1996; Chaves 2000) and palaeoparasitology (Araujo et al. 2008). This last, particularly, has (indirectly) proved the existence of at least two maritime P 5852 Pedra Furada, Archaeology of Pedra Furada, Archaeology of, Fig. 8 Top: PF2, 16998: unifacially trimmed quartzite pebble, probably a core. Average flaking angle of 70 ; cortical portion preserved in the middle; the flaking sequence has been established on the basis of the disposition both of flake-scars and visible lancettes inside them; bottom: two PF2 cores; both have been obtained by the same trimming sequence. 4430–1: orthogonal core on quartz cobble. 15891: orthogonal core obtained on quartzite cobble; lower view: double, synchronous, split fracture, due to percussion. Modified from Parenti (2001). migration waves to Americas in the early lower Holocene, because Helminths eggs recovered in human coprolites from ST2 layer cannot have been survive in cold Beringian climate (Montenegro et al. 2006). Charcoal remains from fireplaces, or purported natural fires or both, have been entirely collected from top to bottom of Pedra Furada layers and their anthracological study (under the responsibility of Rita Scheel, Museu Nacional, Rio de Janeiro) will provide one of the most long lasting palaeobotanical sequences in the Neotropic. In the context of Brazilian archaeology, Pedra Furada evidence has been received with skepticism by many scholars, for pure academic reasons, but also because the majority of them lack familiarity with the Northeastern landscape and geoarchaeology. In any case, between the end of excavations (1988) and the final report (2001), Pedra Furada gained useful complementary information from some other important sites in the region, especially from close limestone caves and fossil-bearing deposits, such as Toca da Barra do Antonião, Serrote do Artur, Pedra Furada, Archaeology of Serrote do Sansão, Garrincho (Guérin & Faure 2008). In this last site, some 20 km SW from Pedra Furada, human fossilized remains (one parietal fragment, one lower incisive and a fragment of jawbone with an upper molar) were recovered below a calcitic duricrust dated at 10,020  290 uncal. years BP (GIF 9335), along with a rich Pleistocene megafauna directly dated at 12,170  40 uncal. years BP (BETA 136204) (Guidon et al. 2000). They pertain to Homo sapiens, but their “archaic”–quite robust traits – according to the authors, point to a local development of prior populations derived from the ancestral stock that firstly peopled the region. International Perspectives Today (2012), the whole issue of the Pleistocene peopling of the America is quite “frozen” in mainstream literature, and this is not, in my opinion, an unfavorable situation for the progress of a “normal” science in Kuhn’s terminology. In South America and Brazil, particularly, prehistoric research with a more prominent palaeoenvironmental and geoarchaeological tone is finally on the way, which is of crucial relevance because of the overabundant attention paid to more visible phenomena (such as rock art or formal lithic typology) in the past decades. Peda Furada has been of great importance for the debate of the antiquity and modalities of peopling of South America, and still holds consistent potential as a reference site for eastern Brazilian lowlands. With its continuous paleobotanic and well dated record, the shelter can fill the geographic gap in paleoclimatic sequence of tropical South America, between the better studied areas of the Amazon basin and Southern Brazil. From a strictly anthropic point of view, Pedra Furada – besides being a reference at regional scale – can be integrated in a true global debate about (dis)continuity and gaps in the archaeological record of many area of the world, such as South Africa, central Asia, northern Europe and many others. 5853 P Future Directions Pedra Furada has not yet definitely and fully been accepted in archaeological literature, and it will probably remain in this limbo situation until the discovery of robust and dated palaeoanthropological evidence in the region. Nevertheless, it is worth noting that the site has produced some true testable hypotheses about palaeoenvironments and regional settlement systems, as follows: (1) a clear cultural discontinuity between upper Pleistocene and lower Holocene, as suggested by lithic traditions; (2) the existence of a humid phase between 10 and 9 uncal. Ky BP, as suggested by gravel lens of unit 3 (Fig. 3) and by the erosion and falling rock at nearby shelters of Perna, Sitio do Meio and Antoniao; (3) weak interaction between man and megafauna, the former being in no way responsible for the (mostly Holocenic) disappearance of the latter; (4) Pleistocenic groups had, on the whole, a weak territoriality, probably correlated with the very low demographic density, indicated by the scanty site occupation in this period, the absence of an intra-site web system, and the weak transport of lithic products outside the shelter; (5) the (rare) Pleistocene sites of the region could have a lesser proportion of coretools, because these latter are overabundant at Pedra Furada, given the proximity of cuesta cliff; (6) the absence of chert and calcedony in the PF phase is due to its non visibility for pedogenetic reasons or for cultural causes (see point 4) or both; (7) the bimodal distribution of structure dimension in Pleistocene layers is due to functional reasons: the smaller could have been combustion structures, while the larger probably served as contention, space arrangement or pavement structures; (8) at the very beginning of Holocene a true regional integrated system is in place, in which some sites have specialized functions as quarry or ritual place; (9) in lower Holocene, local quartzite has been heath-treated for the making of some formal tools; and (10) rock art of Nordeste tradition (lower Holocene) is not specially bound to a specific site function. P P 5854 New research based on the relevant Pedra Furada archaeological sequence will be useful and fully acknowledged only if it is truly interrelated with palaeoenvironmental studies in a continental perspective. Cross-References ▶ Archaeobotany ▶ Bones: Preservation and Conservation ▶ Charcoal: Preservation and Conservation ▶ Conservation and Management of Archaeological Sites ▶ Conservation and Preservation in Archaeology in the Twenty-First Century ▶ Cultural Landscapes: Conservation and Preservation ▶ Dating Techniques in Archaeological Science ▶ First Australians: Origins ▶ Haynes, Jr., C. Vance ▶ Hrdlička, Aleš ▶ Hunter-Gatherers, Archaeology of ▶ Meadowcroft: Geography and Culture ▶ Monte Verde, Archaeology of ▶ North American Megafauna Extinction: Climate or Overhunting? ▶ Paleoindians ▶ Peopling of the Americas ▶ Serra Da Capivara National Park ▶ South America: Lithic Industries ▶ World Heritage List: Criteria, Inscription, and Representation References ARAUJO, A.M., K. REINHARD, L.F.M. FERREIRA & S.L. GARDNER. 2008. Parasites as probes for prehistoric human migrations? Trends in Parasitology 693: 9-16. ARAUJO, A.G.M., S.W.A. NEVES, L.B. PILO & J.P.V. ATUI. 2005. Holocene dryness and human occupation in Brazil during the “Archaic gap”. Quaternary Research 64: 298-307. BAHN, P.G. 1993. 50,000-year-old Americans of Pedra Furada. Nature 362: 114-115. Pedra Furada, Archaeology of CHAVES, S.A.M. 2000. Estudo palinológico de coprólitos pré-históricos holocenos coletados na Toca do Boqueirão do Sitio da Pedra Furada—Contribuições paleoetnológicas, paleoclimáticas e paleoambientais para a região sudeste do Piaui – Brasil. Revista de Arqueolgia e Etnologia 10: 103-120. CHAVES, S.A.M. & J. RENAULT-MISKOVSKY. 1996. Paléoethnologie, paléoenvironnement et paléoclimatologie du Piauı́, Brésil: apport de l’étude pollinique de coprolithes humains recueillis dans le gisement préhistorique de “Pedra Furada”. Comptes Rendus de l’Académie des Sciences de Paris 322 (IIa): 10531060. DELIBRIAS, G., N. GUIDON & F. PARENTI. 1988. The Toca do Boqueirão do Sı́tio da Pedra Furada: stratigraphy and chronology. Archaeometry: Australasian Studies S3-S11. DILLEHAY, T.D. 2010. Early population flows in the western hemisphere, in T.H. Holloway (ed.) A companion to Latin American history: 10-27. Malden: Blackwell Publishing. DILLEHAY, T.D. & D. MELTZER. (ed.) 1991. The first Americans: search and research. Boca Raton: CRC Press. GUERIN, C. & M. FAURE. 2008. La biodiversité mammalienne au Pléistocène supérieur—Holocène ancien dans la Région du Parc National Serra da Capivara (SE du Piauı́, Brésil). II Simposio internacional "O povoamento das Américas", 16-21 déc. 2006, FUMDHAMentos. Revista da Fundação Museu do Homem Americano 7: 80-93. GUIDON, N. & G. DELIBRIAS. 1986. Carbon-14 dates point to man in the Americas 32,000 years ago. Nature 6072: 769-771. GUIDON, N., E. PEYRE, C. GUERIN & Y. COPPENS. 2000. Resultados da datação de dentes humanos da Toca do Garrincho, Piauı́ – Brasil. Anais da X Reunia Cientifica da Sociedade de Arqueologia Brasileira (Clio, Sèrie Arqueologica 14): 75-86. MELTZER, D.J., J.M. ADOVASIO & T.D. DILLEHAY. 1994. On a Pleistocene human occupation at Pedra Furada, Brazil. Antiquity 68: 695-714. MELTZER, D.J., D.K. GRAYSON, G. ARDILA, R.A.W. BARKER, D.F. DINCAUZE, C. VANCE HAYNES, F. MENA, L. NUNEZ & D.J. STANFORD. 1997. On the Pleistocene antiquity of Monte Verde, southern Chile. American Antiquity 62 (4): 659-663. MONTENEGRO, A., A. ARAUJO, M. EBY, L.F. FERREIRA, R. HETHERINGTON & A.J. WEAVER. 2006. Parasites, paleoclimates and the peopling of the Americas. Using the hookworm to time the Clovis migration. Current Anthropology 47(1): 193-200. PARENTI, F. 2001. Le gisement quaternaire de la Pedra Furada (Piaui, Brésil). Stratigraphie, chronologie, evolution culturelle. Paris: Editions Recherechs sur le Civilisations. PARENTI, F., R. MERCIER & H. VALLADAS. 1990. The oldest hearths of Pedra Furada, Brasil: thermoluminescence analysis of heated stones. Current Research in the Pleistocene 7: 36-38. Peiligang: Agriculture and Domestication PARENTI, F., M. FONTUGNE & C. GUERIN. 1996. Pedra Furada in Brazil, and its "presumed" evidence: limitations and potential of the available data. Antiquity 70: 416-421. PARENTI, F., G. AIMOLA, C. ANDRADE & L. MOTA. In print. Late Pleistocene and early Holocene at Sitio do Meio (southern Piaui, Brazil): a revision of stratigraphy and comparison with Pedra Furada. Paper presented at XVI UISPP Congress, Florianópolis, 2011. SANTOS, G.M., M.I. BIRD, F. PARENTI, L.K. FIFIELD, N. GUIDON & P.A. HAUSLADEN. 2003. A revised chronology of the lowest occupation layer of Pedra Furada rock shelter, Piaui, Brazil: the Pleistocene peopling of the Americas. Quaternary Science Reviews 22: 2303-2310. VALLADAS, H., N. MERCIER, M. MICHAB, J.L. JORON, J.L. REYSS & N. GUIDON. 2003. TL age-estimates of burnt quartz pebbles from the Toca do Boqueirão da Pedra Furada (Piaui, northeastern Brazil). Quaternary Science Reviews 22: 1257-1263. Further Reading ARAUJO, A., K. REINHARD, L.F.M. FERREIRA & S.L. GARDNER. 2008. Parasites as probes for prehistoric human migrations? Trends in Parasitology 693: 9-16. BARNOSKY, A.D. & E.L. LINDSEY. 2010. Timing of Quaternary megafaunal extinction in South America in relation to human arrival and climate change. Quaternary International 217(1-2): 10-29. BRYAN A. L. & R. GRUHN. 2003. Some difficulties in modeling the original peopling of the Americas. Quaternary International 109-110: 175-179. GUIDON, N., A.M. PESSIS, F. PARENTI, C. GUERIN, E. PEYRE & G.M. DOS SANTOS. 2002. Pedra Furada, Brazil: Paleoindians, paintings, and paradoxes. Athena Review. Journal of Archaeology, History, and Exploration 3(2): 42-52. HUBBE, M. 2007. Early Holocene survival of megafauna in South America. Journal of Biogeography 34: 1642-1646. RIODA, V.,F. CANDELATO, L. MOTA & F. PARENTI. 2011. Jazidas de rochas silicosas na área do Parque Nacional Serra da Capivara (Piauı́, Brasil): primeiros dados geoarqueológicos. Revista do Museu de Arqueologia e Etnologia 21: 103-113. Peiligang: Agriculture and Domestication Li Liu Department of East Asian Languages and Cultures, Stanford University, Stanford, CA, USA Basic Site Overview Peiligang (2 ha) is an early Neolithic site, located near the Peiligang village in Xinzheng county, 5855 P Henan Province. It was first discovered in the 1960s, and subsequently excavated in four seasons during the 1970s. Its cultural deposits measured 1–2 m in depth, and within the excavated area of 2,615 m2, archaeologists found 22 ash pits, one kiln, and 114 burials. The site dates to c. 6200–5600 BCE (Kaifeng 1978; Institute of Archaeology 1984, 2010: 126-141). After these excavations, more sites sharing similar material assemblages with Peiligang were discovered in central Henan, and collectively named the Peiligang culture. To date more than 100 Peiligang culture sites have been identified, distributed over a large area of the middle Yellow River valley, including mainly the Huanghuai Plain in central Henan and the Yiluo basin in western Henan. Peiligang sites can be classified into two types in terms of their environmental settings: those on the alluvial plains and those on hilly areas. Sites of the former type (lowland) tend to be larger in size, with thicker deposits and more elaborate material assemblages, such as Jiahu (5 ha) in Wuyang county and Tanghu (30 ha) in Xinzhengcounty. On the other hand, sites of the latter type (upland) appear to be smaller in size, with thinner deposits, less variety among artifacts, and pottery vessels of simpler form, made more crudely. These contrasting traits may reflect different subsistence-residential strategies and various levels of social complexity. The sites on alluvial plains may have had higher levels of sedentism and more complex social organization, while some of those in hilly areas are likely to have been seasonal camp sites or small villages (Liu & Chen 2012: 141-150). Peiligang culture sites are further divided into two regional variants based on their geographical distribution and material remains; these are the Peiligang type in the north and the Jiahu type in the south. Some 40 radiocarbon dates from ten sites show that most Peiligang sites date to c. 6200–5500 BCE, although the earliest phase at the Jiahu site dates to as early as 7000 BCE (Institute of Archaeology 2010: 126-141). Pottery of the Peiligang culture is characterized by various functional types, distinguishable as cooking, serving, and storage vessels, many of P P 5856 Peiligang: Agriculture and Domestication 4 3 2 1 6 9 5 8 7 10 I 11 15 13 12 16 14 18 20 1,5,10,12. 17 19 0 2~4, 6~9,11,13,14,18. 21 10 0 15~17,19. 10 0 20,21. 10 0 10 Peiligang: Agriculture and Domestication, Fig. 1 Peiligang culture pottery (After Institute of Archaeology 2010: Fig. 3–10) which are customarily referred to as tripods, due to their three-legged design (Fig. 1). Lithic implements include both chipped and ground tools, and the latter are morphologically classified to axes, adzes, chisels, spades, sickles, and knives. Microliths have also been found. Grinding stones made of sandstone, including slabs and elongate handstones, have often been uncovered from burials (Fig. 2). Most dwellings were small semi-subterraneous houses, normally less than 10 m2 in size. They were round, oval, square, or irregular in shape. Deceased were often buried in cemeteries, separated from Peiligang: Agriculture and Domestication 5857 P 3 2 1 4 7 8 5 6 9 10 I P I I 13 14 1~9. 11 10. 11~14. 0 10 0 0 10 10 12 Peiligang: Agriculture and Domestication, Fig. 2 Peiligang culture stone tools (After Institute of Archaeology 2010: Fig. 3–11) P 5858 Peiligang: Agriculture and Domestication residential areas. Tombs were rectangular shafts with single interment, but some secondary burials with multiple interments have also been found. A majority of tombs was associated with grave goods, including pottery vessels and stone tools, which seem utilitarian in nature. The quantities of grave goods vary among tombs, ranging between one and a dozen in most cases. At Jiahu, however, some tombs were furnished with ritual objects, such as bone flutes and turtle shell implements, a phenomenon rarely seen in other sites. Evidence of Early Agriculture Several Peiligang culture sites have revealed millet remains (Setaria italica), and Jiahu has revealed rice remains (Oryza sp.). These are among the earliest domesticated cereals in North China. Floral remains recovered from Peiligang sites, however, are more heavily weighted toward wild plants (e.g., soybean, acorns, walnuts, hazelnuts, jujube, plums, and water caltrops) than toward cultigens (rice and millet) (Table 1). The importance of wild plants in the Peiligang subsistence is supported by Peiligang: Agriculture and Domestication, Table 1 Plant remains from major Peiligang culture sites (Liu & Chen 2012) Site Jiahu Cultigen Rice Peiligang Possible foxtail millet Possible millet Shawoli Egou Shigu Shuiquan Tieshenggou Wuluo Xipo Foxtail millet Fudian Foxtail millet Wild plants Wild rice, acorn (Quercus sp.), water caltrop, tubers, lotus root, walnut, wild grape, soybean Walnut, Plum, jujube Walnut, jujube Acorn (Q. acutissima), walnut, jujube Hazelnut, walnut, jujube, elm fruit Acorn (cf. Q. variabilis), walnut (Juglansmandshurica), jujube (Zizyphus jujube) Fruits and nuts Nuts, foxtail grass, Panic, mannagrass functional study of grinding stones, which occupy substantially high proportions of the Peiligang culture toolkits. Starch and usewear analyses of grinding stones from Egou and Shigu indicate that they were used for processing acorns, beans, tubers and millet (Liu et al. 2010). Dog and pig were domesticated, while a wide range of wild animal species was hunted, such as deer, wild boar, raccoon dog, and rabbit. Fishing was also a part of subsistence economy (Henan 1999). Peiligang culture has long been regarded as having achieved a substantial level of agriculture, but the archaeological record shows that the people actually practiced broad-spectrum subsistence strategies, in which food production was only a minor component of the economic system. Cross-References ▶ Chinese Field Methods ▶ Jiahu: Agriculture and Domestication References HENAN INSTITUTE OF CULTURAL RELISCS AND ARCHAEOLOGY. (ed.) 1999. Wuyang Jiahu. Beijing: Science Press. INSTITUTE OF ARCHAEOLOGY, CHINESE ACADEMY OF SOCIAL SCIENCES. 1984. 1979 nian Peiligang yizhi fajue baogao [Report of excavation at the Peiligang site in 1979]. Kaogu Xuebao 1: 23-52. INSTITUTE OF ARCHAEOLOGY, CHINESE ACADEMY OF SOCIAL SCIENCES. (ed.) 2010. Zhongguo Kaoguxue: Xinshiqi Juan [Chinese archaeology: Neolithic volume]. Beijing: Chinese Social Sciences Press. KAIFENG BUREAU OF CULTURAL RELICS MANAGEMENT. 1978. Henan Xinzheng Peiligang xinshiqi shidai yizhi [The Neolithic site at Peiligang in Xinzheng, Henan]. Kaogu 2: 73-79. LIU, L. & X. CHEN. 2012. The archaeology of China: from the late Paleolithic to the early Bronze Age. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. LIU, L., J. FIELD, R. FULLAGAR, S. BESTEL, X. MA & X. CHEN. 2010. What did grinding stones grind? New light on early Neolithic subsistence economy in the Middle Yellow River Valley, China. Antiquity 84: 816-833. Further Reading LEE, GYOUNG-AH, G. W. CRAWFORD, L. LIU & X. CHEN. 2007. Plants and people from the early Neolithic to Shang periods in North China. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America 104:1087-1092. Peking Man Peking Man Rhiannon Margaret Agutter Department of Archaeology, Flinders University, Adelaide, SA, Australia Introduction Peking Man (Homo erectus pekinensis) is an example of Homo erectus. The first evidence for Peking Man was discovered in 1921 by Austrian paleontologist Otto Zdansky who found a single hominin molar within a deposit at a quarry near the Chinese town of Zhoukoudian (then Chou K’ou Tien) approximately 30 miles (around 48 km) from Beijing (formerly Peking) (Reader 1988: 94). Further evidence of Peking Man came in 1927 when a third tooth (Zdansky had found another while sorting the excavated material (Reader 1988: 99)) was discovered by Swedish researcher Dr. Birger Böhlin. This tooth was turned over to Canadian anatomist Davidson Black for study (Conroy 1997: 303). Black considered the tooth to belong to a previously unknown species of hominin, the oldest discovered on the Asian mainland, which he named Sinanthropus pekinensis (Black 1927). The first Peking Man skull was discovered by Chinese paleontologist, archaeologist, and anthropologist Whenzong Pei on the 2nd of December 1929. This skull revealed that, despite slightly different dentition, Peking Man was not in fact a member of a new genus but rather an example of Homo erectus and very similar to Java Man (formerly Pithecanthropus erectus now Homo erectus erectus) (Reader 1988: 106). By 1937 fourteen skulls, eleven mandibles (lower jaws), and 147 teeth, along with seven femurs (upper leg bones), two humeri (upper arm bones), a possible clavicle (collarbone), and a single carpal (wrist) bone belonging to Homo erectus pekinensis, had been discovered at Zhoukoudian (Reader 1988: 107). Excavation was halted by the outbreak of the Second Sino-Japanese War and the subsequent Japanese invasion in 1937; however, the Peking Man fossils remained safely stored in 5859 P Zhoukoudian at the Cenozoic Research Laboratory until 1941 when, due to growing AmericanJapanese tensions during World War Two, the bones were packed for shipment to America. Sometime in late 1941 all the Peking Man fossils, except for the few teeth discovered by Zdansky, vanished and have not been seen since (Conroy 1997: 304). A number of drawings, photographs, and a full set of casts did make it to America, however, in the hands of the head of the Cenozoic Research Laboratory, Franz Weidenrich (Reader 1988: 108). Excavation at Zhoukoudian resumed in 1949 and has continued periodically since, uncovering a number of cranial and postcranial bones (Reader 1988: 109). The most recent excavations at Zhoukoudian, beginning in 2009, have revised previous dating of the site and of Peking Man (Shen et al. 2009). Definition Peking Man is the common name of a collection of fossilized specimens first discovered in Zhoukoudian, China, in 1921 and known scientifically as Homo erectus pekinensis (Reader 1988; Conroy 1997). In the 1970s Peking Man was dated to around 230–500 kyr (1,000 years) based on fission-track dating of Locality 1, layer 10 (the lowest level to contain hominin fossils) and 230Th/234Ur (thorium/uranium) dating of layers 1–3. These dates were supported by later electron spin resonance and 231Pa/235Ur (protactinium/uranium) and have been generally accepted as correct (Shen et al. 2009: 198). However, more recent work conducted at Zhoukoudian has offered an older date range of around 680–780 kyr based on 26Al/10Be (aluminum/beryllium) dating methods (Shen et al. 2009). Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples The Use of Fire A number of thick ash layers have been identified at Zhoukoudian, some being up to 6 m in depth (Conroy 1997: 316), which indicate extended P P 5860 periods of burning. This has commonly led to the conclusion that Peking Man had the ability to create and manage fire even from its earliest occupation and continued this practice for long stretches of time. While Peking Man’s use of fire is generally accepted within the scientific community, some have argued against this view. In 1985 Lewis Binford and Chuan Kun Ho argued that while there was certainly evidence of burning at Zhoukoudian, the ash layers were most likely not hearths as they were far too thick and spread out. Instead, Binford and Ho argued that the “ash” layers were probably the result of burning guano deposits (most likely owl droppings) which either spontaneously combusted or were ignited by an outside source (Binford & Ho 1985: 429), as evidenced by the large number of rodent bones and comparative lack of hominin remains associated with the deposit. While this theory has its supporters, many continue to believe in Peking Man’s use of fire at Zhoukoudian. The Use of Stone Tools Many thousands of individual stone artifacts made of sandstone, flint, and quartz (Conroy 1997: 310) have been discovered at Zhoukoudian, some in direct association with hominin remains, many not (Binford & Ho 1985: 429). Nevertheless, artifacts discovered as deep as layers 8–11 (Locality 1) indicate that Peking Man was utilizing stone tools from as early as 460–420 kyr (Conroy 1997: 313). Tool types discovered at Zhoukoudian include points, burins (chisel-like artifacts), scrapers, and choppers, many of which display evidence of retouching (Conroy 1997: 313) and at least three different techniques (anvil percussion, direct percussion, and bipolar percussion) for making the tools seem to have been employed. Over time Peking Man’s toolkit appears to have improved and evolved; tools recovered from the earliest occupation layers are generally larger and are made using all three techniques, while those from higher levels (dated to around 300–230 kyr) are smaller and more refined, and the bipolar percussion method is most common (Wu & Lin 1983). In general the stone artifacts discovered at Zhoukoudian provide greater evidence for Peking Man evolution adaptation and change in Peking Man over time than the fossilized hominin remains. Peking Man’s Diet While few of the stone tools found in association with Peking Man could be directly considered as weapons, there is a general assumption that Homo erectus pekinensis was both a hunter and a gatherer. Indeed the large amount of faunal remains – including wild pig, mouse, rat, frog, bat, hare, hedgehog, bear, horse, a huge amount of deer, and a number of other animals (Chia 1975: 42) – seem to suggest that some sort of predator was utilizing the caves at Zhoukoudian; whether this predator was human, however, is often debated. A large number of hyena bones have also been found at Zhoukoudian, and the guano deposits indicate that owls also made a home in the caves. Binford and Ho (1985: 425) have suggested that the composition of the faunal remains, including the parts and types of animals heavily represented (most notably the deer), and their location in dark parts of the caves, suggests that their accumulation at Zhoukoudian is more likely due to hyena activity than it is an indication of hominin hunting. However, some burned remains and some hominin modified antlers (Chia 1975: 31) discovered in the deposit do suggest that Peking Man was utilizing the local fauna, though whether this was through hunting or simply scavenging is unclear. Floral remains at Zhoukoudian are far less common. A number of hackberry seeds have been discovered at the site, but it is hard to determine if they are an indication of Peking Man’s diet or if they simply fell, through sinkholes, into the caves. Cannibalism There has been some suggestion, since the discovery of Peking Man, that cannibalism may have occurred at Zhoukoudian. This conclusion of cannibalism is based mainly on the longitudinal splitting of a few postcranial bones, the burning of a very small amount of hominin remains, the breakage pattern displayed in the mandibles (lower jaws), the lack of facial regions among the skulls, and some fractures, groves, and abrasions Penin, André on a number of the skulls (Binford & Ho 1985: 414). While the theory of cannibalism continues in some texts and the popular media, it has generally been discounted among the scientific community as the damage to the bones can be explained by either common taphonomic processes or the actions of other, nonhominin, predators. 5861 P Cross-References ▶ Black, Davidson ▶ Homo erectus ▶ Java Man ▶ Weidenreich, Franz ▶ Zhoukoudian, Archaeology of References Evolution of People in Asia? From discovery to the present day, a number of the debates regarding Peking Man have linked to the evolution and dispersal of humans throughout the world. While the majority of the international scientific community supports what is popularly known as the “out of Africa” hypothesis – the idea that modern humans (Homo sapiens) evolved from a small population in East Africa and only began to move throughout the world within the last 100,000 years, replacing previous populations of Homo erectus and other hominin genera as they spread – the official view in China is for a rather different method of human evolution. Chinese scientists generally advance a more “sinocentric” (Sautman 2001: 99) view on evolution, suggesting that the earliest hominids evolved within modern Chinese borders and that modern humans developed independently in Asia several hundred thousand years before they did elsewhere. This belief in multiregional evolution posits that modern humans evolved from various pre-Homo sapiens populations around the world (Howells 1983: 298), the Chinese from Peking Man, Australian aboriginals from Java Man, and Europeans from Neanderthals (Sautman 2001: 100) due to unique morphological features which persist throughout certain region’s populations. Some Chinese scholars still support the idea posited by Franz Weidenrich in the 1930s that Peking Man was a direct ancestor to modern Chinese people and that Homo erectus pekinensis proves that Chinese people have existed since the very earliest stages of humanity (Sautman 2001: 97). At present fossil, genetic and linguistic evidence supports the “out of Africa” hypothesis much more firmly than the “sinocentric” viewpoints (Sautman 2001: 98). BINFORD, L.R. & C.K. HO. 1985. Taphonomy at a distance: Zhoukoudian, "The cave home of Beijing Man"? Current Anthropology 26(4): 413-442. BLACK, D. 1927. On a lower molar hominid tooth from the Chou Kou Tien deposit. Peking: Geological Survey of China. CHIA, L.P. 1975. The cave home of Peking Man. Peking: Foreign Languages Press. CONROY, G.C. 1997. Reconstructing human origins: a modern synthesis. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, Inc. HOWELLS, W.W. 1983. The origins of the Chinese people: interpretations of the recent evidence, in D.N. Keightley (ed.) The origins of Chinese civilisation. 297-321. Berkeley: University of California Press. READER, J. 1988. Missing links: the hunt for earliest man. London: Pelican Books. SHEN, G., X. GAO, B. GAO & D.E. GRANGER. 2009. Age of Zhoukoudian Homo erectus determined with 26 Al/10Be burial dating. Nature 358: 198-200. SAUTMAN, B. 2001. Peking Man and the politics of palaeoanthropological nationalism in China. The Journal of Asian Studies 60(1): 95-124. WU, R. & S. LIN. 1983. Peking Man. Scientific American 248: 86-94. Further Reading DAY, M.H. 1986. Guide to fossil man. London: Cassell. THE PEKING MAN WORLD HERITAGE SITE AT ZHOUKOUDIAN. n.d. Available at: http://www.unesco.org/ext/field/ beijing/whc/pkm-site.htm. Penin, André Fabiana Rodrigues Belem Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, University of São Paulo, São Paulo, Brazil Basic Biographical Information André Penin Santos de Lima (1976–2012) (Figs. 1 and 2) was a Brazilian archaeologist, P P 5862 Penin, André Penin, André, Fig. 1 André Penin at Santa Catarina, Santa Marta’s sambaquis, 2008 Penin, André, Fig. 2 André Penin, in his office at the University of Rondonia, 2009 born in São Paulo in 1976. He graduated from law school at the Pontifical Catholic University of São Paulo in 1998, but it was at the University of São Paulo that he pursued his career in archaeology. He graduated in history (2000) before achieving a Master’s degree (2005) and Ph.D. (2010) in archaeology at the Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology. In 2009 André Penin became a professor of archaeology with the Archaeology Department at the Federal University of Rondônia, near the Brazilian frontier with Bolivia. He was also affiliated as a professor at the State University of Amazonas and a member of the editorial board of the Veredas Amazônicas Journal. Professor Penin’s main areas of interest were heritage, archaeology, and cultural resources management. He was an active and engaged member of the forums regarding those subjects, as well as on the national meetings of the archaeological community, where he was always posing questions and presenting works regarding the political background of the Brazilian archaeological scenario. He was engaged in the three domains in which archaeology takes place in Brazil: the academy, cultural resources management and “the other side of the desk” – as he used to say – as he spent time as a technician at the Institute for National Artistic and Historical Heritage (IPHAN), in the states of the São Paulo and Santa Catarina. André Penin died tragically at the beginning of 2012. Major Accomplishments At the beginning of his career as an archaeologist, Penin focused on the lithic industry and shell People as Agents of Environmental Change mounds of the southern and southeastern Brazilian coast. It was these subjects that he pursued his thesis, titled Analysis of the Formative Processes of Capelinha Archaeological Site – Setting up a Microregional Context. In 2005, André Penin started to work at IPHAN, first at São Paulo and later at Santa Catarina. It was within this scenario that he was able to draw on his background as a lawyer and engage in the politics of Brazilian archaeology. This experience was later translated into his dissertation in 2010, Academic, Contract and Heritage. Different Views of the Same Discipline: Archaeology (Penin 2010), in which he analyzed the practical consequences that the law has on archaeological practice in addition to conducting a legal analysis of the legislation concerning archaeology. In 2009 he finally became a professor fulfilling his desire to teach – an activity that he carried out with the same commitment and engagement that he displayed in the other domains of Brazilian archaeological practice. His early and tragic death greatly affected the archaeological community in Brazil. Though he was young, he left a legacy in terms of his professional conduct and commitment to ethics in Brazilian archaeology and through his passion for teaching and research, which has inspired others to follow in his footsteps. Cross-References ▶ Cultural Heritage Management Quality Control and Assurance ▶ Cultural Heritage Protection: The Legal Sphere ▶ Ethics of Commercial Archaeology: Brazil ▶ South America: Lithic Industries References PENIN, A. 2010. Academic, contract and heritage. Different views of the same discipline: archaeology. Unpublished PhD dissertation, University of São Paulo, Brazil. 5863 P Further Reading PENIN, A., C.A. ZIMPEL & V.F. SILVA. 2011. O curso de Bacharelado em Arqueologia na Fundação Universidade Federal de Rondônia (UNIR), archaeology graduation at UNIR (Federal University of Rondônia). Arqueologia em Debate - Jornal da SAB 3: 23-6. People as Agents of Environmental Change John H. Walker University of Central Florida, Orlando, FL, USA Introduction When archaeologists consider people as agents of environmental change, they open a group of related discussions, some of which have been going on as long as archaeology has been recognized as a discipline. These same issues are becoming more important to wider audiences, and archaeologists now have opportunities to contribute to conversations in other disciplines, as well as to decisions made in the public sphere. As archaeologists study relationships between people and the environment in their efforts to study the past, categories such as “nature” and “culture” can be seen as terms used to achieve political and economic goals. Those who have a stake in whether and how people change the environment will always be interested in the answers to these questions. Historical Background People value environmental knowledge because they construct their economic lives out of it. Before considering whether people changed the environment, it seems clear that people can change themselves, into a spectacular variety of different ways of interacting with the environment, at every scale. Fishers, farmers, nomads, urbanites, traders, and crafters are a few of the distinctive ways to make a living from the P P 5864 environment. This diversity of human activity is impossible to separate from its corresponding range of relationships that people have with the environment. Study of the environment in archaeology is integral to the discipline. Archaeology was born in the realization that geological strata were correlated with different categories of artifacts. The three-age classification (Stone, Bronze and Iron Ages) was closely related to the development of stratigraphy as a tool in geology. Archaeologists and paleoecologists used pollen to reconstruct past vegetation, analyzed glaciers to understand the geological past, and then used those reconstructed environments as context for the evidence of prehistoric life. Reconstruction of the environment has always been a part of archaeology. In broad strokes, this historical context is an ecology or an interaction between three distinct kinds of ideas. These three categories make a tidy set, but just as with any classification, the phenomena in question (the practices of different researchers) in fact combine features of all three. The first is the founding ideas of the biological and historical sciences, dating to the nineteenth century. After Darwin and Wallace put forward the idea of natural selection, nature was thought of as a variable, rather than a constant. Without this insight, archaeology (and coincidentally, anthropology) would not be recognizable. Because people were seen as part of the universe described by natural selection, the question of how human societies came to be was reopened. This question would be answered against the backdrop of environmental processes that had operated throughout the history of the earth, and even the solar system. In this view of environment, and its relationship with humans, the tools of biological science, chemistry, physics, and geology are used to better understand the current environment and its history through the operation of these universal processes. This powerful mode of thought lies behind the development of all the historical sciences, and accounts for much of the relevant research today. Individuals are hard to distinguish in the archaeological record, and archaeologists interested in environment generally focus on People as Agents of Environmental Change communities or societies. Ideas about the most useful way of thinking about communities of people vary widely. American archaeology (via its disciplinary roots in anthropology) often views groups of people as having culture, a set of ideas that has influences or perhaps determines how they interact with the environment. Archaeology in Europe (and the UK) is perhaps more oriented toward the idea of society; it is less concerned with ideas that people might share, and more with how groups of people are organized and how they function. The second idea that contributes to archaeological understanding of the environment dates to roughly the middle of the twentieth century, in conjunction with many significant advances in biology, cybernetics, and ecology. Translated into anthropology (or at least American anthropology), this resulted in a surge of interest in cultural evolution, ecology, and human ecology. The environment is conceived as constantly changing, but perhaps predictable as it follows feedback loops to maintain key variables (population, for example) within sustainable bounds. For example, populations of deer and wolves might vary, but because they are mutually dependent, they oscillate around a stable mean value. This idea is perhaps equally influential as the first, and certainly has resulted in useful research on how human communities relate to the environment in complex ways, whether through rituals associated with sweet potato gardening and raising pigs, or relationships between population and resource among nomadic peoples, or intensive farmers. Ecological points of view often emphasize balance between people and the environment, but people often fail to maintain such relationships. The third type of idea acknowledges that nature is changing, but because of the efforts of field ecologists (Botkin 1990), it seems that selfregulating, equilibrium relationships do not often manifest themselves outside the laboratory. Instead, ecologists and interested social scientists have converged on a combination of ecology with history, often termed historical ecology. Ecological relationships are still central, as the inputs and outputs of any part of a system impact all the People as Agents of Environmental Change other parts, but the historical contingency of these relationships becomes the center of attention (Crumley 1994). In this point of view, nature or environment is seen in intimate connection with people, but large patterns are difficult to discern. The way to build such understandings is taken from history, and archaeologists and biologists alike study the local contexts and interactions between people and the environment to build larger theories. The interplay between these three categories leads to the examination of issues of agency and scale. The idea of agency raises the question of whether intentionality is important to anthropogenic environmental change. For these purposes, anthropogenic change need not be intentional in order to qualify as environmental change. Agency refers to how humans cause change, whether or not they know what they are doing. For example, examining changes in soils over time through the addition of organic inputs like charcoal, it may not be clear whether the changes were intentional or not. Intentionality can also be difficult to define in the archaeological record, when juxtaposed with the different groups of people that might be associated with aspects of the archaeological record. Archaeologists are often more comfortable with what happened in the past than with what people in the past thought was happening. The question of scale is crucial to describing change and its significance. Archaeologists are concerned with longer periods of time, so that often a change that takes less than a generation is instantaneous. On the other hand, archaeological evidence can establish the presence and importance of long-term trends, over generations, centuries, and millennia. One key question that runs through the history of archaeology, historical sciences, and history is how different scales relate to one another, especially whether causes can be found more at one scale than at the others. Key Issues We can define environment as the geological, climatological, biological setting within which 5865 P people act. The question could then be whether people are capable of moving the scenery around on the stage on which they find themselves. Making this strong distinction between people and the environment as actors and scenery allows an argument to go forward, but the dichotomy itself is part of the theoretical discussion. Different people think of the relationship between people and the environment in very different ways. Because archaeologists and other scholars are also people, they are trapped within this frame of reference. Anthropologists have described many individuals and groups of people who do not draw the line between people and animals in the same place as many westerners. Case studies of how people have changed the environment have made it clear that the distinction between nature and culture is not easy to maintain. What follows is a set of examples in rough chronological order, from human ancestors to the archaeology of the current global political economy. People use fire to clear grasslands, cook food, warm houses, and hunt animals. Thought of as a technology, the control of fire changes human ecologies tremendously in and of itself, and also as the prerequisite for other technologies: pottery and metallurgy, for example. Although the earliest use of fire has been a controversial topic, recent research suggests that the use of fire predates the human species, as usually defined. If fire was in use by human ancestors and then humans for one million years or more (or perhaps 40,000 generations), then the environment and human communities have been in complex relationships for long enough time to affect both human and landscape evolution. Acting directly on plants and animals, fire is used to favor savanna and fire-tolerant or dependent plants over other forests, to hunt animals on a larger scale, and to open up new sources of food through cooking (Fig. 1; Pyne 2001). Indirectly, the use of fire for other purposes, from cooking to making pots to keeping warm, results in demands for fuel that have further effects, and create processes that generate their own momentum (Bateson 1972). No other process or tool is easier to use and still produces such a dramatic range of profound changes in the environment. P P 5866 People as Agents of Environmental Change People as Agents of Environmental Change, Fig. 1 Large preColumbian raised fields near Santa Ana del Yacuma in the Bolivian Amazon. The differences in color are caused by the effects of burning the savanna. Individual fields average about 20 m by 200 m A broad category of interactions includes those by which humans domesticate plants, animals, and landscapes. Domestication is a process that changes both humans and other species biologically, geographically, socially, and culturally. Over the course of several thousand years, corn (Zea mays) went from an unassuming tropical grass to a hybridized monster that cannot survive outside a complex, industrialized agriculture integrating genetic engineering, chemical fertilizers, herbicides, world markets, and landgrant universities (Piperno & Pearsall 1998). The changes in the human consumers of corn are equally startling. Among animals, the changes in domesticated animals can be seen through faunal analysis, as these species are also integrated into specialized ecologies. But even among animals that are not changed genetically by farmers, the movements and migrations of species that are hunted by humans, used as pets, or who follow human settlement have tremendous effects around the world. This effect is particularly visible on islands, but was by no means limited to them (Kirch & Hunt 1997). Humans also move earth and manipulate fire and water to favor some ecological communities over others. Realizing that fish are trapped in an oxbow lake, or that animals are limited to high ground during a flood season, allows people to predict and take advantage of regularities in the environment, without expending the effort to domesticate plants and animals at the genetic level. In many cases, these manipulations of the environment, at many different levels, led groups of people to create and maintain ecologies that are usefully thought of as common pool resources (Ostrom 1990). Forests, often greatly modified and managed by people, are the result of practices like pollarding, coppicing, selecting for particular trees, harvesting firewood, fruits, and managing populations of animals. Some landscapes have documented histories of hundreds or even thousands of years (Rackham 1989). The scale of this management, especially in the tropics, is potentially very large (Balée 1998). Another group of managed resources are fisheries, both fresh and salt water. One of the first topics of research for the anthropologists, historians, and social scientists who study the management of common pool resources: Fisheries are amenable to archaeological research through the analysis of paleodiet combined with settlement archaeology to study changes in population over time. The often-arid landscapes of the Near East have been the stage for human history for many tens of thousands, and perhaps hundreds of thousands of years (Wilkinson 2003). The Near East is a palimpsest of landscape features that were built and used over thousands of years. Irrigation channels, threshing floors, roads, caves, tells, People as Agents of Environmental Change trails, and paths, all “written” on top of each other and then rewritten. Many of these landscape features also contain historical and cultural significance for their creators and descendants. These links and these relationships are very important today, and presumably also in the past. If a group of people can change the landscape by piling rocks into a monument, that act can have consequences over the long term that are belied by the simplicity of its immediate consequences. Again, the link between what people think about the environment, and how they relate to one another within the environment, is of first importance. Historical examples like irrigation systems in eastern Spain provide evidence about how human institutions and landscapes are related, over many generations. Archaeologists have uncovered widespread evidence of how preColumbian peoples built terraces, raised fields or chinampas, causeways, canals, geoglyphs, zoomorphic figures, mounds, paths, roads, dams, artificial channels, a huge range of direct modifications of the landscape that in turn shape the flows of fire, water, plants and animals, and permanently change the geography of the places where people live (Doolittle 2000; Lentz 2000; Denevan 2001; Whitmore & Turner 2001; Balée & Erickson 2006). The terraced landscapes of Southeast Asia and South America demonstrate how people invested their labor over centuries to make the landscape more productive, and increase the return on their time. Archaeologists have the resources and expertise to determine, not if a resource or a way of life is sustainable, but whether it was in fact sustained. Many archaeologists have studied the interactions between people and the environment, not as examples of how people have built complex landscapes, or domesticated huge catalogs of plants and animals, but as explanations for drastic changes that are seen in the archaeological record (Redman 1999). The decisions that humans made about the environment, whether the consequences were foreseen or not, have been used to explain changes, usually in complex societies or “civilizations” around the earth. The collapse of the Maya, or the Tiwanaku, or Indus Valley civilization, to take three examples, is taken to be the 5867 P result of overpopulation, overexploitation of resources, or of limited flexibility in the face of environmental changes such as drought. Many technological processes require large inputs of resources. Using wood and charcoal for fuel may have led to the local extinction of algarrobo trees on the Peruvian coast. Using wood or charcoal to fire adobe into bricks may have been an important limitation on the construction of Harappan cities in the Indus Valley. And the use of resources on Easter Island is an important issue in debates between Diamond and his critics regarding the fate of the people who lived there before the arrival of Europeans. Examining these ideas brings together natural and social scientists in productive ways, because although geologists or climate scientists might have insight into longterm changes in precipitation, archaeologists or historians might have insight into how societies interact with seasonal and long-term changes. Are the fates of human societies governed by unchangeable environmental (geographic, biological, climatological) parameters, or is it possible for humans to change the environment, or change the rules? It is possible for humans to farm even on another planet, if they invested enough resources in the effort. Likewise, a swampy environment could be unlivable to one group of people, while at the same time being an ideal place for another group. Such differences might be in part preferences, as when someone would rather have warm weather year-round than cope with ice and snow, but such choices are also always interwoven with economic and political choices. James Scott argues that some societies “took to the hills” and moved to remote mountain environments to avoid the predation of lowland kingdoms (Scott 2011). These cultural ideas are as important as environmental limitations. A very powerful way of thinking about the creation of systems within groups of people that relate to the environment is the idea of “second nature” (Cronon 1991). When ideas about nature acquire importance and value separate from the aspects of the nonhuman world, they purport to describe or organize, a second nature is established. When corn, timber, or cotton becomes P P 5868 a commodity instead of a crop, the difference between the plants grown by two different farmers in two different places is flattened out. Trade and interaction between people over grain futures becomes more important than interaction between people over grain, or even between people and plants themselves. Farmers make decisions not based on any local factors that concern plants, animals, labor, or inputs, but based on a market in corn futures that they might never see, but whose effects they feel through subsidies or fluctuating prices. Cronon’s insight raises the question of whether there might be other kinds of “second nature” that are not tied to the historical and geographic context of nineteenth century Chicago. Such disconnections between decision makers and the environment certainly occurred elsewhere. In addition to looking for the evidence of environmental change in lake cores or glacier cores, archaeologists might also look ideas about how “natural” things are brought into more and more abstract contexts. The long-term history of commodities and political economy brings archaeology into contact with history, economics, and sociology, among other fields (Hornborg & Crumley 2007). Historical archaeology, which some have defined as the archaeology of the world through the development of industrial capitalism, has a great deal to offer to the study of environmental change. Industrial processes can be studied using historical documents, but archaeological evidence multiplies the value of historical sources. In the Amazon, for example, a historical archaeology of the many efforts to colonize, develop, and modernize the Amazon would include the story of Jesuit missions, connected to a global effort to establish an explicitly Christian utopia, the story of rubber exploitation, with a network of ports and company establishments, ranging from the empires of rubber barons in Peru and Bolivia, to Fordlandia, the company town established to oversee industrial cultivation of latex, and the construction of the Madeira-Mamoré railroad, intended to circumvent the non-navigable rapids and bring Bolivian rubber to the international market. Archaeology of the past 500 years around the world will be indispensable to understanding People as Agents of Environmental Change how industrialization changed the environment, both in the industrializing core, and the distant peripheries of the world economic system. Finally, the intentionality of pre-Columbian peoples is directly tied to one of many ideas that have been projected from the western imagination onto indigenous peoples. That Native Americans should be Noble Savages, counterexamples to the squalor and desperate violence of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries in Europe, was perhaps an inevitable story. That the idea of native Americans as counterexample to the environmental destruction of multinational corporations and modern nation states is a new variation on an old idea. This idea allows intentionality to modern people, but denies it to pre-Columbian (and contemporary) indigenous communities. It also can be used against indigenous groups when they fail to live up to an imagined standard of behavior, instead choosing to follow their own self-interest. International Perspectives Archaeologists of South America, from around the world, and from South America itself, have a unique take on people and the environment. This stems from the unique relationships that pre-Columbian South Americans had with the environment, and with a recent history of interaction between ideas from different schools of thought from a variety of traditions. South American archaeologists have long been interested in the connections between pre-Columbian people and their shaping of the landscape from the terraces that gave the Andes Mountains their name, to raised fields that seem to correlate with widespread intensive agriculture across the continent, to concepts about nature and the place of people in it, deriving from the increasingly detailed ethnographic literature. Environment is a habitat where people interact with other nonhuman factors and create a wide spectrum of adaptations to those factors. This is a line of thinking that is as old as South American archaeology, and the application of a host of new techniques is making it more and more People as Agents of Environmental Change productive. For example, the application of faunal, botanical, and environmental analyses of early sites has shown that before 12,000 years ago, and perhaps much earlier, groups of people in South America were pursuing a wide variety of ways of life. This has upended previous interpretations of the importance of Clovis peoples in the peopling of the New World, not only through the earlier dates, but more importantly through the documentation of ways of life that are manifestly unrelated to Clovis big-game hunters. The refinement of techniques to better recover and analyze faunal and botanical remains has made these developments possible. Advances of equal importance are being made across the continent, showing that the deep histories of the areas outside the focal Andean region are equal partners in any account of continental archaeology. Many archaeologists are also aware of the debates in cultural anthropology about the relationships between indigenous South Americans (especially Amazonians) and the natural world. Many of these relationships may have parallels in other parts of the world, and they certainly have profound consequences for how archaeologists interpret their evidence to stand for preColumbian ways of life. For the Huaorani in eastern Ecuador, trees are at the same time ancestors, links to historical knowledge, and part of the living environment where people spend their lives (Rival 2002). If individual trees, kinds of trees, and groves of trees can all have these meanings for Huaorani, then archaeologists have to consider that botanical remains of trees represent more than resources that people consumed. Cormier shows how people and monkeys are categories that blend together, as women nurse baby monkeys, and monkeys are accorded many of the statuses of humans (Cormier 2003). This is a pattern of interaction with animals that holds for many other species, although the social relationships differ. A strong thread in Amazonian cultural anthropology leads through the ideas that relationships between humans and the nonhuman world are social relations, rather than inert instrumental relations. In short, indigenous South Americans draw the line between humans 5869 P and nonhumans in a different place, if indeed they draw that line at all. And finally, archaeologists are reckoning with the understanding that the earth itself is a living thing. This is true at the level of soil science, where recent studies have focused on the question of how Amazonians manipulated soil properties to create new kinds of soil that have long-lasting properties, thereby changing the plant and animal communities based on those soils (Glaser & Woods 2004). These studies go to the heart of the question of agency – whether pre-Columbian communities created ADE soils intentionally or as the by-product of occupation. Such soils, known since the nineteenth century, are now being studied as a possible development alternative, and as a key to the puzzle of pre-Columbian economies, both along the main rivers, and in areas far removed from them. The agency attributed to South American mountains and constructed mounds is a remarkable example of complex relations between humans and the environment (Dillehay 2007). Social relationships between people and mountains, or between people and constructed monuments (which are also archaeological sites), are key to living in the right way. South American archaeologists and anthropologist come to the idea of people as agents of environmental change by choice, but also by necessity. From what we now know of the longterm history of people on the South American continent, it would be difficult to understand from any one theoretical perspective, much less one which does not account for the social relationships between people and trees, animals, and the earth. There is little agreement on a larger framework for fitting these ideas of the environment into a larger story about the South American past, but the analysis of people as agents of environmental change is now well established in the field. Future Directions Changes in the technology of archaeological research are a trend that will influence future P P 5870 studies. Archaeologists work hard for their data in the field, and while this will always be true, new techniques in remote sensing, recovery techniques, and management of data will plunge archaeologists into increasingly deep seas of data. Although shovels remain the same, archaeologists in 2012 derive chronological information from a wide range of recovered materials: scrape botanical information from artifact surfaces, and model hydrological or ecological processes in great detail over very large areas. At the same time, the integration of local stakeholders in archaeological decision making will certainly have an equal impact. For many, the distinction between archaeology and ecology might not be all that important, as long as they bring in tourists or scientific and development grants. For others, archaeology has the potential to focus international attention (and funding) on issues of cultural identity that have always been important, but now are positioned to gain influence. Finally, the environmental change that is underway in the twenty-first century will certainly influence the practice and interpretation of research. For example, some cultural resources will be destroyed by sea levels, but perhaps others will become available as different parts of the globe become more accessible. Some assumptions about the inevitable course of environmental change (such as deforestation) require greater scrutiny (Fairhead & Leach 1996). More significantly, the course of environmental change in the twenty-first century will likely influence strongly the goals and prejudices of archaeologists and stakeholders. Research may come to focus on case studies of environmental disaster in the past, and on examples of sustained societies as well. Although this trajectory cannot be separated from the arena of conflicting ideas in the present, the study of changing societies and environments in deep history is a question that combines archaeology, ecology, environmental reconstruction, history, geology, botany, geography, and other fields to inform decision makers at all scales, from descendant communities to state bureaucracies, to multinational companies. People as Agents of Environmental Change Today, many are convinced that people change the environment, from a local to a global scale. However, environmental change in the twenty-first century is a divisive political and economic issue. Establishing connections between how people relate to the environment today, and how they did so in the past, can be a powerful rhetorical strategy. To see societies in the past as examples of sustainable ways of life, or as cautionary tales of mismanagement and ignorance, is a powerful argument when buttressed by archaeological data. Likewise the past 100 years have been described as “Something new under the sun,” another strong position in current debates over environmental issues (McNeill 2001). Archaeology is more than political rhetoric, however, and research and analysis suggest that in fact, people have been agents of environmental change for many millennia, over most of the surface of the earth, and into oceans, rivers, and the atmosphere. If people were agents of environmental change for centuries or millennia, this adds a crucial dimension to our understanding of societies in the past. Arguments over how and why civilizations “rose” and “fell” are often made using reconstructions of past environments, and the further study of these relationships is critical. But it also puts today’s debates about environment and society into an important perspective. The world today, whether thought of as social, natural, or something else, is affected by processes that have operated for many generations. The accumulated changes of generations of artificial selection have changed corn from a tropical grass to a commodity. In a similar way, the accumulated labor of generations of farmers has produced irrigation ditches, terraces, raised fields, and other agricultural infrastructure, which is crucial to modern agricultural successes. The study of people as agents of environmental change must change several fields, by demonstrating that ancient environments, ancient societies, and the relationship between society and the environment today are all conditioned by these important historical contexts, whether or not the analysis of these case studies yields any kind of universal history or model. People as Agents of Environmental Change Cross-References ▶ Agency in Archaeological Theory ▶ Agrarian Landscapes: Environmental Archaeological Studies ▶ Agrarian Landscapes of the Historic Period ▶ Agriculture: Definition and Overview ▶ Amazonian Dark Earths: Geoarchaeology ▶ Anthropogenic Environments, Archaeology of ▶ Anthropogenic Sediments and Soils: Geoarchaeology ▶ Capitalism: Historical Archaeology ▶ Historical Ecology and Environmental Archaeology ▶ Historical Ecology in Archaeology ▶ Landscape Archaeology ▶ Landscape Domestication and Archaeology ▶ Maize: Origins and Development References BALÉE, W. (ed.) 1998. Advances in historical ecology. New York: Columbia University Press. BALÉE, W. & C.L. ERICKSON. (ed.) 2006. Time, complexity and historical ecology. New York: Columbia University Press. BATESON, G. 1972. Steps to an ecology of mind. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. BOTKIN, D.B. 1990. Discordant harmonies: a new ecology for the twenty-first century. New York: Oxford University Press. CORMIER, L. 2003. Kinship with monkeys: the Guaja foragers of eastern Amazonia. New York: Columbia University Press. CRONON, W. 1991. Nature’s metropolis: Chicago and the great West. New York: W. W. Norton. CRUMLEY, C.L. (ed.) 1994. Historical ecology: cultural knowledge and changing landscapes. Santa Fe (NM): School of American Research Press. DENEVAN, W.M. 2001. Cultivated landscapes of Native Amazonia and the Andes. Oxford: Oxford University Press. DILLEHAY, T.D. 2007. Monuments, empires and resistance: the Araucanian polity and ritual narratives. New York: Cambridge University Press. DOOLITTLE, W.E. 2000. Cultivated landscapes of Native North America. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 5871 P FAIRHEAD, J. & M. LEACH. 1996. Misreading the African landscape: society and ecology in a forest-savanna mosaic. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. GLASER, G. & W.I. WOODS. 2004. Amazonian Dark Earths: explorations in space and time. Berlin: Springer. HORNBORG, A. & C.L. CRUMLEY. 2007. The world system and the earth system: global socioenvironmental change and sustainability since the Neolithic. Walnut Creek (CA): Left Coast Press. KIRCH, P.V., & T.L. HUNT. 1997. Historical ecology in the Pacific Islands: prehistoric environmental and landscape change. New Haven (CT): Yale University Press. LENTZ, D.L. (ed.) 2000. Imperfect balance: landscape transformations in the Precolumbian Americas. New York: Columbia University Press. MCNEILL, J.R. 2001. Something new under the sun: an environmental history of the twentieth century world. New York: W. W. Norton. OSTROM, E. 1990. Governing the commons: the evolution of institutions for collective action. New York: Cambridge University Press. PIPERNO, D.R. & D.M. PEARSALL. 1998. The origins of agriculture in the lowland Neotropics. San Diego: Academic Press. PYNE, S.J. 2001. Fire: a brief history. Seattle: University of Washington Press. RACKHAM, O. 1989. The last forest: the story of Hatfield Forest. London: J. M. Dent & Sons, Ltd. REDMAN, C. 1999. Human impact on ancient environments. Tucson (AZ): University of Arizona Press. RIVAL, L. 2002. Trekking through history: the Huaorani of Amazonian Ecuador. New York: Columbia University Press. SCOTT, J.C. 2011. The art of not being governed: an anarchist history of upland Southeast Asia. New Haven (CT): Yale University Press. WHITMORE, T.M. & B.L. TURNER II. 2001. Cultivated landscapes of Middle America on the eve of conquest. Oxford: Oxford University Press. WILKINSON, T.J. 2003. Archaeological landscapes of the Near East. Tucson (AZ): University of Arizona Press. Further Reading DIAMOND, J. 2004. Collapse: how societies choose to fail or succeed. New York: Viking. FLENLEY, J. & P. BAHN. (ed.) 2003. The enigmas of Easter Island. Oxford: Oxford University Press. INGOLD, T. 2000. The perception of the environment: essays in livelihood, dwelling and skill. New York: Routledge. MANN, C.C. 2005. 1491: new revelations of the Americas before Columbus. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. - 2011. 1493: Uncovering the New World Columbus created. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. MCANANY, P.A. & N. YOFFEE. (ed.) 2009. Questioning collapse: human resilience, ecological vulnerability, and the aftermath of empire. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. P P 5872 POLITIS, G. 2007. Nukak: ethnoarcheology of an Amazonian people. Walnut Creek (CA): Left Coast Press. WOODS, W.I. 2008. Amazonian Dark Earths: Wim Sombroek’s vision. New York: Springer. Peopling of the Americas J. M. Adovasio and David R. Pedler Department of Anthropology, Mercyhurst University, Erie, PA, USA Peopling of the Americas Americas, hinging as it does on quite variable data from far-flung sites that are often relatively small, poorly preserved, and ephemeral occupations compared to later (and sometimes overlapping) cultural manifestations. This entry is not offered with the presumption of resolving these and attendant issues but, rather, summarizes the history of scholarship concerning the peopling of the Americas and our current knowledge of this watershed event in human history. Historical Background Introduction Examination of the timing, methods of movement, routes, and origins of human migration into the hitherto unpopulated western hemisphere has engaged archaeological inquiry for over 150 years. The last of the Pleistocene migrations by fully modern humans, and arguably the last of the great earthbound human migrations, this journey covered thousands of kilometers over the course of several 1,000 years, well after the movement of modern humans out of Africa (c. 50,000 BP) and Central and Eastern Asia (c. 45,000–40,000 BP). Upon their arrival, these first migrants then appear to have quickly spread throughout the entire (and then completely unknown) hemisphere within a matter of just a few 1,000 years, adapting to a complex and variable array of local climates, landscapes, and biota while also exhibiting concomitantly diverse technologies and lifeways on the landscape in very widely distributed locations. Scholarly answers to the questions surrounding this migration have achieved varying levels of resolution and consensus, but some aspects – most notably the timing of the event(s) – have admittedly remained intractable and unresolved. It is generally agreed, for example, that the earliest inhabitants of the Americas were at first Siberians. Resolution and consensus begin to break down, however, once one starts speaking about the timing (pre- vs. post-Last Glacial Maximum [LGM]) and routes of the migration (coastal versus interior, or both?). Moreover, considerable lacunae continue to exist in our understanding of late Pleistocene lifeways in the The confirmation of a deep human antiquity in Europe by a delegation of British geologists and antiquarians visiting the excavations of Jacques Boucher de Crèvecœur de Perthes on the Somme in northern France in 1859 soon filtered across the Atlantic. This, in turn, stimulated American academicians to naively seek phenomena of comparable antiquity in the Americas. The ensuing “American Paleolithic” debate would foreshadow later and still ongoing disputes about the timing of the arrival of the hemisphere’s first colonists. The question of an American Paleolithic would temporarily be resolved by the turn of the twentieth century, when – thanks largely to the insistence on rigorous standards of evidence by Aleš Hrdlička, William Henry Holmes, and others – all claims for an Ice Age human presence in the Americas had been dashed. Prior to the 1920s, the received wisdom was that no humans had entered this hemisphere before the final retreat of the glacial ice and the subsequent inundation of the Bering Platform. This almost universally accepted position would ultimately be dismantled by another delegation of experts which, in 1927, confirmed Jesse Dade Figgins’ claimed association of an extinct species of bison (Bison antiquus) with artifacts of indisputable human manufacture in an unambiguous stratified context. The artifact suite notably included delicately made projectile points with bilateral channel flakes or flutes, which were named Folsom after the locus of the discovery. This seminal research not only established that humans were in the Americas sometime before Peopling of the Americas the end of the last Ice Age but also that they were living among and preying upon extinct Pleistocene fauna. Four years later, two other discoveries, one near Dent, Colorado, and the other at Blackwater Draw, south of Clovis, New Mexico, revealed more evidence of the apparent hunting of extinct Pleistocene megafauna, in these cases, mammoth (Mammuthus columbi). Associated with these remains was a robust form of bi-channel flaked point which subsequent excavations demonstrated was stratigraphically deeper and thus older than the bison-associated Folsom point. Named Clovis after the nearby New Mexico community, these points were subsequently reported from much of unglaciated North America as well as portions of Central and South America. Within a few decades, these points and a suite of loosely associated artifacts came to be regarded as the signature artifacts of the hemisphere’s initial colonists and considered emblematic of a highly specialized, big-game-focused lifeway pursued by rapidly moving spear-wielding hunters. With the advent and application of radiocarbon dating in the late 1940s and early 1950s, the Clovis “horizon” was initially fixed at c. 13,500–13,000 years ago. By the late 1960s, a peopling scenario that held Clovis as the hemisphere’s initial colonizing pulse was widely accepted by a great majority of North American scholars and the lay public. Called “Clovis First” in more recent times, its proponents believed that sometime shortly before 13,500 years ago, a small group of Paleo-Indians crossed the Bering Platform dry-shod, passed through the unglaciated Bering Refugium, and then rapidly moved south through the narrow corridor between the waxing and waning Cordilleran and Laurentide ice sheets. Following their transit through the ice-free corridor, these putative first inhabitants of the Americas were then presumed to have spread throughout the entire hemisphere in the span of only about 500 years. Either shortly before or perhaps during this dispersal, they were also presumed to have invented the fluting of projectile points and used these allegedly lethal weapons to more or less synchronously dispatch some 35 species of late Pleistocene fauna. This 5873 P “blitzkrieg” dispersal, as it came to be known, was championed by late Paul Martin (1967). An important additional corollary to this scenario was the explicit stipulation that Clovis technology was ancestral to all other tool kits in the entire hemisphere. Although not without its critics, the Clovis First model became further entrenched by the repeated failure to identify bona fide sites predating Clovis and the apparent support provided by the limited physical anthropological and linguistic data available at that time. Despite its inherent weaknesses, especially the existence of roughly contemporaneous lithic industries that are clearly distinct from Clovis, the Clovis First paradigm did not begin to unravel until the early 1970s with the discovery of several sites that seriously challenged the Clovis First model. The most frequently cited localities that have precipitated a general acceptance of the existence of pre-Clovis populations in the Americas are Monte Verde in Chile (Dillehay 1989, 1997) and Meadowcroft Rockshelter in southwestern Pennsylvania (Adovasio et al. 1977, 1985, 1990). These two localities yielded durable and perishable artifacts of indisputable anthropogenic origin in well-defined stratigraphic contexts that were tightly bracketed by multiple internally consistent radiocarbon determinations. Despite continued criticism from some scholars, these two sites nonetheless definitively established a human presence in the Americas at least 1,000–2,500 radiocarbon years before the Clovis First model’s presumed crossing of the Bering Strait. Although Meadowcroft was discovered and initially published upon before Monte Verde, this latter site is widely considered to be the first site to have seriously challenged the Clovis First peopling scenario. Located on a tributary stream c. 15 km northeast of the Gulf of Ancud on the west coast of Chile, Monte Verde is the southernmost pre-Clovis site in the hemisphere. Though two cultural components have been identified at Monte Verde, MV-I, the earlier of the two, is presently known only from a very limited deep excavation. The MV-I component essentially consists of three possible cultural features with a small number (n ¼ 26) of apparently associated P P 5874 lithic artifacts and two radiocarbon determinations of 33,370  530 BP (cal. 37,462–34,761 BCE [1s]) and >33,020 (older than cal. 36,494–35,123 BCE). (All dates are calibrated using OxCal 4.1 [2012], IntCal09 calibration curve). If these assays are accurate, they represent the earliest directly dated human manifestation in the hemisphere. Despite the potentially profound significance of MV-I, which may be penecontemporaneous with the earliest generally accepted penetration of humans into upper Siberia, the excavators prefer to withhold assessment on this component (Dillehay 1997: 774–5). As a result, far more attention has focused on the much more extensively and intensively investigated MV-II component. Monte Verde’s later occupation (Dillehay 1997: 49) is securely dated by over a dozen conventional and AMS assays on various substrates to between c. 12,300 BP (cal 12,874–12,063 BCE [1s]) and 12,800 BP (cal 13,630–13,005 BCE [1s]). Significantly, it appears to reflect a semisedentary, broad-spectrum adaptation that is fundamentally different in all respects from that modeled for later Clovis populations. The MV-II component is a streamside residential site that is sealed beneath a post-occupational peat mantle. The principal habitation area lies north of the stream and is composed of the structural remains of 12 rectangular, hut-like dwellings made of wood elements and covered with plant material and/or the skins or hides of animals like paleo-llama (Llama glama glama). Associated with these structures were four workshop areas, a midden concentration, and a variety of hearths and pits. Excavations in the residential area yielded lithic, bone, wood, and fiber artifacts as well as the remains of more than 70 taxa of plants, including local as well as exotic edible and medicinal varieties. Remarkably, actual specimens of animal tissue and hide were recovered in addition to abundant faunal remains notably including fragmented, burned, and unburned mastodon (Cuvieronius sp.) bone and ivory. Directly to the west of the hut complex was another structure with a wishbone-shaped foundation and extensive associated refuse. Peopling of the Americas Collectively, the archaeological and ecofactual inventory from Monte Verde indicates a semisedentary subsistence regime that included the exploitation of small game, paleo-llama, and larger animals like mastodon as well as a wide diversity of local and nonlocal plant foodstuffs. The tool kit is dominated by perishable artifacts with a lithic industry that is remarkable only for its expedient character and general lack of temporal diagnostics. Indeed, with the exception of three projectile point fragments with apparent affinities to the Paleo-Indian El Jobo type, the majority of the durable tool kit can only be called depauperate, with few curated tools and a virtual absence of formalization. Most of the igneous raw materials employed in the production of the MV-II stone tool kit are derived from locally abundant glaciofluvial gravels with fewer than 15 % coming from nonlocal sources. In sum, the evidence from Monte Verde indicates an adaptation completely inconsistent with the Clovis First paradigm in chronological, technological, and behavioral terms. Though still subject to some criticism, the majority of the North American scholarly community accepts the antiquity of the MV-II occupation at Monte Verde. More than 9,000 km north of Monte Verde is Meadowcroft Rockshelter, a deeply stratified south-facing rockshelter located on a minor tributary of the Ohio River in southwestern Pennsylvania. The 11 strata at this site have yielded the longest occupational sequence from eastern North America and one of the longest in the Americas. The site’s upper strata (Upper IIa–XI), whose temporal provenance has never been seriously disputed, span the entire Holocene with a terminus ad quem dating to just before the American Revolutionary War (CE 1775–1783). The lower culture bearing strata (Middle and Lower IIa) and their attendant radiocarbon dates, however, have been the subject of four decades of vigorous debate and controversy. Continued criticism has pivoted around alleged contamination of only the 11 oldest radiometric determinations from the site, along with the absence of a final report. No evidence of any form of contamination has ever been demonstrated despite extensive Peopling of the Americas publication on stratigraphy and the dating issue, however, and there appears to be an emerging consensus on the antiquity of the site’s deepest levels. Applying the most conservative interpretation of the available chronometric data, the latest age for the presence of human populations in this portion of the Ohio River basin is in the range of 12,000 BP (cal 12,008–11,807 BCE [1s]) to 10,600 BP (cal 10,682–10,593 BCE [1s]). If the six deepest dates unequivocally associated with cultural material are averaged, then humans were definitely present at the site between 14,555 BP (cal 16,023–15,475 BCE [1s]) and 13,955 BP (cal 15,247–14,862 BCE [1s]). The lithic artifact assemblage associated with the earliest Meadowcroft populations is relatively small (approximately 700 specimens) but sufficient to characterize the industry. The Meadowcroft lithic debitage sample reflects secondary and tertiary core reduction and biface thinning from late-stage manufacture as well as the refurbishing of finished implements. The essentially curated tool kit notably includes an unfluted lanceolate bifacial point (the Miller point) and small prismatic to triangular (in cross section) blades struck from small prepared cores. Additionally, bone, wood, and plant fiber artifacts were also recovered from the site’s preClovis levels. These include plaited basketry, a bone punch, bone awl fragments, and a bipointed wooden tool, all apparently made by generalized foragers who exploited white-tailed deer (Odocoileus sp.) and smaller game along with hickory nuts (Carya sp.), walnuts (Juglans sp.), and hackberries (Celtis sp.), during the predominately short-term fall visits. Key Issues/Current Debates The publication of the initial series of radiocarbon dates from Meadowcroft in the mid- to late 1970s, arguably when the Clovis First paradigm was at its zenith, constituted the first serious challenge the Clovis First paradigm and was immediately met with skepticism and withering criticism. The intervening years, however, have 5875 P witnessed the gradual unraveling of Clovis First in the face of mounting evidence to the contrary, both in the form of newly discovered Clovis contemporaries and/or pre-Clovis sites (which as of this writing number at least 30), and more subtle strains of evidence marshaled through advances in analytical techniques, multidisciplinary research initiatives, and innovative approaches. Molecular genetics, bioanthropological research, and historical linguistics, for example, have been enlisted in the search for the points of departure for the early colonizers of the Americas. Moreover, continued archaeological research and refinements in historical geology, historical glaciology, and geomorphology have permitted a better understanding of prior population movements through the Russian Arctic and Siberia and an exploration of their implications for human subsistence and adaptability as well as the timing and route(s) of entry. Freedom from the strictures of received wisdom has also permitted the consideration of factors and approaches which might have previously been ruled out, such as the consideration of coastal (or even maritime) routes of entry to the Americas. Pre-Clovis Sites Perhaps the most important development has been the archaeological discovery of new challengers to the Clovis First paradigm in far-flung localities in North and South America. These include sites which are clearly older than the Clovis horizon and/or penecontemporaneous and, hence, unrelated in any descendent way. Among the older sites is Cactus Hill in Virginia, a stratified, multicomponent, open site situated in an approximately 1.8-m-thick aeolian dune deposit adjacent to the Nottaway River on the interior coastal plain of Virginia. The site was investigated by two independent groups, one directed by J. McAvoy (McAvoy et al. 2000) and the other M. Johnson. The occupational sequence at Cactus Hill is roughly confined to the upper 1 m of the dune deposit but, like Meadowcroft, extends from before Clovis times to the historic period. In several sections of the site, a Clovis occupation has been identified beneath which lies a thinly but clearly P P 5876 separated pre-Clovis component. The Clovis occupation is dated to c. 10,920  250 BP (cal 11,395–10,269 BCE [1s]) on the basis of firepitderived charcoal. The pre-Clovis component has a series of radiocarbon and complementary OSL determinations. Notable are dates of 15,070  70 BP (16,620–16,077 BCE [1s]) from a probable hearth and 16,670  730 BP (19,926–16,636 BCE [1s]) from a charcoal concentration beneath a lithic tool cluster. A second date of 16,940  50 BP (18,401–17,925 BCE [1s]) appears to confirm the other dates as do the OSL assays. Collectively, the data suggests one or more earlier than Clovis occupations dating 17,000–15,000 BP (cal 18,426–16,066 BCE [1s]). Lithic analysis of the approximately 70 flaked stone tools from the pre-Clovis component(s) reflects a core and blade technology with two different kinds of small cores (conical platform cores with and without faceting and thick, chopper-like cores). The locally obtained quartzite cores were flaked with soft stone hammers or hardwood billets thought to have been prepared elsewhere then brought to the site for blade or blade-flake production. Also represented are at least two thin subtriangular to lanceolate unfluted bifaces. The excavators suggest that the blade and biface technology was employed by generalized foragers, not specialized big-game hunters. Additionally, the resemblance of the early Cactus Hill tool kit to its counterpart at Meadowcroft is readily apparent in all but raw material choices. Although a uniform consensus exists for none of them, several other sites in North America are often cited as older than Clovis: the Paisley Five Mile Point Caves in Oregon, Page-Ladson in Florida, the Schaefer and Hebior sites in Wisconsin, and the Deborah L. Friedkin and nearby Gault localities in central Texas. The Paisley Five Mile Point Caves, which were initially investigated in the late 1930s, are a complex of eight closed loci in south central Oregon that were carved by wave action from basalts, volcanic tuffs, and breccias. Much more recent research in Paisley Five Mile Point Cave 5 (Jenkins 2007) has yielded durable and perishable artifacts, cultural features, late Pleistocene Peopling of the Americas faunal remains, and putative human coprolites in apparent association within deeply buried stratigraphic contexts. Seven of the coprolites have been directly dated by radiocarbon assay, yielding ages ranging from 12,400  60 BP (cal 13,011–12,150 BCE [1s]) to 10,670  60 BP (cal 10,744–10,488 BCE [1s]). Five of the dated coprolites have yielded human DNA and human protein residue and are often cited as among the oldest directly assayed evidences of a human presence in North America. Despite fanciful efforts to challenge the anthropogenic origin of the coprolites, many accept these materials as demonstrating a pre-Clovis presence in the Pacific Northwest. Page-Ladson is a sinkhole in the submerged bed of the Aucilla River in the Big Bend area of Florida (Dunbar 2006). Excavations in the deepest levels at this locus have produced lithic debitage, at least one unequivocal uniface, and apparent anthropogenically modified bones and ivory in apparent association with late Pleistocene megafauna including mammoth (Mammuthus primigenius), mastodon (Mammut americanum), horse (Equus sp.), ground sloth (Megalonyx sp.), and paleo-llama (Llama glama glama). A series of radiocarbon dates from these levels range from 13,130  220 BP (cal 14,783–13,172 BCE [1s]) to 11,770  90 BP (cal 11,867–11,457 BCE [1s]). More or less contemporaneous are sites of the Chesrow Complex, defined on the basis of 35 localities on the west side of Lake Michigan in southeastern Wisconsin (Overstreet 2005). The Chesrow Complex includes both habitation and mammal kill/processing localities. Two of the sites, Schaefer and Hebior, are reported to contain cultural materials associated with late Pleistocene megafauna in well-dated contexts. The Chesrow artifact suite as derived from numerous sites includes unfluted lanceolate to basally thinned concave base points, other weakly stemmed points, bifaces, cores, utilized flakes, and hammer stones made largely from locally available quartzite cobbles. Two of the kill/ processing sites have produced radiocarbon determinations from alleged associations with Peopling of the Americas artifacts and extinct fauna. Schaefer yielded eight dates ranging from 12,610  80 BP (cal 13,258–12,289 BCE [1s]) to 10,960  100 BP (cal 11,143–10,695 BCE [1s]) with seven of the eight in the thirteenth millennium BP. Hebior yielded three dates ranging from 12,590  50 BP (cal 13,240–12,309 BCE [1s]) to 12,480  60 BP (cal 13,095–12,229 BCE [1s]). At both sites the principal associated fauna is mammoth (Mammuthus primigenius). Two additional Chesrow Complex sites, Mud Lake and Penske, have also yielded apparently butchered mammoths but without artifact associations. Mud Lake yielded two dates of 13,530  50 BP (cal 14,950–14,497 BCE [1s]) and 13,440  60 BP (cal 14,933–14,229 BCE [1s]); Penske produced two dates of 13,510  50 BP (cal 14,941– 14,471 BCE [1s]) and 13,470  50 BP (cal 14,932–14,403 BCE [1s]). Notably, the excavators of the dated Chesrow sites see technological resemblances between the Chesrow lanceolate bifaces and those recovered from Cactus Hill and Meadowcroft. Debra L. Friedkin and Gault are deeply stratified open sites in central Texas on the alluvial flood plain of Buttermilk Creek, a tributary stream in the Lower Brazos–Little Brazos watershed (Waters et al. 2011). Separated by less than 250 m, it is probable that both sites are part of the same very extensive series of seasonal residential occupations. Deep excavations at these localities have yielded long occupational sequences which include Late Prehistoric; Late, Middle, and Early Archaic manifestations; and the entire PaleoIndian sequence, notably including well-defined (and in the case of Gault, very large) Clovis components. Beneath the Clovis layers at both sites is an extensive manifestation that is older than Clovis. At Friedkin, more than 15,000 artifacts have been recovered from the pre-Clovis levels, a total which includes 12 bifaces, 23 utilized flakes, 19 whole or fragmentary blade or blade flakes, gravers, at least 1 core, and 1 piece of polished hematite. The bifaces include unfluted lanceolate forms and exhibit varying thicknesses. A generally similar assemblage was recovered from Gault, specifically including 5877 P fragments of 2 very small, expanding stem unfluted projectile points and at least 1 unfluted lanceolate biface. Gault also yielded a pre-Clovis stone pavement which may be part of an anthropogenically created house or structure floor. Optically stimulated luminescence dates suggest that the pre-Clovis occupation at Debra L. Friedkin ranges from 14,350 to 16,170 years BP, with a similar estimate for Gault. It should be stressed that the Clovis occupation at Gault is far and away the most extensive ever recorded in North America. Stretching over a minimum of 12 ha, the Clovis component at Gault has produced more than 600,000 Clovis-age lithic artifacts from excavations covering less than 3 % of the site’s total surface area. Virtually all of the lithic artifacts recovered from both sites derive from extensive local outcrops of Edwards Plateau chert, which appears to have been a major attraction to populations visiting both sites throughout their occupational trajectories. Interestingly, the pre-Clovis technology at both sites shares certain attributes not only with later Clovis-age materials but also with the pre-Clovis technology exhibited at such far-flung localities as the Chesrow Complex sites, Meadowcroft Rockshelter, and Cactus Hill. It is also significant that the excavators believe that the Clovis occupations at Gault and Debra L. Friedkin are probably both longer term and suggest a more broadly based subsistence lifestyle than that posited for this time period by the Clovis First paradigm. Clovis Contemporaries: Diversity and Dissimilarity from Clovis As damaging as the evidence from the pre-Clovis sites summarized above is to the integrity of the Clovis First model, data from penecontemporaneous sites and/or complexes to which Clovis cannot possibly be ancestral is equally compelling. As with pre-Clovis manifestations, a significant number of sites, site complexes, and tool industries that have been identified across the length and breadth of the Americas have yielded bona fide artifacts and tool kits reflecting lifestyles that are sharply at variance with the putatively typical Clovis patterns. In far western P P 5878 North America, such phenomena notably include the Western Stemmed Tradition (WST) sites in the Great Basin and immediately contiguous areas (Beck & Jones 2010). Noteworthy among the WST sites are Smith Creek Cave in Nevada (with its Mt. Moriah points, gravers, and unifaces), Danger Cave in Utah, Connley Cave #5 in Oregon, Cooper’s Ferry on the lower Salmon River in Idaho, Clarks Flat on the western flank of the Sierra Nevada Mountains in California, and Dietz in Oregon. While the deepest and oldest dates at several of these localities have been challenged and claims have been made that Clovis predates the WST, it is generally accorded that in technological and behavioral terms, these sites significantly differ from and are fundamentally unrelated to Clovis. Far to the north at the eastern end of the Bering Platform are the central Alaskan sites of the Nenana Complex: Dry Creek, Walker Road, Mock Creek, and Panguingue Creek in the Nenana Valley; Owl Ridge in the neighboring Teklanika Valley; and penecontemporaneous localities like Broken Mammoth, Swan Point, and Mead in the Tanana Valley. Excavations at all of these open sites have produced generally similar lithic assemblages that include Chindadn points (an unfluted lanceolate to subtriangular to teardrop form) and high frequencies of end and side unifaces (i.e., end and side scrapers), other unifacial and bifacial forms, a few true burins, and extensive debitage. Also present at most sites are small- to medium-sized blades, blade cores, and tools made on blades (Powers & Hoffecker 1989). Once thought to date to c. 11,800 BP (cal 11,827–11,529 BCE [1s]) and, therefore, a potential ancestor to Clovis, Nenana is now viewed as a c. 11,300 BP (cal 11,332–11,166 BCE [1s]) Clovis contemporary. Though sharing some broadly similar technological attributes with Clovis, Nenana is clearly not a descendant complex. Farthest afield and not surprisingly evidencing the least technological or behavioral resemblance to Clovis are a growing number of South American sites whose ages are, again, either clearly earlier or broadly contemporary with Clovis. Peopling of the Americas These include Lapa do Boquete, Lapa dos Bichos, and Grande Abrigo de Santana do Riacho in Brazil; Fell’s Cave, Tagua-Tagua, Quebrada Santa Julia, and Quebrada Jaguay in Chile; Tibitó in Columbia; Cerro Tres Tetas, Cueva Casa del Minero, and Piedra Museo in Argentina; and Taima-Taima in Venezuela. Most of these sites have yielded undiagnostic flake tools as well as a minority of bifacial elements. A few, like Fell’s Cave and Piedra Museo, have produced distinctive fishtail points once thought to be Clovis derivatives. Though many of these sites are only partially reported and few have multiple, internally consistent chronometric ages, the inescapable fact remains that their lithic industries are quite different from Clovis (or, indeed, any other North American industries) and are clearly not descended from them. Though this elemental lack of technical relationships has long been cited by South American archaeologists, it has been casually dismissed or ignored by proponents of Clovis First. Discussion Just as the Clovis First model appeared to be consistent with and thereby supported by the extant linguistic and biological data of the 1950s–1970s, so also now does the pre-Clovis paradigm appear to be corroborated, however imperfectly, by more modern data from these disciplines. Although space precludes in-depth discussion of recent genetic, bioanthropological, and linguistic scholarly efforts to address or establish the timing of the arrival(s) of the first humans into the Americas, suffice to note that virtually all of the available genetic, morphological, dental, and linguistic data continue to consistently and overwhelmingly point to an East Asian origin for Native Americans. Despite this fundamental consensus, however, some scholars suggest that at least one of the colonizing lineages (i.e., the X haplogroup) may derive from Iberia, not Siberia (see below), while others advance the possibility of a sub-Saharan African homeland for some native South Americans. Any consensus on the number and/or timing of population pulses into the Americas based on Peopling of the Americas non-archaeological evidence is far more tenuous. Some geneticists and linguists favor a single movement; others advocate two, three, or more population spreads. Some suggest an entry before the Last Glacial Maximum (LGM) now fixed between c. 20,000–19,000 BP and 16,500 BP, others maintain a post-LGM entry, and others still postulate multiple movements before and after the LGM, occasionally with the possibility of failed migrations. Likewise, various models have been offered to simulate rapid population expansion, slower spreading rates, and even very slow movements north to south. None of these models has achieved general or even limited acceptance, and the present state of knowledge unfortunately does not appear to permit the definitive establishment of a chronology for either the first or subsequent entradas. Indeed, Meltzer (2009: 133) may well be correct that the ephemeral signature of the very first colonists on the American landscape will never be found. If there is considerable disagreement over the timing and/or number of separate entradas into the Americas based on genetic or linguistic data, there is perhaps even greater dispute over the route or routes of entry. Some authorities, mostly proponents of Clovis First, still support the traditionally recognized entry route through the unglaciated interior of Beringia into the unglaciated Bering Refugium and thence down the ice-free corridor; others have resurrected coastal entry hypothesis of Fladmark et al. (1988), which holds that populations migrated along the southern margins of the Bering Platform then down the Pacific Coast by a combination of pedestrian and boat travel. A variation of this scenario has coastal migrants moving into the interior at various favorable spots along the way. Still another variant of the coastal hypothesis has populations moving down the coast into Central America then traveling across the Isthmus of Panama and moving north and east around the North American continental margins, without any early penetration of the interior. This view is obviously modeled after the initial coastal peopling of Australia which has gained currency in recent years. 5879 P Perhaps the most controversial colonization scenario yet offered is the trans-Atlantic hypothesis championed by Stanford and Bradley (2012), which posits that maritime-adapted Solutreans emanating out of the Atlantic coast of southern Europe and traversing the North Atlantic in umiak-style watercraft. Upon arriving in the Americas, they are speculated to have introduced elements of Solutrean technology which ultimately gave rise to Clovis in the American southeast. Stanford and Bradley cite the occurrence of the X haplogroup in Western Europe as well as a claimed series of congruencies between Solutrean and later Clovis technology, which they believe cannot be coincidental or reflect convergent evolution. They also cite very recent excavations on the mid-Atlantic coast as well as a series of offshore and terrestrial artifact recoveries of putative Solutrean implements to buttress their claims. Furthermore, to fill the chronological hiatus between Solutrean and Clovis as currently dated, Stanford and Bradley pose Meadowcroft and Cactus Hill as transitional industries. No consensus has been achieved for this scenario to date, and initial scholarly reaction has ranged the gamut from scornful rejection to enthusiastic acceptance. Whatever the plausibility of the trans-Atlantic theory, Stanford and Bradley have correctly stressed the fact, as did Dixon (1999), that scholars have collectively ignored the role of boats, water transport, and maritime adaptations in virtually all North American peopling scenarios. Likewise, until recently, the inundated continental shelf on both the east and west coasts has never been systematically mapped or studied for the presence of early now inundated sites. This lacuna is now being addressed in the Gulf of Mexico, along various points of the Atlantic seaboard, in the Gulf of California, and along the Pacific coast. Despite a sometimes profound lack of resolution to the various issue surrounding the peopling of the Americas, however, several aspects of the debate that were once rejected out of hand by the scholars of the 1960s and 1970s have achieved widespread acceptance by the P P 5880 scholarly community. Based on Monte Verde alone, it is clear that humans entered the Americas well before the appearance and proliferation of Clovis technology. Furthermore, when other early sites and site complexes – such as Meadowcroft, Cactus Hill, the Buttermilk Creek Complex, the Chesrow Complex, the Paisley Five Mile Point Caves, and Page-Ladson – are considered along with penecontemporaneous sites/complexes like Nenana, the WST, and the flake-oriented industries of South America, the case for an earlier-than-Clovis presence is overwhelming. The diversity of the tool kits and attendant lifestyles at many of these sites points toward multiple movements by different groups at different times via different routes from East Asia. Cross-References ▶ Clovis and Folsom, Indigenous Occupation Prior to ▶ Meadowcroft: Geography and Culture ▶ Monte Verde, Archaeology of ▶ North American Terminal Pleistocene Extinctions: Current Views References ADOVASIO, J.M., J.D. GUNN, J. DONAHUE & R. STUCKENRATH. 1977. Meadowcroft Rockshelter: a 16,000 year chronicle, in W.S. Newman & B. Salween (ed.) Amerinds and their paleoenvironments in northeastern North America (Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences 288): 137-59. New York: New York Academy of Sciences. ADOVASIO, J.M., R.C. CARLISLE, K.A. CUSHMAN, J. DONAHUE, J.E. GUILDAY, W.C. JOHNSON, K. LORD, P.W. PARMALEE, R. STUCKENRATH & P.W. WIEGMAN. 1985. Paleoenvironmental reconstruction at Meadowcroft Rockshelter, Washington County, Pennsylvania, in J. I. Mead & D.J. Meltzer (ed.) Environments and extinctions: man in late Glacial North America: 73-110. Orono: Center for the Study of Early Man, University of Maine. ADOVASIO, J.M., J. DONAHUE & R. STUCKENRATH. 1990. The Meadowcroft Rockshelter radiocarbon chronology 1975-1990. American Antiquity 55: 348-54. Peopling of the Americas BECK, C. & G.T. JONES. 2010. Clovis and Western Stemmed: population migration and the meeting of two technologies in the Intermountain West. American Antiquity 75: 81-116. DILLEHAY, T.D. 1989. Monte Verde: a late Pleistocene settlement in Chile, Volume 1. Washington (DC): Smithsonian Institution Press. - 1997. Monte Verde: a late Pleistocene settlement in Chile, Volume 2. Washington (DC): Smithsonian Institution Press. DIXON, E.J. 1999. Bones, boats and bison: archeology and the first colonization of western North America. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. DUNBAR, J.S. 2006. Paleoindian archaeology, in S.D. Webb (ed.) First floridians and last mastodons: the Page-Ladson Site in the Aucilla River: 403-25. Dordrecht: Springer. FLADMARK, K., J. DRIVER & D. ALEXANDER. 1988. The Paleoindian component at Charlie Lake Cave (HbRf39), British Columbia. American Antiquity 53: 371-84. JENKINS, D.L. 2007. Distribution and dating of cultural and paleontological remains at the Paisley Five Mile Point Caves in the northeastern Great Basin: an early assessment, in K.E. Graff & D.N. Schmitt (ed.) Paleoindian or paleoarchaic? Great Basin human ecology at the Pleistocene/Holocene Transition: 57-81. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. MARTIN, P.S. 1967. Pleistocene overkill. Natural History 76: 32-8. MCAVOY, J.M., J.C. BAKER, J.K. FEATHERS, R.L. HODGES, L.J. MCWEENEY & T.R. WHYTE. 2000. Summary of research at the Cactus Hill archaeological site, 44SX202, Sussex County, Virginia: report to the national geographic society in compliance with stipulations of Grant #6345-98. Sandston (VA): Nottaway River Survey. MELTZER, D.J. 2009. First peoples in a new world: colonizing Ice Age America. Berkeley: University of California Press. OVERSTREET, D.F. 2005. Late-Glacial ice-marginal adaptation in southeastern Wisconsin, in R. Bonnichsen, B.T.Lepper, D. Stanford & M.R. Waters (ed.) Paleoamerican origins: beyond Clovis: 183-95. College Station: Texas A&M University Press. OXCAL. 2012. OXCAL Version 4.1, Oxford Radiocarbon Accelerator Unit. Available at: https://c14.arch.ox.ac. uk/oxcal/OxCal.html (accessed March 2012). POWERS, W.R. & J.F. HOFFECKER. 1989. Late Pleistocene settlement in the Nenana Valley, Central Alaska. American Antiquity 54: 263-78. STANFORD, D.J. & B.A. BRADLEY. 2012. Across Atlantic ice: the origin of America’s Clovis culture. Berkeley: University of California Press. WATERS, M.R., S.L. FORMAN, T.A. JENNINGS, L.C. NORDT, S.G. DRIESE, J.M. FEINBERG, J.L. KEENE, J. HALLIGAN, A. LINDQUIST, J. PIERSON, C.T. HALLMARK, M.B. COLLINS & J.E. WIEDERHOLD. 2011. The Buttermilk Creek complex and the origins of Clovis at the Debra L. Friedkin Site, Texas. Science 331: 1599-1603. Pereira, Edithe Pereira, Edithe Vera Guapindaia MCTI/Museu Paraense Emı́lio Goeldi, Belém, Pará, Brazil Basic Biographical Information Edithe Pereira is a Brazilian researcher and archaeologist at the Emilio Goeldi Museum. She was born in the city of Belém, in the state of Pará, which is located in the Amazon region. She graduated from the Federal University of Pará in 1982 with a degree in History, and began her career in archaeology in 1983, as a trainee at the Goeldi Museum under the supervision of Dr. Mário Simões. In 1988, Edithe Pereira joined the research framework of this institution, and in the same year, she started a master course in History at the Federal University of Pernambuco, intending to study Amazon ceramics. Instead, she was drawn to the research being done in Piauı́ by Dr. Niéde Guidon and her team, on what was what to become her greatest interest: Rock Art. Under the guidance of Dr. Anne Marie Pessis, she wrote As Gravuras e Pinturas Rupestres no Pará, Maranhão e Tocantins: Estado atual do Conhecimento e Perspectivas, obtaining a master’s degree in 1990. She then earned her Ph.D. at the University of Valencia, Spain, in 1996, with a thesis entitled Las Pinturas y los Grabados Rupestres del Noroeste de Pará Amazônia – Brasil, directed by Prof. Dr. Valentı́n Villaverde Bonilla. As a dedicated researcher, Edithe Pereira has made Rock Art in the Amazon a lifelong project, and has coordinated projects that include: Survey of Sites in the Lower Amazon Rupestres Records (1990–1993), Rock Art and Archaeological Context in the Lower Region/Middle Araguaia (1999–2000), Arraias Stone to the Cadena Lajedo – the Characterization of Rock Carvings in Southern Pará (2000–2006), Rock Art of Monte Alegre – Dissemination and Memory of Archaeological Heritage (2012–2014), Rock Art and 5881 P Archaeological Context in the Caves of Rurópolis (2012–2014) and The Pre-Colonial Occupation of Monte Alegre (2012–2014). She has also coordinated projects pertaining to Contract Archaeology, including the Preventive Archaeology Program in the area of Serra do Sossego (2001–2006) and the Archaeological Survey in the area of the Belo Monte hydroelectric (1999–2000). Recently, Edithe Pereira began acting in the area of Archaeological Tourism, in partnership with the Instituto do Patrimônio Histórico e Artistico Nacional (IPHAN), on a pioneering project that aimed for the musealization of archaeological sites in the Amazon. She has organized Archaeological Tourism events; among these are the first and second Debate Forum in Archaeology and Tourism in the Amazon in 2005 and 2008, respectively, as well as the Symposium on Tourism, Archaeology of Research and Planning Methodologies (2008), and the International Tourism Workshop on Archaeological and Heritage Management (2009). The result of her involvement with this issue culminated in the book, “Turismo e Gestão do Patrimônio Arqueológico” edited together with Silvio Figueiredo and Marcia Bezerra, and released in 2012. Major Accomplishments Edithe Pereira has contributed decisively to Amazonian Archaeology, particularly in relation to her dedicated research on Rock Art. In the late 1980s when her history as an eminent researcher began, the landscape of rock art studies on Amazon was negligible compared to ceramic studies. All reconstructions of prehistoric occupation of the Amazon, hitherto considered the occupation of the potter to be primary. To cope with this approach, Pereira’s research associates a detailed survey of source tales, spatial distribution, visual documentation and systematic analysis of rock motifs. From the results of this competent and meticulous work emerged the strong potential that studies of rock art in the Amazon have as another important area of knowledge in the reconstruction of the P P 5882 prehistoric Amazon. The bibliographic record on the subject deserve highlights: (1) the article Testimony in Stone: Rock Art in the Amazon (2001), which provides a summary of research conducted on the Amazon so far; (2) the book Arte Rupestre na Amazônia—Pará (2003), which finds, describes, and classifies information about each site, and addresses issues such as diversity of Amazon rock art, the problems of dating and archaeological context. It also sounds an alert on the issue of preservation of these sites, and the Academy of History Paulistana gave this book the CLIO award of History (2005); (3) the book Petróglifos Sul-Americanos of Koch-Grünberg (2010), whose translation into Portuguese was organized by Edithe Pereira; and (4) the articles “Historia de la investigación sobre el arte rupestre en la Amazonı́a brasileña, (2006) and Histoire, territorialité diversité et dans l’art de l’rock Amazonie brésilienne” (2011). In 2008, Pereira Edithe coordinated the First International Meeting of Archaeology Amazon, based in Belém do Pará in an embodiment of the Goeldi Museum, in partnership with the IPHAN and the State Secretary of Culture for the State of Pará. This event fostered discussion on archaeological research conducted in the Amazon over the past 20 years, discussing topics related to the ancient settlement of this region, coastal occupations, domestication of plants, climate change, expanding linguistic, social complexity in ancient Amazonia, historical archaeology, transformations in the landscape, paleogenetic paleodemography, art and archaeology in the Amazon pre-colonial, and heritage education. The book Arqueologia Amazônica (2010), co-edited by Edithe Pereira & Vera Guapindaia, presents the outcome of this meeting in two volumes that demonstrate the undeniable growth of different theoretical and methodological approaches in the study of prehistory Amazon (Whitehead 2011). Edithe Pereira continues to undertake her career as a researcher, producing knowledge that resulted in the recent book publication of A Arte Rupestre de Monte Alegre (2012). As the fruit of her research in Monte Alegre and aiming at the formation of new generations, she has published a children’s book titled Pérez Gollán, José Antonio Itaı́ – A carinha pintada (2012), authored by Juraci Siqueira and illustrated by Mario Baratta, and has produced a documentary about the rock art of Monte Alegre (2012). Edithe Pereira is also a talented photographer taking most of the photos contained in her books, and having published a book of photographs titled Poemas deMiriti, with Luiz Carlos França’s poetry. Cross-References ▶ Heritage Tourism and the Marketplace ▶ Tourism, Archaeology, and Ethics: A Case Study in the Rupununi Region of Guyana References PEREIRA, E. 2003. A arte rupestre da Amazônia—Pará. São Paulo: Unesp; Belém: Museu Paraense Emı́lio Goeldi. - 2012. A arte rupestre de Monte Alegre, Pará, Amazônia, Brasil. Belém: Museu Paraense Emı́lio Goeldi. PEREIRA, E. & V. GUAPINDAIA. (ed.) 2010. Arqueologia Amazônica. Belém: MPEG, IPHAN, SECULT. WHITEHEAD, N. 2011. Arqueologia Amazônica (Resenha). Boletim do Museu Paraense Emı́lio Goeldi. Ciências Humanas Belém 6 (2): 613-16. Pérez Gollán, José Antonio Javier Nastri CONICET – Universidad Maimónides/ Universidad de Buenos Aires, Buenos Aires, Argentina Basic Biographical Information Jose Antonio Pérez Gollán, born in 1937, is a prominent Argentinean archaeologist who has made a main contribution to the archaeology of the southern Andes. Born in the city of Córdoba, Pérez Gollán was educated in history at the National University of Córdoba, earning a B.A. in History in 1965 with a thesis on Peopling Patterns of Northwestern Argentina. That same year he became a fellow of the newly created National Council of Scientific and Technical Pérez Gollán, José Antonio Research (CONICET), and two years later he became a teaching assistant in anthropology at the National University of La Plata. In 1969 he became a researcher at CONICET and in 1971 he was appointed professor at the National University of Córdoba. In 1977 Pérez Gollán obtained a doctoral degree from the National University of Cordoba with a thesis entitled Analysis of Archaeological Ceramics at the Site of Ciénaga Grande (Tumbaya Department, Jujuy Province). Immediately after this, he went into exile in Mexico because of the dangerous situation generated by the military dictatorship installed in Argentina in March 1976. In 1979 Perez Gollán was appointed professor and chair of Andean Ethnohistory at the National School of Anthropology and History and researcher of the National Institute of Anthropology and History, Mexico. Once constitutional order in Argentina was restored in 1983, he returned home to Argentina in 1987 and was reinstated and promoted at CONICET. In the same year he became director of the Ethnographic Museum of the University of Buenos Aires. In 2005 he left that position to assume the direction of the National Historical Museum, where he served until 2013. Perez Gollán has received throughout his career many honors, such as the First Prize (in collaboration) to the Regional Scientific Production (Central Zone), 1966–1967 of the Secretary of Culture of the Nation (Argentina); the Prize for Scientific and Technological Research of the Secretary of Science and Technology of the University of Buenos Aires (three times, in 1992, 1993, and 1994); the Critics Award 2004 of the Argentina Association of Art Critics; the Marta Wegier Prize in 2005; the Konex Award 2006; and the Merit Diploma and Gratia Artis Award 2012 of the National Academy of Arts (Argentina). Major Accomplishments Pérez Gollán undertook his first archaeological experiences as a student at sites in the province of Córdoba, Argentina. From excavations in Los 5883 P Molinos, he obtained the first radiocarbon dating of the province. Later he devoted his efforts to study of the formative period in the Humahuaca Valley, in northwestern Argentina, developing a chronology of “La Isla” pottery, through cross-referencing information from sites in Jujuy with evidence from mortuary contexts of San Pedro de Atacama in northern Chile. Between the late 1960s and early 1970s, Pérez Gollán published in collaboration with Alberto Rex González (Fig. 1) several works of synthesis on ceramic times in northwestern Argentina. One of them, Indigenous Argentina. Eve of the Conquest (González & Pérez 1972), remains to date the most widespread book on Argentine pre-Hispanic past, widely trespassing the boundaries of academia. In the early 1970s, Pérez Gollán opened up new areas of research in partnership with his colleague and friend Osvaldo Heredia, another of González’s disciples from the University of Córdoba. Together, these two investigated the little known area of Cafayate, in Salta, and then Ambato Valley, in the province of Catamarca. In the latter area they made a transcendent discovery in the history of archaeological research in Argentina: the site of La Rinconada, also known as “Iglesia de los Indios,” is the first known ceremonial center of the La Aguada culture (see Pérez Gollán et al. 1997). This archaeological culture had been defined by González a decade before, extending the proposals of Max Uhle, but until then had not been specifically recognized as an indigenous settlement. La Rinconada, subsequently investigated by González and then by Gordillo (see González 1998 for synthesis), provided extensive information on the middle period and on the social organization of sedentary populations in the northwest of Argentina. In 1975 Pérez Gollán attended the famous meeting “Reunión de Teotihuacan,” in which a group of Latin American archaeologists drafted the key document of the Marxist-inspired Latin American Social Archeology trend. During that trip, Pérez Gollán made contacts that would allow him to settle in Mexico two years later, in order to be safe from political persecution in Argentina by the military government. During his exile he P P 5884 Pérez Gollán, José Antonio Pérez Gollán, José Antonio, Fig. 1 José Pérez Gollán (at the right) with his master Alberto Rex González at the Ethnographic Museum of Buenos Aires in 1999 (Courtesy of Pérez Gollán) conducted several field projects and also began to investigate the history of archaeology, around the figure of Vere Gordon Childe. Pérez Gollán’s (1981) book about Childe was the clearest demonstration of a theoretical commitment to leftist thinking by an Argentine archaeologist until that time. However, by then Pérez Gollán had begun to distance himself from the more orthodox and reductionist positions that flourished in the context of Latin American Social Archeology. His teaching work in Mexico put him in contact with Andean chronicles, in which he learned to investigate the symbolic interpretation of preColumbian iconography. His interpretations of the iconography of Lafone Quevedo Disk (corresponding to the Aguada culture) is a milestone in terms of the development of an original form of hermeneutical studies of Andean aboriginal material culture (Pérez Gollán 1986). On a similar vein he produced a new interpretation of the artifacts known as “pleadings” (suplicantes), small stone sculptures of high artistic value, corresponding to the formative period of the Argentine Northwest (Pérez Gollán 2000) (Fig. 2). During the 1990s Pérez Gollán resumed fieldwork in Ambato, Argentina, with colleagues from the National University of Córdoba, revealing ceremonial and habitation sites of the Aguada culture. Pérez Gollán, José Antonio, Fig. 2 Bronze plaque known as “Lafone Quevedo Disk,” whose iconography was studied in detail by Pérez Gollán (Taken from González 2007) Periodization in Japanese Prehistoric Archaeology 5885 P ▶ Childe, Vere Gordon (Political and Social Archaeology) ▶ Childe, Vere Gordon (Theory) References Pérez Gollán, José Antonio, Fig. 3 Facade of the Ethnographic Museum of the University of Buenos Aires (Photo by Javier Nastri) BIANCIOTTI, A. 2005. Alberto Rex González: la imagen y el espejo. Arqueologı́a Suramericana 1(2): 155-184. GONZÁLEZ, A.R. 2007. Arte, estructura, arqueologı́a. Buenos Aires: La Marca Editora. - 1998 Cultura La Aguada. Arqueologı́a y diseños. Buenos Aires: Filmediciones Valero. GONZÁLEZ, A.R. & J.A. PÉREZ. 1972. Argentina indı́gena. Vı́speras de la conquista. Buenos Aires: Paidós. PÉREZ, J.A. 1981. Presencia de Vere Gordon Childe. México: Instituto Nacional de Antropologı́a e Historia. PÉREZ GOLLÁN, J.A. 1986. Iconografı́a religiosa andina en el Noroeste Argentino. Boletı́n del Instituto Francés de Estudios Andinos 15(3-4): 61-72. - 2000. Los suplicantes: una cartografı́a social. Temas de la Academia Nacional de Bellas Artes 2: 21-48. PÉREZ GOLLÁN, J. A., M. BONNIN, A. LAGUENS, S. ASSANDRI, L. FEDERICI, M. GUDEMOS, J. HIERLING & S. JUEZ. 1997. Proyecto Arqueológico Ambato: un estado de la cuestión. Shincal 6: 115-24. Further Reading He conducted then a “rethinking” of that culture, proposing to redefine the middle period as the “Regional Integration Period.” Questions like this gave a strong impetus to research on the topic, which crystallized even in specific conferences on the issue. In recent years, Pérez Gollán’s research has focused on the study of the late period at Ambato Valley, about which very little is known until now. In addition to his archaeological fieldwork, Pérez Gollán is widely recognized for his work as a director of major museums. He introduced modern standards of preservation and exhibition of collections, refurbishment of infrastructure, repatriation of remains, and publishing catalogues during his periods as director at both the Ethnographic Museum of the University of Buenos Aires (Fig. 3) and at the National History Museum of Argentina. BONNIN, M. 2010. Osvaldo Heredia: los proyectos de investigación, el aula y otros contextos de instrucción en la arqueologı́a de los ´60 y ´70. Revista del Museo de Antropologı́a 3: 195-204. PÉREZ GOLLÁN, J.A. & M. DUJOVNE. 2002. De lo hegemónico a lo plural: un museo universitario de antropologı́a. Entrepasados 20/21: 197-208. POLITIS, G. & J.A. PÉREZ GOLLÁN. 2004. Latin American archaeology, from colonialism to globalization, in L. Meskell & R. Preucel (ed.) A companion to social archaeology: 353-73. London: Blackwell. Periodization in Japanese Prehistoric Archaeology Makoto Tomii Centre for Cultural Heritage of Kyoto University, Kyoto, Japan Cross-References Introduction ▶ Andes: Prehistoric Art ▶ Andes: Prehistoric Period It is possible to apply European periodization to Japanese history: prehistory, protohistory, P P 5886 Ancient, Medieval, Early Modern, and Modern. In this entry, I suggest that Ancient period is from 593 to 1192, Medieval from 1192 to 1573, Early Modern from 1573 to 1868, and Modern from 1868 onwards. The prehistoric period consists of the Paleolithic, Jomon, and Yayoi periods, and protohistory is virtually equal to the Kofun period. The Ancient period is composed of the Asuka, Nara, and Heian periods, and the Medieval period is composed of the Kamakura and Muromachi periods. The Early Modern period consists of the Azuchi-Momoyama and Edo periods. The name of a period from Ancient to Early Modern signifies the location of either the capital or the governmental office at that time. The European periodization based upon the 3-age system is not suitable to the case of Japan. While the Paleolithic period in Japan had stone axes with ground edges, and the Stone Age is followed by the Iron Age, the Bronze Age is absent. Instead, pottery/ceramics can be used for marking boundaries in time scales, though certain changes in ceramics in the historical period do not necessarily correspond with an epoch-making event of history in cultural, political, or economical terms, other than in a few exceptional cases, such as the start of production of porcelain which occurred immediately after the dawn of Edo period. Especially after the introduction of kiln firing, in the middle of the Kofun period, the sequence of diagnostic pottery types can be a chronological measure that can mark off every one-fourth or one-fifth century. Even before kiln firing, in spite of its long duration over 14,000 years, pottery is effective in providing precise relative dating. This is because of the huge number of prehistoric sites excavated so far to produce the archaeological data, including pottery that is regarded as time sensitive. The period before the invention of pottery manufacturing is called the “Paleolithic,” though it is sometimes alternatively called the “preceramic” period. In terms of periodization in archaeology, the following paragraphs focus on pre- and protohistory – the Paleolithic, Jomon, Yayoi, and Kofun periods. Periodization in Japanese Prehistoric Archaeology Key Issues and Current Debates Most archaeologists now assume that the first occupation in the Japanese archipelago can be traced back to around 30,000 BP, though they once accepted that this phenomenon could have happened even much earlier. Artifacts dated to about 30,000 BP are often called Middle Paleolithic, though they are not necessarily similar in form to artifacts from the European or Continental Middle Paleolithic. The first discovery of Paleolithic stone tool, in 1949, was long after pottery in Jomon period was recognized as the oldest ceramics in Japan. The most common kinds of stone are obsidian, sanukite, and flintlike silica shale, all of the three also common in Jomon and Yayoi periods. After two decades, the quantity of preceramic artifacts became sufficient to consider a sequence for the Japanese Paleolithic. During the 1970s, before the famous fabrication by Mr. Fujimura (SICPEMP 2003), Professor Sosuke Sugihara, who was one of the two leading scholars in Paleolithic studies, first proposed the subdivision of the Paleolithic into four stages: (1) axe tool, (2) blade tool, (3) point tool, and (4) microlithic. Professor Chosuke Serizawa, the other leading Paleolithic scholar, had pursued studies of the old Paleolithic, which would be comparable to the Early or Middle Paleolithic in the continent, for the latter half of his lifetime. He tried, on the one hand, to distinguish stone tools from eoliths by microscopic use-wear analysis that he introduced to Japanese archaeology and on the other, to pay attention to the different kinds of stone, particularly of chert. The Paleolithic period is the age of the forager. There are dozens of examples of house structures from this period. However, they are considered to have been a beehive and to have functioned as temporary accommodation. The Paleolithic period ends with the appearance of pottery, and the Jomon period starts. However, the invention of pottery is now recognized to have happened within the last glacial period, rather than being the result of adaption to a post-Pleistocene environment. When Paleolithic stone tools Periodization in Japanese Prehistoric Archaeology are found with pottery, they are regarded as belonging to the Jomon period. This is one of the reasons why some archaeologists still use the term “preceramic.” The Jomon period is the time of fisher-huntergatherers with pottery, ranging from 15,000 to about 2,500 BP. During the 1930s, the Jomon period was divided into five main stages according to the relative balance in numbers of pottery types in each stage: initial, early, middle, late, and final. By the 1960s, the incipient stage was added to the division as the first stage. Dr. Sugao Yamanouchi proposed the basic framework for this chronological division of the sequence of Jomon pottery. In some areas where the archaeological materials are rich, there are more than 60 subdivided periods of time, indicated by differences in pottery types. Jomon is originally the consolidated term, Jo-mon, for describing a decoration made by a cord-mark; Jo means a cord or a string, and mon means a figure or a pattern. Between the final Paleolithic and the incipient Jomon, stone industries are not distinguished in practice by archaeologists; bifacial points or microblades are associated with potsherds in some cases, and not in other. However, at around 10,000 BP at the latest, a sedentary lifestyle was set up, indicated by pit-dwelling house structures and the appearance of the concept of a burial area, as well as by a broad spectrum of subsistence strategies suggested by storage pits, shell middens, saddle querns, and so forth. Such Jomon collectors often occupied a large area for their settlement, which would lead to a circular village. They produced a large number of objects and features, such as clay figurines, phallic stones, pottery embedment into the earth’s surface, and stone circles, all of which show their religious customs and beliefs, though the meaning of this is too difficult for us to access. The Jomon period ended with the establishment of the systematic cultivation of rice, and the Yayoi period began. Until the 1920s, rice cultivation was believed to have been introduced with metal use into Japan. However, domestication in itself now can be recognized in the Jomon 5887 P period. In terms of animals, dogs must have been domesticated much earlier, based on the evidence of their burials. In terms of plants, various types of millet are thought to have been introduced by the late Jomon. As Dr. Yamanouchi’s pioneer study (1925) pointed out, rice is also likely to have existed in the final Jomon period at the latest, as evidenced by rice impressions in the textile of, and on the surface of, pottery. Yayoi is named after the type-site in Tokyo where the first Yayoi pottery was found in 1884. This pottery was recognized as different from Jomon pottery in textile and color. Until the 1930s, differences between the Jomon and Yayoi pottery were generally considered, by almost all leading scholars including Ryuzo Torii and Kosaku Hamada, to have been due to the differences in the people who produced the respective pottery. By the 1940s, Dr. Yukio Kobayashi (1943) completed the framework of the relative dating by pottery in Japan. The Yayoi period, from the middle of the first millennium BCE to the early third century CE, is classified by the design of pottery into three main stages: early, middle, and late. Pottery of the beginning of the early Yayoi period can be distinguished from that of the Jomon period in many areas not only by the materials used but also by production technique. The Yayoi period is also marked by the introduction of metal use. Although bronze did not replace stone as the main sharp-edged tool, it served as a ritual good from the early Yayoi period. Stone as a sharp-edged tool was almost fully replaced by iron by the late Yayoi period. Such metallurgy was diffused from the continent through the Korean peninsula, as was the new technology for manufacturing pottery. Yayoi farmers conducted mixed farming with pigs and rice and often built a settlement enclosed by a causeway in which towers, storage buildings, and a shrine were accompanied by normal pit-dwelling houses. These settlements formed a large and complex network of information and exchange not only within the Japanese archipelago but also stretching to the Korean peninsula as indicated by the similarities in pottery, polished stone swords, house plans, and so forth. P P 5888 Moreover, the network was connected with the Chinese continent, as evidenced by imported prestige materials such as bronze mirrors. Yayoi farmers were usually buried in a cemetery, and some of them were deliberately interred in a specific individual grave, within coffins made of wood or cist stone along with other grave goods such as beads, bracelets, swords, and imported mirror. These individual burials were sometimes surrounded by ditches of square shape in the early Yayoi and of circular shape in the late Yayoi. They strongly suggest the appearance of chiefdoms. By the end of the late Yayoi period, some of these delimited graves increased the volume of burial mounds into barrows, in several parts of Japanese main islands. This phenomenon might well point to the appearance of elites and the affiliation of them as well. When the area for mortuary ceremony attached to a barrow within the inside of the ditch, the barrow in turn became a Kofun tumulus. The Kofun period, from the middle third century to the early seventh century, is characterized by the overwhelming vogue to construct tumuli and is divided into three stages: early, middle, and late. The difference between a Yayoi barrow and a Kofun tumulus is subtle. As for the barrow of elites, the mortuary ceremony area was enlarged, and the barrow took a keyhole shape. However, the normal individual burial did not change virtually. However, pottery at the beginning of the Kofun period, called “Furu” type, is easy to distinguish from Yayoi pottery because it has a distinctive feature in the profile of its rim. It also has a wider distribution in many areas. Thus, although there are a number of archaeological sites of this period without a tumulus, such as settlements and ritual sites, they can be dated by the Furu-type pottery. The early Kofun period is also defined as the advent of Haniwa, which was a large ceramic object of various shapes which was placed in line(s) on the surface of tumulus for external decoration. Some of the largest tumuli in the early Kofun period are located in the Kinki region. This fact may support the argument for Yamatai-koku, which was recorded as one of the supreme chiefdoms dominated by the queen named Himiko within the Japanese archipelago Periodization in Japanese Prehistoric Archaeology in the imperial chronicle of the Wei dynasty in ancient China and which is deeply rooted in the identity of modern-day Japanese people. The middle Kofun period is identified by the introduction of Sue pottery, which was the first pottery to be fired in kilns in the history of ceramics in Japan. As for tumuli, the middle Kofun period is also distinguished by the introduction of specific grave goods, other than Sue pottery – a set of harness. This means that the horse was introduced at around this time. These innovations were due to the influence of an immigrant population from Korean peninsula. The distinction between the middle Kofun period and the late Kofun is rather arbitrary, based on a gradual change in form of the various objects in material culture as well as in both the scale and shape of tumuli. The most important characteristic of the late Kofun period is the introduction of Buddhism, dated to 552 or 538. Buddhism became popular with elites, who replaced the Kofun tumulus with a Buddhist temple, which was a different form of monument to their power. By the end of the sixth century, the emperor established his/her power at the pinnacle of hierarchical society in the main lands of Japan and constructed the capital in Asuka area, resulting in the birth of the state of Japan. In terms of archaeological objects, the latter half of the late Kofun period, or Asuka period, is characterized by the appearance of roof tiles engendered by the adoption of Buddhism, though roof tiles were only used in Buddhist temples and in the capital at this time. The age from the late Yayoi period to the end of the Kofun period is so called the time of the “state formation process.” This process has been well studied by many scholars including historians, along with the everlasting controversy in the identification of the location of Yamatai-koku (Saeki 2006, as an example). In terms of archaeological contributions to the study, barrows and tumuli have long been intensively researched by many archaeologists, for example, Professor Yoshiro Kondo (1983, as an example) and Professor Hiroshi Tsude (2005, as an example), while the long history of thorough investigation of not only other features and monuments, including causewayed settlements, shrines, and Permafrost Digging temples, but also artifacts such as bronze mirrors, iron tools, and Sue pottery should not be underestimated. Cross-References ▶ Hamada, Kosaku ▶ Kondo, Yoshiro ▶ Torii, Ryūzō ▶ Tsude, Hiroshi ▶ Yamanouchi, Sugao References KOBAYASHI, Y. 1943. Yayoi-shiki doki sairon. [A detailed discussion on the Yayoi pottery.], in S. Umehara, Y. Kobayashi & K. Fujioka (ed.) Yamako Karako Yayoi Iseki no Kenkyu. [Studies on the Yatoi site at Karako in the Province of Yamato]: 95-143. Kyoto: The Kyoto Imperial University (in Japanese). KONDO, Y. 1983. Zempo-koen-fun no jidai. [The age of the keyhole-shaped tumulus.] Tokyo: Iwanami-shoten (in Japanese). SAEKI, A. 2006. Yamatai-koku Ronso [Controversy over Yamatai-koku.] Tokyo: Iwanami-shoten (in Japanese). SICPEMP (THE SPECIAL INSPECTION COMMITTEE FOR THE PROBLEM ON THE EARLY AND MIDDLE PALAEOLITHIC, THE JAPANESE ARCHAEOLOGICAL ASSOCIATION). 2003. Inspection of the early and middle Palaeolithic problem in Japan: final report. Tokyo: The Japanese Archaeological Association. TSUDE, H. 2005. Zempo-koen-fun to shakai. [Keyholeshaped tombs and society.] Tokyo: Hanawa-shobo (in Japanese). YAMANOUCHI, S. 1925. Sekki jidai nimo ine ari. [There existed rice in the Stone Age.] Jinruigaku-zasshi [The Journal of the Anthropological Society of Tokyo] 40(5): 181-184 (in Japanese). Further Reading HABU, J. 2004. Ancient Jomon of Japan. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. IMAMURA, K. 1996. Prehistoric Japan: new perspectives on Insular East Asia. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. INTERNATIONAL CHRISTIAN UNIVERSITY HACHIRO YUASA MEMORIAL MUSEUM. 1993. An introduction to Japanese archaeology and the sites in the ICU campus. Tokyo: Beniya Press. ISHINO, H., T. IWASAKI, K. KAWAKAMI & T. SHIRAISHI. (ed.) 1990-93. Kofun jidai no kenkyu. [The studies of Kofun period.], Volumes 1-13. Tokyo: Yuzan-kaku (in Japanese). 5889 P ITASAKA, G. (ed.) 1996. Japanese history: 11 experts reflect on the past. Tokyo: Kodansha International. KANASEKI, H. & M. SAHARA. (ed.) 1985-89. Yayoi bunka no kenkyu. [The studies of Yayoi culture.], Volumes 1-10. Tokyo: Yuzan-kaku (in Japanese). KONDO, Y., K. YOKOYAMA, K. AMAKASU, S. KATO, M. SAHARA, M. TANAKA & M. TOZAWA. (ed.) 1985-86. Iwanami koza: nihon kokogaku. [The Iwanami’s academic courses: Japanese archaeology.], Volumes 1-9. Tokyo: Iwanami-Shoten (in Japanese). KOSUGI, Y., Y. TANIGUCHI, Y. NISHIDA, K. MIZUNOE & K. YANO. (ed.) 2007-10. Jomon jidai no kokogaku. [Archaeology on Jomon period.], Volumes 1-12. Tokyo: Dosei-sha (in Japanese). MIZOGUCHI, K. 2002. An archaeological history of Japan, 30,000 B.C. to A.D. 700. Pennsylvania: University of Pennsylvania Press. PEARSON, R. (ed.) 1986. Windows on the Japanese past: studies in archaeology and prehistory. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, the University of Michigan. REISCHAUER, E.O. & I. KATO. (ed.) 1993. Japan: an illustrated encyclopedia. Tokyo: Kodan-sha. TANAKA, M. & M. SAHARA. (ed.) 1996-98. Rekishi hakkutsu. [Excavating the history.], Volumes 1-12. Tokyo: Kodan-sha (in Japanese). WIECZOREK, A. & W. STEINHAUS. (ed.) 2004. Zeit der Morgenröte: Japans Archäologie und Geschichte bis zu den ersten Kaisern. Mannheim: Reiss-EngelhornMuseen. Permafrost Digging Vladimir Pitulko Paleolithic Department, Institute for the History of Material Culture, Russian Academy of Sciences, St. Petersburg, Russia Brief Definition of the Topic Permafrost is defined as ground that remains below 0  C for at least two years. As a natural conservation agent, it provides an archive of environmental proxy records including biological materials of vegetable, animal and human origin, and artifacts, particularly those made of organic materials such as wood, bone (antler, ivory), or fibers deriving from plants or animals. Permafrost may contain up to 60 % of ice or virtually none at all. Atmospheric heat and water alter deposits quickly, and dramatically P P 5890 Permafrost Digging Permafrost Digging, Fig. 1 Excavations of the Zhokhov site, 2004, by V. V. Pitulko (8,000 BP, New Siberian Islands, Russian Arctic) affect the preservation of archaeological sites. Finding sites in this terrain still depends on artifacts or cultural layers exposed by chance. Test pits, aerial and geophysical methods have not been successful except for the most recent sites of approximately past 2,000 years or so. Early Holocene and Pleistocene sites, particularly in Siberia, still remain fully frozen. Not many of them are known up to now, but in all cases, they are encased in ice-rich deposits. Experience of excavating such sites is so far limited to three cases – Zhokhov, Yana RHS, and Berelekh (Pitulko 2008). Excavation strategies are determined mostly by the depth of the site and the degree of icing. Where cover is thin, area excavation can be applied, but under a thick cover of frozen ground, it is necessary to approach from the side in profile. Examples of both these strategies are given here. On shallow sites, after the frozen deposit is exposed in area, there are three steps in the investigation: (1) thawing, (2) drying (by evaporation and drainage), and (3) regular excavation of the now relatively dry cultural deposits. Steps (1) and (2) require permanent control. Fast thawing creates too much water and saturates the sediment. Forced thawing can be done if the host sediment is not deep frozen and has a low ice content. The best system is to rely on natural melting and evaporation under a summer breeze. Ideally, the area is large enough to be divided into three: one third thawing, another drying, and the last being excavated. Depending on weather conditions, this allows the excavation of strata 5–10-cm thick each day. This method was successfully used at Zhokhov (Fig. 1), and resulted in the excavation of cultural deposits extending over about 500 m2, to a depth of 3 m (Pitulko 2008). A sump is required to pump out the meltwater. Screening is achieved using water with a low pressure pump. In other respects, routine archaeological procedures are followed. Deep sites, with a thick cover of overlain deposits, can only be accessed from a lateral exposure, for example, in a river bank as at Yana RHS (Pitulko 2008; Pitulko & Pavlova 2010). Here the overburden was 7–8-m thick, with an ice content of 40–50 %, and included a polygonal grid of syngenetic ice wedges. It is always possible to clean up and record cultural Permafrost Digging 5891 P Permafrost Digging, Fig. 2 Excavations on the river bank at Yana RHS, Northern Area, 2011 (28,000 BP, low Yana River, north of YanaIndighirka Lowland: excavations by V. V. Pitulko) layers seen in the profile, and even to record some finds in situ. However, real excavations are possible only if the ice wedges are first extracted from the archaeological deposit. This can be achieved by thawing if they are well exposed to the air and the bottom of the wedge is below the cultural layer. As soon as the top of the wedge becomes thawed, it is shoveled out and the adjacent deposit can be excavated in a strip 1–2-m wide. Then the operation is repeated, gradually reducing the deposit in series of steps (Fig. 2). This prevents the remaining thawed deposits from collapse. Material that has been shoveled out is removed by pumping water through the natural erosional channels created by the ice wedges. This kind of excavation requires a large investment of labor. More than 2,000 m2 has now been excavated at Yana RHS. The radiocarbon dating of frozen sites in permafrost areas is tricky. Wood, particularly in small pieces, is a floatable material and can be easily transported from elsewhere or deliberately recycled. Although the date of bone will relate directly to the death of the animal, some bone (e.g., mammoth) may be curated over long periods. Sediments themselves may transported through ice action. Dating of the host sediment may give dates approximately 2,000 radiocarbon years older than the date of plant remains they contain (Pitulko & Pavlova 2010). Errors can be avoided by taking many samples from above and below the cultural layers, as well as within them. P Cross-References ▶ Excavation Methods in Archaeology ▶ Field Method in Archaeology: Overview ▶ Polar Exploration Archaeology (North) References PITULKO, V. V. 2008. Principal excavation techniques under permafrost conditions (based on Zhokhov and Yana Sites, northern Yakutia). Archaeology, Ethnology and Anthropology of Eurasia 34(2): 26-33. PITULKO, V. V. & E. Y. PAVLOVA. 2010. Geoarchaeology and radiocarbon chronology of the Stone Age of the North-East Asia. Saint Petersburg: Nauka. P 5892 Peru: Cultural Heritage Management and Education prejudices of people with different cultural pat- Peru: Cultural Heritage Management terns. Even though such division disappeared after the Peruvian independence, social exclusion and Education Jorge E. Silva Sifuentes School of Archaeology, San Marcos University, Lima, Perú Ricardo Palma University, Lima, Perú Introduction The Peruvian Cultural Heritage Peru’s cultural heritage includes the legacy, tangible and non-tangible, of its pre-Hispanic cultures, those belonging to Colonial and Republican periods, present-day cultural manifestations, either urban or rural, the culture of native communities in the tropical forest and the highlands, besides the Africans, Asians and Europeans who also brought distinctive cultural customs either in colonial times or later. In fact, all of them have created what Peru is today, and as in the past, we are part of a multicultural country. However, there have been diverse opinions about what cultural heritage is, and on occasions, it has been controlled by the interests of particular dominant groups or social classes that have the political and economic power in Peru. During the Colonial period, such designation for the Spaniards was related to the idea of valuable antiquities, relics, and monuments. For example, H. Cortés said, “I came looking for treasures, not to cultivate the land as a peasant” (Ravines 1986: 147). Even at that time, governments attempted to protect antiquities of new world conquered nations, as testified by Leyes de Indias y la Polı́tica Indiana (Indian laws and Indian Politics) published by Solorzano and Pereyra (Ravines 1986: 148). Additionally, the division into the “Republic of Spaniards” and the “Republic of Indians” during the Colonial period, in which the former was related to a civilized way of life and the latter to a primitive one, helped to develop an incorrect idea about the past based on values such as grandeur and appearance that encouraged the continued, and the dominant social class that inherited the ideology of the first group built its own parameters about the past based on the criteria of monumentality and aesthetics. Such discourse admired past and present cultural manifestations as isolated events not necessarily associated with the history and the creativity of people from whom Peruvians descend. Therefore, very little effort was devoted to learning and valuing past and present cultural manifestations. Definition Types of Peruvian Cultural Heritage The Peruvian cultural heritage has been divided based on physical features (monumentality of buildings), fragility (documentary data, pieces of textiles, and organic materials), and time period (pre-Hispanic, Colonial, and Republican epochs); on the other hand, according to its bylaw of Organization and Functions (Supreme Decree 001-2011-MC, May 13, 2011), the Ministry of Culture (Law 29565, 1910) not only recognizes present-day Peruvian cultural diversity but also has also created several departments in order to manage culture. Heritage is divided into Archaeological Heritage, Contemporaneous Nonmaterial Heritage, Colonial and Republican Historic Heritage, and Cultural Landscape. Therefore, the Peruvian cultural heritage includes the following: Monumental This may be defined based on size and aesthetic features and includes monuments of pre-Hispanic times (a domestic settlement or the city of Chan Chan), apart from Colonial and Republican buildings (the Church of San Francisco and the Oquendo or the Osambela Residence). According to Article 21 of Peru’s Political Constitution enacted in 1993, in order to become a cultural heritage, it must be declared as such through a Ministerial Resolution. Peru: Cultural Heritage Management and Education Documentary Data This is an endangered type of heritage given its fragility and includes all kinds of texts and documents written in Panama even before the Tawantinsuyu Empire was conquered in 1532 (Varon 1986). Among other texts is one which describes how much gold and silver Inca Atahualpa gave for his freedom and how gold and silver were distributed among the conquerors. Means of conservation for this documentary evidence are mainly devoted to preserving only those documents considered as valuable; however, due to lack of funds and other factors, case preservation within Peru is very difficult. For example, the Independence Act of 1821 was sent to the Vaticano archive for treatment. Arts and Crafts: Folklore This cultural expression persists within the context of the modernity and globalization. A large portion of this heritage originates from craftsmanship composed of objects made out of clay, wood, metal, timber, textiles, etc., and vernacular music. According to Oliva (1986), this cultural expression was influenced by the indigenous movement that began in the 1920s, and its demand by tourists and Lima’s middle class in the 1960s and 1970s increased its production. As a result, quality of handmade crafts was poor, and in several cases, the tendency was to impose other nontraditional decorative motifs. Craftsmen’s reaction was to return to their home to produce with freedom and complete autonomy. Oral Tradition According to Millones (1986), it includes life stories, ritualism, songs, legends, and fairy tales and is extremely relevant for Peruvians since the written words did not exist before the Spanish conquest. This heritage is transmitted orally, from generation to generation; makes part of the collective memory of the community; and represents belief systems, values, and the spirituality of a nation; therefore, oral communication is more important than written communication. 5893 P Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples The Role of Education in Peru: Points of View and Controversy Peruvian educational goals have been a topic of debate since the nineteenth century. Such debate focused on how education should help to integrate and develop the country, and while a group supported its elite character, another group proposed that education should attempt to liberate and redeem the natives. This latter group declared that education had to do with the “Indian Problem,” which became a part of a larger dilemma since it would have first been necessary to change the political and economic structure of Peru in order to improve the education (Ames 2005: 358). At present, studies about the role of education in Peru show that it is just one way of improving social position, obtaining social mobility, and improving living conditions. In other words, education seems to be within a developmental project designed to promote change and modernity. This assumption is supported by data collected by E. Vasquez in the 1950s at Vicos, a community in the northern highlands. Similar results from communities of Lampián, Huayopampa, and Pacaraos, in the Peruvian central coast Chancay River Valley, were recovered by F. Fuenzalida and Carlos Iván Degregori in the 1960s and 1970s (Ames 2005: 360-2). However, there are different perspectives on this issue. Montoya states that education contributes to losing “cultural identity” because its goal is progress. Formal education does not consider native values and emphasizes western society models. For example, Montoya (2011) remarked that the Summer Institute of Linguistics in the jungle of Peru provided topics with religious orientation. Therefore, Montoya names it “education’s contemporaneous myth” (Ames 2005: 365). From the native’s point of view, education scares native children since attending class means ending the relationship between man and nature. According to Ames, Peruvian modern education “leads to the ignoring or destroying of P P 5894 peasant culture and to the acceptance of the dominant ideology” (Ames 2005: 362). Peruvian cultural diversity has been seen as a disadvantage when it came to the purposes of educational projects, since traditional communities of the highlands and tropical forest seem to be conservative when faced with new cultural patterns. With regard to whether we only need to study cultural diversity or if it is also necessary to apply educational and developmental programs, many questions arise. How should this situation be approached? What is best for these communities? Who decides what is best for everybody? As previously indicated, scholars differ on these topics. Heise et al. (1994: 14) say, “We disagree with the position of intellectuals who approach the study of traditional cultures with the interest that they remain static, and impose the conservation of their traditions and past. . .” Therefore, the issue of cultural heritage implies a theoretical elaboration, especially if an educational program has to be developed. Assuming that cultural heritage expresses specific features of a shared social custom of a human group that coexists with other cultural customs, it is necessary to identify and treat all of them equally, since together, they represent the identity of a given society. In other words, the cultural diversity of a country should not be arranged into rating scales because each specific cultural manifestation has its own material representation and way of thinking. Why shall we consider such a premise? Simply because culture is social, and when an individual permanently socializes, he engages in several interactions, including educational ones. Also, a dialogue involving distinct social actors is opened, and with this interacting process, it is possible to understand the other social actors and to discover that common interests do exist. Given the fact that in Peru several cultural expressions exist, an intercultural process has been proposed (Zúñiga & Ansión 1997). What is this intercultural process? Scholars concur that it is where populations practicing distinctive cultural patterns share and make their lives. For example, the recent Peruvian and US Treaty for Peru: Cultural Heritage Management and Education Free Commerce has propitiated intense relationships between particular cultural patterns that influence one another mutually, no matter if one of them plays a dominant role in the relationship. What is important to note here is that both of them have their own cultural patterns and traditions. However, although interculturality exists in Peru, it requires long-term state support and community participation. In fact, Montoya (2011: 420) believes that its application is still a dream because “cultural conflict” persists, and it is far from being solved since natives are excluded from development and social programs. Additionally, it has been observed that intercultural processes are sometimes so complex and profound that they are difficult to identify. For example, to what extent did native Mesoamerican and Andean food staples influence North America? Mexican chili, corn, and the Peruvian tomato are just a few. Also, we may ask what highland influences are observed among modern creole populations in the Peruvian coast; for example, the “causa” dish (potato and chili) is well known in Lima, but we do not know when and how it was introduced into the main menu of coastal cities. Legal System and Education of Cultural Heritage The political constitution of 1993 not only establishes respect for people’s identity but also proposes bilingual and intercultural education based on regional characteristics in order to preserve Peruvian cultural manifestations and meet cultural integration. However, archaeological heritage, Historic period relics and monuments, and archive documents receive a somewhat distinctive treatment since it is first necessary to nominate them as cultural heritage before they are registered in the Peruvian cultural heritage records (Article 21; Article 58, items i, m, r of bylaw of Organization and Functions of the Ministry of Culture). The General Law of Peruvian Education states that education should be formulated based on Peruvian diversity, taking into account interculturality and respecting the environment (Articles 7, 8). Consequently, education must Peru: Cultural Heritage Management and Education affirm national identity without neglecting Peru’s cultural, ethnic, and linguistic diversity (Article 9). In order to achieve this commitment, education in native communities should apply special curricula (Article 19), although a common curriculum should be implemented for the entire country (Article 13, item b). Clearly, with this plan, education must be offered in Spanish and in other native languages spoken in the highlands (Quechua, Aymara) or in the Amazon basin. Actually, intercultural processes need to be implemented in Peru in consideration with its cultural diversity. By 1999, 45 native languages existed in Peru, apart from Quechua and Aymara groups; there were 42 communities and 16 linguistic families in the jungle, 18 of which may soon disappear. Although the 1993 Census registered 3,177,938 Quechua-speaking people, research by anthropologists indicates that 4,500,000 people spoke Quechua by 1999. With the addition of Quechua speakers in the Amazon, the total is 5,700,000 individuals (Montoya 2011: 423, 424, 515). According to the spirit of both the Political Constitution and the General Law of Education, the Ministry of Culture has approved several guidelines through its bylaw of Organization and Functions. This document recognizes cultural diversity and proposes to support cultural development through intercultural projects. In fact, the goal behind this plan is to affirm Peruvian national identity, sustain its social inclusion, and shape an intercultural citizenship (Sections 3.3.2.1, 3.3.2.2, items f, Article 12, item b). The bylaw encourages training in the area of cultural management and implementing a network of research and data collecting of present-day cultural manifestations, including traditional native knowledge (Article 12, item h; Article 64, item j; Article 71, item n). With regard to archaeological remains, the office of the Director of Archaeology will propitiate the creation of site museums and centers of interpretation at archaeological settlements so that the visitors understand the significance of past remains (Article 54, item f). Additionally, the 5895 P office of the Director of Museums will coordinate with university research and data collecting about current cultural manifestations (Article 56, item d). As stated previously, the Ministry of Culture is supposed to manage all past and present cultural manifestations, besides ethnic and cultural pluralism of Peru, since the state is responsible for policies regarding cultural issues. The Political Constitution of Peru indicates that education should emphasize the progress and development of the country; this goal should be pursued with an open spirit in its citizens which will enable them to participate in this process (Art. 3, Section 3.2, items h, j, also Section 3.3.1, item e). In addition, recommendations about formation on cultural topics as part of the national educational system will be formulated (Art. 3.3.1, item g), apart from implementing cultural programs through mass-media systems (Art. 3.3.1, item m). In fact, there are already several TV programs portraying different cultural expressions. However, even though it is still early for an appraisal of how educational plans on cultural heritage will be eventually implemented, it appears that the law emphasizes its economic benefits. The expression “cultural industries” (see, e.g., Section 3.2, item h, Section 3.3.1, item f) seems to point towards improving infrastructure (roads, hotels, flying routes, etc.). Interestingly, this law seems to prefer homogeneity rather than diversity, as may be interpreted from its plan of “integrating all the Peruvians” (Section 3.3.1, item m). On the other hand, promotion of tourism only considers the Ministry of Foreign Commerce and Tourism’s participation, but not that of the universities (Section 3.3.1, item p). Why should universities be consultants? The answer is simple; several universities, public and private, have schools of Archaeology, Anthropology, and Tourism. In addition, pre-Hispanic cultural heritage is at least 12,000 years old, in comparison to the Colonial and Republic periods which together are only 519 years old, if we consider the discovery of America as a chronological reference. Needless to say, tourists visit Peru because of its long history and its biodiversity. P P 5896 Concluding Remarks The education of Peruvian cultural heritage is the responsibility of both the state and the community. The participation of all social actors may prevent inappropriate decisions that may not be part of long-term cultural plans, such as those archaeological discoveries governments took for granted right after the media pointed out their importance to the country. For example, the royal tombs of Sipan in the mid-1980s, the mummy Juanita found on the Ampato snowcovered peak in the 1990s, and the attention paid to the Amazon native communities at the beginning of this century. However, the positive reactions of people are spontaneous and temporary; they disappear when the political agenda changes. Establishing educational programs about cultural heritage in Peru implies the consideration of regional particularities since each region contains customs, monuments, and relics that have become icons. Therefore, an intercultural approach is recommended. For example, while the people of Ica, located in the southern coast of Peru, have a historical link with the Nasca culture, the people of the Callejon de Huaylas have a connection with the Recuay culture and the nearby snow-covered mountains of Huascaran and Huandoy. In both of these cases, the creation of specific symbolic meanings refers to concrete relationships established through myths, natural components, buildings, and objects. Peruvian culture, past and present, is the coalescence of those manifestations, and education programs should not neglect them. In other words, the Amazon basin and Machu Picchu form part of this old natural and cultural legacy of the Andean universe. It is recommended that a bilingual intercultural approach be taken with regard to present-day native communities for educational purposes in order to avoid cultural shock between traditional values and occidental external components which usually represent the dominant culture. By this process, natives increase their knowledge about the exterior world which is unavoidably present in the everyday life of the population. To pretend that people ignore such Peru: Cultural Heritage Management and Education external knowledge is to deny them their cultural rights to survive and face the world. In other words, people should learn how to live with other cultural components without denying their own cultural patterns. Cross-References ▶ Australia: Cultural Heritage Management Education ▶ Brazil: Cultural Heritage Management Education ▶ Canada: Cultural Heritage Management Education ▶ China: Cultural Heritage Management Education ▶ Heritage and Higher Education ▶ Japan: Cultural Heritage Management Education ▶ Kyrgyzstan: Cultural Heritage Management ▶ United States: Cultural Heritage Management Education References AMES, P. 2005. La escuela es progreso? Antropologı́a y educación en el Perú, in C.I. Degregori (ed.) No hay paı́s más diverso. Compendio de antropologı́a Peruana: 356-91. Lima: PUCP. HEISE, M., F. TUBINO & W. ARDITO. 1994. Interculturalidad un desafı́o. Lima: Centro Amazónico de Antropologı́a y Aplicación Práctica. MILLONES, L. 1986. Rescate de la tradición oral: tarea inmediata, in FOMCIENCIAS (ed.) Patrimonio cultural del Perú. Balance y perspectivas: 125-29. Lima: FOMCIENCIAS. MONTOYA, R. 2011. Porvenir de la cultura quechua en Perú. Desde Lima, Villa El Salvador y Puquio. Lima: Fondo Editorial Universidad de San Marcos. OLIVA, F. 1986. Testimonio de un artista, in FOMCIENCIAS (ed.) Patrimonio cultural del Perú. Balance y perspectivas: 93-115. Lima: FOMCIENCIAS. RAVINES, R. 1986. Comentarios y sugerencias por panelistas a esta primera parte de la Reuniónseminario, in FOMCIENCIAS (ed.) Patrimonio cultural del Perú. Balance y perspectivas: 144-52. Lima: FOMCIENCIAS. VARON, R. 1986. Preservación y promoción del patrimonio documental de la nación, in FOMCIENCIAS (ed.) Petra National Trust and the Challenge of Site Management at Petra Patrimonio cultural del Perú. Balance y perspectivas: 75-92. Lima: FOMCIENCIAS. ZÚÑIGA, M. & J. ANSIÓN. 1997. Interculturalidad y educación en el Perú. Lima: Foro Educativo. Availwww.concytec.gob.pe/foroafroperuano/ able at: interculturidad.htm Further Reading CENTRO DE DESARROLLO ETNICO-CEDET. (ed.) 2011. Desde adentro. Etnoeducación e interculturalidad en el Perú y América Latina. Lima: Centro de Desarrollo Etnico. DEGREGORI, C.I. (ed.) 2005. No hay paı́s más diverso. Compendio de antropologı́a Peruana (2nd edn.) Lima: Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, Instituto de Estudios Peruanos. ESSOMBA, M.A. 1999. Construir la escuela intercultural. Reflexiones y propuestas para trabajar la diversidad é tnica y cultural. Barcelona: Editorial GRAO, de Serveis Pedagógies. HEISE, M. (ed.) 2001. Interculturalidad: creación de un concepto y desarrollo de una actitud. Programa FORTE-PE. Lima: Convenio Unión EuropeaRepública del Perú. Ministerio de Educación. MESSENGER, P.M. 1995a. Commentary: public education initiatives, in M. Lynott & A. Wylie (ed.) Ethics in American archaeology: challenges for the 1990s, special report. Washington (DC): SAA. - 1995b. Archaeology and public education: a communication tool across disciplines. Paper presented in a symposium on the SAA public committee at the 1995 Chacmool Conference. Archaeology for the 21st Century: Public or Perish. Calgary: University of Calgary. MESSENGER, P.M. (ed.) 1999. The ethics of collecting cultural property: whose culture? Whose property? (2nd edn.) Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. MESSENGER, P.M. & W.W. ENLOE. 1991. The archaeologist as global educator, in G.S. Smith & J. Ehrenhard (ed.) Protecting the past: 157-66. Boca Raton (FL): CRC Press. MESSENGER, P.M. & K.C. SMITH. 1995. Archaeology and public education. Quarterly Publication of the SAA 5(4). MESSENGER, P. & G. SMITH. (ed.) 2010. Cultural heritage management. A global perspective. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. PISCOYA, L. 2011. A dónde nos llevan nuestras universidades? Lima: Fondo Editorial Universidad Inca Garcilaso de la Vega. SANTA CRUZ, M. 2009. La identidad nacional desde las Aulas Universitarias. Lima: Garden Graf SRL. SHACKEL, P. 2010. Series foreword. Global perspective and world heritage, in P. Messenger & G. Smith (ed.) Cultural heritage management. A global perspective: viii-ix. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. SILVA, J. 1996. Arqueologı́a en el Perú: Por qué, para qué? Universidad y Sociedad 6: 38-40. 5897 P - 1997. Algunas reflexiones sobre la arqueologı́a en el Perú, in L. Arana (ed.) Nueva Sı́ntesis 4, Year IV: 27-35. Lima. - 2010. Heritage resource management in Peru, in P. Messenger & G. Smith (ed.) Cultural heritage management. A global perspective: 124-35. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. SMITH, G.S. & F.P. MACMANAMON. 1988. Archaeology and the federal government. CRM Bulletin 11. Special Issue. SMITH, G.S. & J.E. EHRENHARD. (ed.) 1991. Protecting the past. Boca Ratón (FL): CRC Press. SMITH, K.C. 1995. SAA public education committee: seeking public involvement on many fronts. CRM: Archaeology and the Public 18: 25-8. STONE, P. 2010. Foreword, in P. Messenger & G. Smith (ed.) Cultural heritage management. A global perspective: x-xii. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. ZARIGUEY, R. (ed.) 2003. Realidad multilingue y desafı́o intercultural. Ciudadanı́a, polı́tica y educación. Actas del V congreso Latinoamericano de educación intercultural bilingüe. Lima: Pontificia Universidad Católica. Petra National Trust and the Challenge of Site Management at Petra Aysar Akrawi Petra National Trust, Amman, The Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, Jordan Introduction The site of Petra is one of the most spectacular sites in the Near East, Petra has long attracted travelers and explorers, and archaeological investigations have been conducted in the area since the 1930s. Late in 1985, UNESCO inscribed Petra on the UNESCO World Heritage List on the basis of its “Outstanding Universal Values.” On four occasions thereafter, Petra was placed on the “World Monuments Fund’s 100 Most Endangered Sites”. On July 7, 2007, Petra was selected as one of the “New 7 Wonders of the World”. Petra is located halfway between the Red Sea and the Dead Sea in Jordan (Fig. 1) and has been inhabited for more than 200,000 years. Traditionally the tribes were shepherds and farmers. P P 5898 Petra National Trust and the Challenge of Site Management at Petra Petra National Trust and the Challenge of Site Management at Petra, Fig. 1 Map of Jordan Today people in the area live in modern hillside towns and villages and Bedouin encampments. The park is surrounded by six main towns, and they are, from north to south, Beidha, Um Seyhun, Wadi Musa, Taybeh, Rajef, and Dlagha (Fig. 2). In recent years, with the arrival of tourists, the inhabitants have moved closer to the archaeological site and earn a living by working on excavations and guiding tourists. Definition Petra National Trust (PNT) is a Jordanian nongovernmental organization (NGO) dedicated to the preservation and protection of the World Heritage Site of Petra. Since its inception in 1989, PNT has worked to bring together people in Jordan and abroad who are committed to that same goal. The Trust is the pioneer NGO in the field of archaeological, natural, and cultural heritage preservation in Jordan. PNT does not set policy but works with the policy makers in the government of Jordan and with other NGOs to achieve its objectives. HRH Prince Raad bin Zeid, as president of the Board of Trustees, oversees the Trust’s activities and guides PNT in the implementation of its mission and the fulfillment of its vision. PNT implements its mission through conducting preservation projects and by raising awareness. PNT was instrumental in 1993 in the Petra National Trust and the Challenge of Site Management at Petra Petra National Trust and the Challenge of Site Management at Petra, Fig. 2 Map of the PAP, showing the main towns surrounding the PAP TO KARAK 5899 P TO AMMAN SHOBAK BEIDHA UM SEYHOUN WADI MOUSA TAYBEH MA’AN RAJEF Dlagha MAP OF THE PETRA REGION THE PROTECTED AREA OF THE PETRA REGION APPROXIMATELY 900 SQUARE KILOMETRES TO AQABA creation of the Petra Archeological Park (PAP), a protected area covering 264 m2. With the aim of decentralizing the management of Petra, in 1995, PNT played a pivotal role in the establishment of a single body, the Petra Regional Planning Council (PRPC), to govern the Petra Region that later came to be known as the Petra Regional Authority (PRA). This authority evolved into the Petra Development Tourism Regional Authority (PDTRA). The role of all these bodies, present THE ARCHAEOLOGICAL PARK OF PETRA APPROXIMATELY 265 SQUARE KILOMETRES PNT PRODUCTION, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED and past, is to coordinate the efforts of the many Jordanian governmental departments and other institutions involved within the Petra region to maintain a balance between heritage preservation and tourism development and to promote responsible tourism. In all its activities, PNT cooperates closely with the Ministry of Tourism & Antiquities (MoTA), the Department of Antiquities (DoA), the PAP, and the PDTRA. PNT is a member of P P 5900 Petra National Trust and the Challenge of Site Management at Petra the Advisory Committee of the PDTRA that oversees the management and developments within the PAP and its buffer areas. In its role as an advocate for the preservation of the park, PNT addresses the threats, partly natural and partly human, and alerts the governmental bodies responsible for the management of the site, UNESCO, and other international heritage organizations. In addition to its advocacy role, and with the support of private Jordanian and international corporations, government institutes, international diplomatic missions, and private donations, PNT has to date raised funds and implemented 22 projects in the areas of preservation, biodiversity, site management, community and awareness, and tourism. Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples Jordan has undertaken a number of measures to resolve the confusion in responsibilities and chain of command of the management of Petra, and in 2009 established PDTRA. PDTRA manages the entire Petra Region of 755 km2 including the PAP which covers a protected area of 264 km2. Historically, the PAP was managed by DoA, a subordinate department of MoTA. However, the management of the park now falls under the responsibility of the PAP management body, a subordinate organization that reports to PDTRA. PDTRA reports directly to the Prime Minister and is headed by a Chief Commissioner who is assisted by four deputy Commissioners. The deputy commissioners make up a council called “Commissioners Council” that manage the authority and oversee its affairs. PDTRA’s role is the development of the Petra Region economically, capitalizing on its potentials in tourism. It also plays a role in local community development, infrastructure development, heritage management, and the environment. Jurisdiction over archaeological research, conservation, restoration, and preservation, however, lies with DoA. Challenges and the Impact of Growth Site management has been a concern in Petra for at least the last four decades. In the beginning, tourism was minimal and, in general, limited to the most adventurous souls. The inscription of Petra on the UNESCO World Heritage List, however, rendered it incumbent on Jordan to protect and preserve it for the enjoyment, scholarship, and pride of future generations. Yet this sparked the surge in the number of visitors; from 93,000 visitors in 1985, it increased to almost a million in 2010. The sudden increase in numbers of visitors, spurred by the peace agreement with Israel in 1994, abruptly brought to the surface the issue of site management. This situation was compounded by the declaration of Petra as one of the “New 7 Wonders of the World” in 2007. DoA, whose primary concern had been archaeological research, found itself unprepared to effectively manage Petra. In recognition of the need to protect and preserve this outstanding example of national heritage, as well as the importance of the site for economic advancement, both the government and donor agencies invited international organizations to prepare management plans on five occasions. The first of these plans was prepared as early as 1968 and the latest in 2011. The plans assessed the state of conservation of the park and provided guidelines for the use, development, interpretation, presentation, zoning, protection, and general administration the park. There is a basic consensus among the plans on the type of management structures and interventions needed for Petra. The approach toward the implementation of the recommendations proposed, however, has been fragmented over the years. Instead of adopting a holistic approach to the recommendations delineated in the plan in their entirety, subprojects were selected for implementation, leading to the imbalance witnessed today. This is due to a number of reasons, which include inadequate participation by related organizations and stakeholders in the planning process resulting in a lack of commitment and follow-up, an insufficient understanding and appreciation of the site values and their potential that leads to an unbalanced approach to Petra National Trust and the Challenge of Site Management at Petra development, inexperience in the management of cultural heritage sites, and frequent changes in government management. The Role of NGOs in Site Management NGOs have been in existence in Jordan since 1966. The focus then was on natural heritage, and the first NGO established for this purpose was the Royal Society of Conservation (RSCN). It, in contrast to all other NGOs, owns and manages six natural parks successfully. Twenty-three years later, in 1989, the first national NGO, whose focal point was archaeological heritage preservation, was established as PNT. The Friends of Archaeology & Heritage (FOAH) was established in 1990 in Amman, and it focused on awareness and introducing Jordanian and non Jordanians to the archaeological heritage of the country. It, however, did not work in Petra Archaeological Park, PAP. The NGO “Bait alAnbat” based in the Liwa of Petra was established in 1997, and its focus is “the development of cultural life in Jordan, to raise awareness of cultural heritage and to develop improved dialogue among civilizations.” There are numerous other NGOs working in the field of socioeconomic development, education, special education, handicrafts, and others in Petra. With the exception of PNT, most of these NGOs work independently of the PDTRA and the PAP. Whereas, there is some recognition by the government for the need to explore innovative approaches to site management and to allow NGOs to participate; it has in effect been inconsistent in its approach. This, to a great extent, is due to the traditional centralized modus operandi of the government bureaucracy coupled with a lack of understanding of the role of NGOs in heritage management. The advocacy role of NGOs is perceived as threatening which exacerbates the situation further. A better understanding of the roles of each of these two stakeholders with the aim of achieving a more complementary partnership in the field of site management is the most effective way forward. NGOs, unlike the government, are in the unique position of being nonprofit and, therefore, not motivated by economic gain; at the same time, they are not overburdened by 5901 P bureaucracy, which gives them the ability to operate effectively. Conclusion and the Way Forward For Petra to be preserved, it must be understood in its totality. A clear-cut strategy for the conservation and management of the site must be developed. The impacts of management decisions on the site’s values must be clearly identified and appreciated by the decision makers and stakeholders working together as one team. Only in this way will viable site management plans that are relevant to local conditions be adhered to and implemented with success. Petra is a result of many layers of accumulated historical heritage that needs to be managed and presented in a manner that does not encourage further deterioration. Consolidation of the studies and their recommendations with emphasis on the values that set Petra apart from any other heritage site, using an integrated approach with the participation of those having a stake in Petra, is the shortest and most effective way to achieve this objective. Cross-References ▶ Akrawi, Aysar ▶ Living Communities: Local Communities in Site Management and Advocates for Site Preservation ▶ Petra, Archaeology of Further Reading AKRAWI, A. 2000. Petra, Jordan, in J.M. Teutonico & G. Palumbo (ed.) Management planning for archaeological sites: 98–112. Los Angeles: The Getty Conservation Institute and Loyola Marymount University. - 2003. NGO and government collaboration in archaeological site management: the case of Petra, Jordan, in A. Neville & B. Janet (ed.) Of the past, for the future: integrating archaeology and conservation: 29–34. Washington: The Getty Conservation Institute. - 2009. Issues at world heritage sites: Petra case study, in F. Al-Khraysheh (ed.) Studies in the history and archaeology of Jordan X: 53–59. Amman: Jordan Department of Antiquities. P P 5902 Petra, Archaeology of Thomas M. Urban1 and Christopher A. Tuttle2 1 Research Laboratory for Archaeology and the History of Art, University of Oxford, Oxford, Oxfordshire, UK 2 American Center of Oriental Research, Amman, Jordan Introduction The ancient city of Petra, in southwest Jordan, is among the most widely recognizable archaeological sites in the world. The city was inscribed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1985 and has more recently been popularly elected to a list of the “New Seven Wonders of the World”. Originally constructed by the Nabataeans in the late first millennium BCE and later annexed by the Roman Empire, this ancient trading hub features stunning monumental architecture, much of which is carved directly into the red sandstone cliffs for which the site is widely known. The architecture of Petra features a combination of local and classical forms (McKenzie 1990), many of the latter manifested as elaborately carved facades for cave structures in the cliffs that enclose the city. Such is the case for the numerous tombs found within the boundaries of the city, including the widely recognizable “Treasury” (Al Khazneh), which has been featured in several films including Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989). The city center also exhibits large freestanding structures, including a colonnaded street, temples, civic administration buildings, and a varied range of domestic structures. The rich religious life of Petra’s inhabitants is evident throughout the site. Numerous rock-cut shrines and thousands of relief steles (betyls), cultic niches, altars, and inscriptions can be seen carved in the cliff faces in the maze of mountains and valleys surrounding Petra (Wenning 2001, 2010). Petra is also known for an elaborate water Petra, Archaeology of management system that once sustained an estimated urban population of 20,000 or more. This system included numerous channels, dams, pipes, cisterns, and storage tanks, as well as pools and gardens (Bedal 2003; Ortloff 2005). Water management features such as dams and cisterns can be found not only within the city but throughout its hinterland as well. Petra may now be entered by two primary approaches. The Siq entrance to the east is taken by most visitors to the site and is by far the more dramatic of the two approaches. This passage through a long, narrow gorge (1.2 km in length and as narrow as 3 m in some areas) through the surrounding sandstone cliffs ends at the iconic Al Khazneh tomb (the “Treasury”) which boasts what is arguably the city’s most spectacular and well-preserved facade (Fig. 1). A less spectacular northern approach is today used primarily as a utility road. Historically the city was approached by a number of routes from the north and west, as well as from the south, via a main route that passed Jabal Haroun (Aaron’s Mountain). In addition to its Nabataean and Roman history (on which most historical and archaeological attention has been focused), the site also saw prehistoric and Iron Age occupations and boasts later activity by Christian and Muslim populations alike. The Byzantine period is well represented today by three churches in the city center and a monastery complex on Jabal Haroun (Fiema & Frösen 2008). These include the cathedral of the Petraean see, the bishop of which participated in a number of history’s important doctrinal councils (Fiema et al. 2001). Still later periods of occupation and use of the site are represented by two crusader castles, a Mamluk period weli(shrine) to the Prophet Aaron on Jabal Haroun, a late medieval/early modern Islamic village at Bayda, and traces of Ottoman period habitation in the ancient tomb complexes. The areas surrounding Petra also boast a much broader history with evidence of activity from three hominid species extending as far back as the Paleolithic, as well as Neolithic and Bronze Age settlements Petra, Archaeology of 5903 P Petra, Archaeology of, Fig. 1 At the end of the Siq visitors are greeted with a stunning view of the “treasury” (Al Khazneh) (Kirkbride 1968; Byrd & Field 1989; Lindner & Genz 2000; Lindner et al. 2001; Jansson 2002; Vella et al. 2012). Definition Petra refers to an archaeological site in southwest Jordan that consists of an ancient city and its hinterland. The Nabataean people utilized the Petra valley from at least the mid-first millennium BCE prior to the full sedentarization of their culture. The earliest constructions in what would become the city of Petra likely began in the mid- to late third century BCE as the Nabataeans gained increasing control of the overland trade routes between the Arabian peninsula and the Mediterranean Sea. Petra became an important hub for ancient trade under the Nabataeans and continued in this role after the Roman annexation in CE 106. With the eventual collapse of the ancient trade networks that once sustained Petra’s prosperity, the city became less prominent, and its character altered. Occupation at Petra continued following the Nabataean and Roman periods, including activity in the Byzantine and Islamic periods as well as a later Bedouin presence which lasted until quite recently. Archaeological evidence also suggests that prior to the monumentalization of Petra proper, human activity in the area extended well into prehistory. Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples Current Research and Future Directions Since its reidentification by Swiss explorer Johann Ludwig Burckhardt in 1812, Petra has been the subject of many archaeological investigations. Excavations began at the site in 1930 and continue today, but the types of archaeological research have become much more diverse, expanding to include landscape surveys, geophysical investigations, GIS mapping, laser and photogrammetric documentation methods, and the development of conservation and preservation intervention strategies to help protect this fragile site and its environment. Following are examples of some of the major academic research projects active at the site today. A number of interesting and important projects are affiliated with the Association for the Understanding of Ancient Cultures (AUAC), a nonprofit organization based in Basel, Switzerland. The International Umm al-Biyara Project, directed by Stephan G. Schmid (Humboldt University, Berlin) and Piotr Bienkowski (Manchester, U.K.), is a multidisciplinary exploration of the Nabataean monumental architectural remains on the summit of the flat-topped Umm al-Biyara mountain, which has sometimes been described as the “acropolis” of Petra. P P 5904 Several seasons of mapping and test excavations have demonstrated that these are possibly the remains of a royal or other elite complex situated to overlook the Petra city center. The International Aslah Project (IAP), directed by Robert Wenning (University of Münster) and Laurent Gorgerat (Antikenmuseum Basel und Sammlung Ludwig), is investigating one of the most important rock-cut cultic areas in Petra. The research area is focused around the monument known as the Aslah Triclinium, which contains what may be the oldest, dated Nabataean inscription known at present. Employing both survey and excavation methods, the project has yielded one of the best data sets yet available to help understand the role and functions of the many shrine installations found around the ancient city. The North-Eastern Petra Project (NEPP), directed by Stephan G. Schmid, Zbigniew T. Fiema, and Bernhard Kolb, is a landscape and architectural survey that began recently of an important but largely unexplored sector of the city center near the monument known as the “Palace Tomb.” This project is undertaking a detailed mapping of the freestanding architectural remains in the area, employs some geophysical investigations, and hopes to eventually excavate some of the features. Several projects are currently working to expand our understanding of the funerary landscape of Petra which, although seemingly apparent due to the prevalence of the tomb façades, actually remains quite obscure. Two projects directed by Lucy Wadeson (Oxford University) and affiliated with the AUAC, the International Khubtha Tombs Project (IKTP) and the Funerary Topography of Petra Project (FTPP), both seek to elucidate aspects of the funereal practices in the city. The IKTP is scientifically excavating the areas inside and outside selected tombs and the FTPP is investigating the possible functional relationships between these spaces. Another set of tomb excavations directed by Isabelle Sachet and Natalie Delhopital, in association with the mission archéologique français de Pétra (MAFP) of the Centre national de la recherche scientifique (CNRS), have yielded additional information about funerary spaces and, most Petra, Archaeology of importantly, uncovered some of the first stratified burial deposits to augment the limited data from previous excavations in disturbed tombs (Bikai & Perry 2001). The Petra Garden and Pool Complex (PGPC), directed by Leigh-Ann Bedal (Pennsylvania State University – The Behrend College, Erie, PA), has been investigating a unique set of water installations and gardens that are situated in the heart of the city center (Bedal 2003; Bedal et al. 2007). The results from this project have contributed to a better understanding of the central urban fabric of the city and raised intriguing questions about the possible symbolic roles played by the control and display of water in this arid landscape. Brown University in Providence, RI (USA), has sponsored two major field projects. The first is directed by Martha Sharp Joukowsky at the “Great Temple” complex in the city center (Joukowsky 1998, 2007). The second, the Brown University Petra Archaeological Project, directed by Susan E. Alcock and Christopher A. Tuttle, is aimed at gaining a diachronic understanding of the relationship of the city to its hinterland. This project is composed of several different components, including limited excavation and geophysical prospection in the city center itself. The bulk of this project’s activity, however, has focused on the site’s hinterland to the north, through a combination of highly intensive pedestrian survey, architectural recording and mapping, geophysics, and strategic excavation probes, as well as more extensive excavation at the Islamic village at Bayda. Results point to an enormously rich artifactual landscape and one much modified, over the millennia by human activity (Alcock & Knodell 2012). The major long-term project of the MAFP, directed by Christian Augé (CNRS), is the investigation of the “Qasr al-Bint,” a Nabataean temple in the city center, which is the only freestanding building to survive largely intact to the present day. This French project has produced the definitive architectural study of this important building and, through excavations in its precinct, has elucidated different aspects about the uses of civic cultic space in the city throughout different historical periods. Petra, Archaeology of The search for “Early Petra” is a major research initiative involving a number of different projects. These efforts are seeking evidence of the earliest Nabataean-constructed environment in the Petra valley, hints of which were first revealed by excavations in the 1950s (Parr 1957, 1960). The Hellenistic Petra Project, directed by David Graf (Miami University) and Stephan G. Schmid (Humboldt University, Berlin) has conducted several seasons of excavation in areas adjacent to Parr’s original trenches in order to verify and elucidate the original published data (Graf et al. 2005, 2007). Additional work on “Early Petra” has been undertaken as part of the MAFP, also in the vicinity of the Qasr al-Bint (Mouton et al. 2008). These projects have collectively now proven that there was a constructed environment in the mid- to late Hellenistic period in the Petra city center, although a complete understanding of the full nature and extent of these constructions still awaits additional research. Despite the nearly 200 years of documentation now completed in Petra, potential for future research in the archaeological park remains enormous. Technology has offered exciting ways to investigate Petra and further our understanding of this important site. The trend in archaeology toward nondestructive investigations has taken hold in the ancient city. For example, the use of geophysical and remote sensing techniques has already started to tell us more of what lies beneath the accumulations of time (Conyers et al. 2002; Urban et al. 2012). We can anticipate that through the judicious employment of both new and old methods, the wonders of Petra will continue to astound for many generations to come. Threats As with many World Heritage Sites, Petra’s popularity has been a mixed blessing, with tourists making substantial contributions to the host economy but also posing a serious threat to the preservation of the site (see Comer 2012). The sprawling site is difficult to police, and visitors routinely climb and walk on architectural features and remove artifacts as souvenirs. 5905 P The Bdoul Bedouin tribe that once resided inside Petra and many of its monuments was ejected in the 1980s as part of the process for establishing the World Heritage Site and associated park. Many were displaced to the nearby village of Umm Seyhoun. Many Bedouin now earn a living providing guide services and running small tourist shops in the city center. Others have found work with archaeological teams providing field assistance and logistical support to research at Petra. There also seems to be a general problem with looting, with artifacts spanning the full occupational history of the region readily available for sale to tourists at the shops. While necessary for sustaining the economic survival of the local Bedouin, these different types of engagements with the archaeological park also create threats to the site as the result of inadequate management and mitigation strategies. Efforts are presently underway to develop appropriate and sustainable strategies that will hopefully ameliorate some of these potential threats. In addition to human pressures, Petra also faces much natural erosion due to the action of wind and water. Recently, for example, a Byzantine church in Petra’s city center has sustained water damage to its floor mosaic (Fig. 2). Some of the most significant threats faced by Petra are those related to conserving and preserving the monuments carved and constructed from the fragile sandstone. All of the monuments are endangered through human and animal interactions, water, wind, solar radiation, and salt efflorescence from the building materials themselves. Neither a coherent conservation management plan nor a trained team of conservation technicians exist in the park to undertake sustainable preservation interventions. Despite these limitations, substantial progress in improving the situation has been made in the past several years. The UNESCO office in Amman, Jordan, in partnership with the Petra Development and Tourism Regional Authority (PDTRA) has recently completed the definitive GIS mapping of the Petra Archaeological Park boundaries, which encompass some 264 km2. This effort has P P 5906 Petra, Archaeology of Petra, Archaeology of, Fig. 2 The Byzantine Church in Petra’s city center exhibits spectacular floor mosaics which are presently threatened by water damage also produced a proposal for the creation of the associated buffer zone that is required for a World Heritage Site. The UNESCO team also pioneered a new methodology for risk mapping and categorizing, assessing, and prioritizing the various threats to the site. Several current projects are aimed at addressing the need for developing sustainable conservation capacity and practices. The Petra Archaeological Park is presently designing a conservation management plan that will define priorities and lay the foundation for establishing a set of policy and procedural standards. The Petra National Trust is undertaking the Wadi al-Jarra Dam Restoration Project that is working to rehabilitate ancient Nabataean water management installations to help control flood waters near the Al Khazneh monument. The American Center of Oriental Research (ACOR) is executing two major preservation projects, the Petra Church Maintenance and Restoration Project and the Temple of the Winged Lions Cultural Resource Management Initiative. Both of these projects are designed to implement urgent interventions to preserve the respective monuments but also involve technical capacity building in the local communities as a means of creating a trained workforce to facilitate making future conservation initiatives sustainable. Cross-References ▶ Joukowsky, Martha Sharp ▶ Petra National Trust and the Challenge of Site Management at Petra References ALCOCK, S.E. & A. KNODELL. 2012. Landscapes north of and nearby Petra: the Petra Area and Wadi Silaysil survey (Brown University Petra Archaeological Project, 2010-2011). Supplement to Proceedings of the Seminar for Arabian Studies 42: 5-16. BEDAL, L.-A. 2003. The Petra pool-complex. A Hellenistic paradeisos in the Nabataean capital. Piscataway (NJ): Gorgias Press. BEDAL, L.-A., K.L. GLEASON & J.G. SCHRYVER. 2007. The Petra garden and pool complex, 2003-2005. Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan 51: 151-76. BIKAI, P.M. & M. PERRY. 2001. Petra North Ridge Tombs 1 and 2: preliminary report. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 324: 59-79. COMER, D.C. (ed.). 2012. Tourism and archaeological heritage management at Petra: driver to development or destruction? New York: Springer. CONYERS, L.B., E.G. ERNENWEIN & L.-A. BEDAL. 2002. Ground penetrating radar discovery at Petra, Jordan. Antiquity 76: 339-40. FIEMA, Z.T., C. KANELLOPOULOS, T. WALISZEWSKI & R. SCHICK. 2001. The Petra church. Amman: American Center of Oriental Research. Petra, Archaeology of FIEMA, Z.T. & J. FRÖSEN. 2008. Petra – the Mountain of Aaron: the Finnish archaeological project in Jordan, Volume 1: the church and the chapel. Helsinki: Societas Scientiarum Fennica. GRAF, D.F., L.-A. BEDAL & S.G. SCHMID. 2005. The Hellenistic Petra project: excavations in the civic center, preliminary report of the first season, 2004. Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan 49: 417-41. GRAF, D.F., S.G. SCHMID & E. RONZA. 2007. The Hellenistic Petra project: excavations in the Qasr al-Bint Temenos Area: preliminary report of the second season, 2005. Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan 51: 223-38. KIRKBRIDE, D. 1968. Beidha: early Neolithic village life south of the Dead Sea. Antiquity 42: 263-74. LINDNER, M. & H. GENZ. 2000. Five early Bronze Age sites north of Petra (Jordan) discovered in 1993-1997, in H.D Bienert & B. Muller-Neuhof (ed.) At the crossroads: essays on the archaeology, history and current affairs of the Middle East: 47-85. Amman: German Protestant Institute of Archaeology in Amman. LINDNER, M., U. HUBNER & H. GENZ. 2001. Early Bronze Age settlement on Umm Saysaban north of Petra (Jordan) and its topographical context: report on the 1998/1999 survey. Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan 45: 287-310. MCKENZIE, J. 1990. The architecture of Petra. Reprinted 2005. Oxford: Oxford University Press. MOUTON, M., F. RENEL & A. KROPP. 2008. The Hellenistic levels under the Temenos of the Qasr al-Bint at Petra. Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan 52: 51-71. ORTLOFF, C.R. 2005. The water supply and distribution system of the Nabataean city of Petra (Jordan), 300 BC – AD 300. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 15: 93-109. PARR, P.J. 1957. Recent discoveries at Petra. Palestine Exploration Quarterly 89: 5-16. - 1960. Excavations at Petra, 1958-59. Palestine Exploration Quarterly 92: 124-35. URBAN T. M., S. ALCOCK & C. TUTTLE. 2012. Virtual discoveries at a wonder of the world: geophysical investigations and ancient plumbing at Petra, Jordan. Antiquity 85 (331). Available at: http://antiquity.ac.uk/ projgall/urban331/. VELLA, C., T. URBAN, E. BOCANCEA, C. TUTTLE & S. ALCOCK. 2012. Discovery and integrative documentation of early Bronze Age Jabal al-Qarn (Petra). Antiquity 86. WENNING, R. 2001. The betyls of Petra. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 324: 79-95. - 2010. The Petra Niches Project (PNP). Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan 54: 271-81. Further Reading AMERICAN CENTER OF ORIENTAL RESEARCH (ACOR). n.d. Available at: http://acorjordan.org. ASSOCIATION FOR THE UNDERSTANDING OF ANCIENT CULTURES (AUAC). n.d. Available at: http://auac.ch. 5907 P AUGÉ, C. & J.-M. DENTZER. 2000. Petra: lost city of the ancient world. New York: Abrams. BESSAC, J.-C. 2007. Le travail de la pierre à Pétra. Technique et économie de la taille rupestre. Paris: Éditions Recherche sur les Civilisations. BROWN UNIVERSITY PETRA ARCHAEOLOGICAL PROJECT (BUPAP). n.d. Available at: http://proteus.brown. edu/bupap/Home. BYRD, B.F. & J. FIELD. 1989. The Natufian encampment at Beidha: late Pleistocene adaptation in the southern Levant. Aarhus: Jutland Archaeological Society. CRAWFORD, G.A. 2003. Petra and the Nabataeans: a bibliography (ATLA Bibliography series 49). Lanham (MD): Scarecrow Press. JANSSON, J. 2002. From the Acheulean to Aretas: the Petra area in prehistoric times, in J. Frösén & Z. T. Fiema (ed.) Petra: a city forgotten and rediscovered: 33-43. Helsinki: Amos Anderson Art Museum. JOUKOWSKY, M.S. 1998. Petra Great Temple: Brown University excavations 1993-1997. Providence (RI): Brown University Petra Exploration Fund. - 2007. Petra Great Temple, Volume II: archaeological contexts of the remains and excavations. Providence (RI): Brown University Petra Exploration Fund. KANELLOPOULOS, C. 2004. The temples of Petra: an architectural analysis. Archäologischer Anzeiger 1: 221-39. MARKOE, G. (ed.). 2003. Petra rediscovered: the lost city of the Nabataeans. New York: Harry N. Abrams in association with the Cincinnati Art Museum. Petra: lost city of stone. n.d., American Museum of Natural History. Available at: www.amhn.org/exhibitions/ petra. PETRA NATIONAL TRUST. n.d. Available at: http:// petranationaltrust.org. POLITIS, K.D. (ed.). 2007. The world of the Nabataeans. Volume 2 of the International Conference on The World of the Herods and the Nabataeans held at the British Museum, 17-19 April 2001 (Oriens et Occidens 15). Stuttgart: Franz Steiner. RABABEH, S.M. 2005. How Petra was built: an analysis of the construction techniques of the Nabataean freestanding buildings and rock-cut monuments in Petra, Jordan (British Archaeological Reports International series 1460). Oxford: Archaeopress. ROCHE, M.-J. 2009. Pétra et les Nabatéens. Paris: Les Belles Lettres. SCHMID, S.G. 2000. The ‘Hellenistic’ tomb façades of Nabataean Petra and their cultural background. Graeco Arabica 7-8: 485-509. - 2001. The Nabataeans: travelers between lifestyles, in B. MacDonald, R. Adams & P. Bienkowski (ed.) The archaeology of Jordan (Levantine Archaeology 1): 367-426. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. TAYLOR, J. 2005. Petra and the lost kingdom of the Nabataeans. London: The Folio Society. WEBER, T. & R. WENNING (ed.). 1997. Petra: antike Felsstadt zwischen arabischer Tradition und griechischer Norm. Mainz am Rhein: P. von Zabern. P P 5908 Petrie, William Matthew Flinders Ella Stewart-Peters Flinders University, Adelaide, SA, Australia Basic Biographical Information William Matthew Flinders Petrie was born on 3 June 1853 in Kent, England. The only child of a middleclass Victorian family, his father was an inventor and surveyor, while his mother was the daughter of famed explorer and navigator, Matthew Flinders. After a severe childhood illness almost claimed his life, Petrie’s parents were advised to restrict his contact with other children to avoid any further risks to his health. As a result, Petrie never attended a formal school (Drower 1985: 15). Instead, his parents took him on many family holidays to measure and survey ancient British monuments. This provided Petrie with a solid foundation in surveying and recording techniques. At the age of 24, Petrie undertook his only formal education with a university extension course in algebra and trigonometry (Drower 1985: 18). In 1880, he began his survey of the pyramids at Giza in Egypt. For the next 44 years, Petrie continued his work in Egypt, accompanied by his wife Hilda, whom he had married in 1896. In 1923, Petrie was honored with a knighthood for his services to the field of archaeology. In 1927, he moved his excavation efforts across the Egyptian border into Palestine. He continued this work for a further 11 years. Flinders Petrie died in British Mandate of Palestine on 28 July 1942, at the age of 89. Major Accomplishments Flinders Petrie pioneered many revolutionary techniques in the field. He is often referred to as the “Father of British Egyptology” (Persson 2012: 9). Petrie’s exposure to rigorous surveying methods as a child is evident in his later career as an archaeologist. His first expedition to Egypt (1880) was to begin his detailed measurement and survey of the pyramids at Giza. At Tanis (1884), Petrie Petrie, William Matthew Flinders implemented his new, systematic approach to excavation. He instructed his team to excavate the site in a systematic fashion, focusing on the various layers within the site and their relationship to each other (Encyclopedia of World Biography 2004). This was an approach that was not utilized by other archaeologists at the time. Rather, Petrie’s contemporaries would extract the interesting or unique pieces that they found with no reference to the chronology of the site or the context of the find. Throughout his extensive career, Petrie discovered some extraordinary Egyptian artifacts, such as a collection of jewelry dating to the twelfth dynasty. However, Petrie also insisted on recording and excavating more mundane objects, particularly sherds of undecorated pottery, that were previously ignored in the search for rare and exotic artifacts. This practice allowed Petrie to develop the concept of “sequence dating,” a method also known as “seriation.” He further extended this by developing a “cross-dating” technique that facilitated the use of Egyptian artifacts to date strata at other sites outside of Egypt (The Columbia Encyclopedia 2012). Petrie’s greatest contributions to the discipline of archaeology were made in the field. As well as systematic excavation techniques and seriation, Petrie was known for his obsessive recording of detail, a practice that stemmed from his adherence to the concept of scientific observation. While his field methods were heralded as revolutionary for his time, Petrie’s theoretical interpretations of the results he obtained were (and in some cases, still are) considered to be highly controversial. His theories on the origins and development of the alphabet were strongly opposed by his contemporaries, while his connection to noted eugenicist Francis Galton has drawn criticism from subsequent generations of archaeologists (Encyclopedia of World Biography 2004; Sheppard 2010). In contrast to his expertise in excavation and classification, his survey techniques were considered by his peers to be rudimentary (Gardiner 1942: 204). Despite having had very little formal education, Petrie’s academic career was outstanding. In 1892, he was made the first Edwards Professor of Egyptology at University College Phenomenology in Archaeology London (UCL). He retained this position until 1933, and the Egyptian Archaeology Museum at UCL is named in his honor. Additionally, his career in the field was extensive. Beginning in 1875 in Britain, he began his work in Egypt in 1880. He continued there until 1924, and in 1927 he moved his excavations across the border in to Palestine. His work in Palestine continued until 1938, and he remained in the country until his death 4 years later. Obituaries and postmortem accounts of his life highlight a pioneer of modern, scientific archaeological methods (Gardiner 1942: 204; Wheeler 1953). 5909 P UPHILL, E.P. 1972. A bibliography of Sir William Matthew Flinders Petrie (1853-1942). Journal of Near Eastern Studies 31: 356-379. Phenomenology in Archaeology Ruth M. Van Dyke Department of Anthropology, Binghamton University, Binghamton, NY, USA Introduction Cross-References ▶ British Pioneers and Fieldwork Traditions ▶ Excavation Methods in Archaeology ▶ Stratigraphy in Archaeology: A Brief History References BRITISH MUSEUM. 2012. Naukratis: Greeks in Egypt. Available at: http://www.britishmuseum.org/research/ online_research_catalogues/ng/naukratis_greeks_in_egy pt/introduction/discovery_and_excavations.aspx (accessed 17 April 2013). THE COLUMBIA ENCYCLOPEDIA. 2012. Petrie, Sir William Matthew Flinders, 6th edn. Available at: http://www. encyclopedia.com (accessed 25 March 2013). DROWER, M.S. 1985. Flinders Petrie: a life in archaeology. London: Victor Gollancz Ltd. ENCYCLOPEDIA OF WORLD BIOGRAPHY. 2004. Sir William Matthew Flinders Petrie. Available at: http://www.encyclopedia.com/doc/IG2-3404705090.html (accessed 25 March 2013). GARDINER, A.H. 1942. Sir William Matthew Flinders Petrie, F.R.S., F.B.A. Nature 150: 204. PERSSON, H. 2012. Collecting Egypt. Journal of the History of Collections 24: 3-13. SHEPPARD, K.L. 2010. Flinders Petrie and eugenics at UCL. Bulletin of the History of Archaeology 20: 16-29. WHEELER, M. 1953. Adventure and Flinders Petrie. Antiquity 27: 87-93. Further Reading DROWER, M.S. (ed.) 2004. Letters from the desert: the correspondence of Flinders and Hilda Petrie. Oxford: Aris & Philips. PETRIE, W.M.F. 1932. Seventy years in archaeology. New York: H. Holt and Company. Phenomenology in archaeology refers to an interpretive method and associated theoretical stance developed by British post-processualists. Most phenomenological research focuses on investigations of past landscapes. Phenomenological archaeology draws its theoretical position and its inspiration from the existential philosophy of Edmund Husserl and Martin Heidegger. It is based on the assumption that there are universal similarities in human spatial perception. Because all human bodies share the same configuration, we can assume that all humans have generally similar spatial perceptions of such body-relevant experiences as directionality and scale. The human body organizes spatial experiences into up and down, front and back, and left and right. And, like us, past subjects constructed their spaces to create and reflect aspects of their habitus. If we accept these premises, then a phenomenological approach can give us insights into the ways in which prehistoric peoples experienced, perceived, and represented the spatial world. Phenomenological archaeologists work from the starting point of contemporary bodies in the same spaces, moving through ancient landscapes and architecture as prehistoric peoples did. Proponents assert that the judicious employment of phenomenological methods aids archaeological investigations of past meanings, worldviews, and emotions. Phenomenology helps humanize the past and has inspired new research into the senses and the body. Critics focus on empirical as well as epistemological P P 5910 issues, contending that phenomenological approaches do nothing to advance archaeological knowledge. The debate is itself a healthy development for the discipline. Historical Background Phenomenology in archaeology derives from phenomenology in existential philosophy. Gosden (1994), Casey (1996), and Thomas (1996) all provide good reviews of this intellectual history. Existential philosophy addresses the realism v. idealism conundrum that Western philosophers have pondered since Plato. Paradoxically, we know the world by separating ourselves from it, but at the same time, we can only understand ourselves in relation to the world. So, to what extent is the world “real,” and to what extent is it a construct of our consciousness? Rene Descartes’ (1641) solution was “I think, therefore I am.” Immanuel Kant (1781) distinguished between the “phenomenal” world, or the world as our consciousness apprehends it through the filters of our senses, and the “noumenal” world, or an objective reality that remains beyond the grasp of our imperfect bodies and minds. Following these thinkers and the work of the nineteenthcentury philosophers Søren Kierkegaard and Friedrich Nietzsche, existentialism posits that we bridge the distance between objective reality and our subjective consciousness through existence or daily experiences and participation in the world. Phenomenology – one branch of existentialism – emerged in the twentieth century through the works of Edmund Husserl (1931), Martin Heidegger (1927), and Maurice MerleauPonty (1962). Husserl argues that we know the world not through pondering it (à la Descartes) but rather through daily life, experience, and perception. Conscious, intentional, bodily engagement with the physical world is the starting point for all knowledge. Husserl is an idealist – for him, understanding the world hinges around these shared, conscious perceptions of experience. Heidegger, a student of Husserl, moved the conversation away from epistemology (the study of Phenomenology in Archaeology how we know what we know) towards ontology (the study of being or existence). Like Husserl, Heidegger sees the human body as the point of dialectical mediation between consciousness and the physical world, subject and object. However, for Heidegger, bodily experience takes precedence over ideals and intentions, because experience creates the context in which all else takes place. Existence involves a mesh of contingent relationships with other beings and objects in both a spatial and temporal dimension. Place has a critical part to play for Heidegger – all bodily experiences are spatially situated. This is explored in Heidegger’s concept of Dasein, translated as being-in-the-world or dwelling (see Thomas 1996 for a good discussion). Maurice Merleau-Ponty (1962) further elaborated upon these ideas, focusing on the intersections between the body, perception, consciousness, and place. Phenomenology resonates well with practice theory, as both are concerned with breaking down a subject/object or actor/structure dichotomy, refocusing attention on the ways in which understandings, meanings, and actions are mutually constitutive. Bourdieu’s concept of habitus has synergy with Heidegger’s Dasein, as meanings arise through lived, daily, bodily experiences. The hermeneutic or dialectical aspects of these approaches have common Marxian roots (see Gosden 1994: 113-122). Both phenomenology and practice theory contributed to the development of humanistic geography, with its focus on place and landscape (see Tuan 1974, 1977; Cosgrove 1984; Jackson 1984; Lefebvre 1991; Casey 1996, 1997, 2001; Soja 1996). Archaeological Cases Given this history, it should come as no surprise that existential philosophy, practice theory, and humanistic geography have contributed to the emergence of a landscape archaeology that sees place as a mutually constitutive part of the social and spiritual world rather than as a set of resources to be objectively exploited (see, e.g., Bender 1993; Bradley 1998; Ashmore & Knapp 1999). However, not all landscape archaeology is phenomenological nor is all phenomenological archaeology focused on landscape. Phenomenology in Archaeology All phenomenological archaeologists share the view that we make sense of the world by experiencing it. Some go further to contend that their own bodily perceptions can provide a means for learning about the past. By the early 1990s, British archaeologists began to explicitly explore the relevance of Heidegger’s phenomenology for archaeology (Ingold 1993; Gosden 1994; Tilley 1994; Thomas 1996). Tim Ingold (1993) starts from Heideggerian dwelling-in-the-world to build his concept of taskscape, which adds temporality and practice to the spatial study of landscape. Ingold points out that people are never disembodied, but move seamlessly through the world and through time. Meaning is created and sustained through crosscutting fields of relationships among people, objects, and places that gradually unfold. Tasks – the practical activities carried out by people on a daily basis – are the constitutive acts of dwelling. The taskscape, then, is an inherently social array of spatially and temporally related activities. Thomas (1996) employs Heidegger in a sophisticated critique of archaeological practices that are, he contends, mired in Descartian dichotomies. Archaeologists tend to objectify the material record as a target of study, or we try to read it as a text, but neither really works. We need to break down the false separation between human existence and the material. Dasein, or being-inthe-world, encourages us to think of objects, meanings, places, and people as continually, mutually constitutive, flowing into one another across time. Thomas illustrates the differences between phenomenological and objectifying approaches using three British Neolithic case studies, each at different scales. For example, objectifying approaches interpret a chambered tomb in Wales as a transcendental expression of structural meaning. From a dwelling perspective, by contrast, the chambered tomb is one in a chain of performative events linked with recent and older ideas and practices. In A Phenomenology of Landscape, Christopher Tilley (1994) set forth a program for phenomenological landscape archaeology that has inspired a host of emulators and has sparked 5911 P energetic critique. Archaeologists, Tilley argued, generally objectify landscapes, viewing places as empty, abstract containers for resources and actions. Tilley contrasted this “space as container” perspective with the human, bodily experience of places as meaningful, spiritual, temporal, and corporeal. He grounded his theoretical position in Heidegger’s concept of dwelling and then tied phenomenology into concurrent, overlapping development in practice theory, humanistic geography, and Native American cultural landscapes (see, e.g., Basso 1996; Cosgrove 1984). Following Merleau-Ponty and de Certeau, Tilley is interested in how people construct and experience places by moving through them; he defined landscape as relational places linked by paths. Tilley believes that archaeologists’ own bodily experiences as they walk through landscapes can be a source of information about the past. He expanded phenomenology from a philosophical framework for interpretation to a methodological approach. Tilley carried forward his ideas through a series of case studies. The second half of his 1994 book featured narratives about Tilley’s phenomenological perambulations through the British prehistoric countryside, conveyed through thick description and photographs. He focused on the viewsheds of high places and monuments and on the order in which places are experienced as a walker moves among them. He is also interested in the ways built places can evoke natural features and the ways in which topographies affect bodily experience (such as difficulties in climbing steep hills). Tilley followed A Phenomenology of Landscape with additional volumes (Tilley 2004, 2008, 2009) in which he further developed his philosophical position and presented additional case studies. In these works, Tilley moved beyond the British Isles to investigate Breton menhirs, Maltese temples, and Scandinavian rock art. He expanded his solitary musings to incorporate the observations of earlier researchers, and he argued for synesthesia, or the involvement of all the senses in bodily experiences. For example, on Malta, Tilley (2004) suggested particular limestones were associated with honey and the sweet smell P P 5912 of death, while other limestones were associated with ochre and the living. Tilley’s work has inspired a small but enthusiastic cadre of phenomenological practitioners in archaeology. Among the best known of these is the work of Vicky Cummings and colleagues on the megalithic landscapes of Neolithic Wales (Cummings et al. 2002; Cummings & Whittle 2004). Like Tilley, Cummings et al. adopted an explicitly phenomenological framework and focus on the role of vision in the perception of place. Cummings et al. conveyed the bodily, experiential qualities of Neolithic tombs and monuments using thick descriptions of the features in their topographic settings, supplemented by photographs. The authors wanted their observations to be replicable, and so they made considerable effort to systematically record their visual observations, drawing and photographing 360 panoramas around each monument, and employing GIS to explore viewsheds. Cummings et al. argued that Neolithic monuments in Wales both concealed and emphasized particular vistas and topographic features. Chamber tombs, for example, are situated at places where viewsheds change. Ultimately, the authors used their phenomenological observations to bolster structuralist interpretations. For example, they argued that chamber tombs spatially evoked a transition from symmetry to asymmetry and back to symmetry, mimicking three stages of a human body as a living entity, a decomposing corpse, and a set of skeletal remains. Similarly, Van Dyke (2007, 2011) conducted a phenomenological analysis of the monumental landscape of Chaco Canyon in the Southwest United States. Focusing on viewsheds and visibility, Van Dyke walked ancient routes into Chaco Canyon, using a video recorder, still photographs, and thick description to convey her bodily experiences. Van Dyke found a series of nested dualisms or oppositions illustrated by monumental architecture and by the placement of these buildings in dramatic topographic settings. She argued that Chacoan builders intentionally designed a spatial experience to legitimate their power for pilgrims to this “center Phenomenology in Archaeology place.” Van Dyke supported her essentially structuralist interpretations with indigenous Pueblo ethnography and ethnohistory. Hamilton and Whitehouse (2006) were among the first to move phenomenological work beyond visual perception and monumental architecture. They investigated Neolithic sites identifiable as artifact scatters in plowed fields in northeast Italy. Hamilton and Whitehouse incorporated sound, smell, and gendered bodily differences into their research. They worked to develop explicit, replicable phenomenological methods. Like Cummings and her colleagues, they drew 360 panoramas from the center of each site, recording near and distant landmarks and horizons. Hamilton, Whitehouse, and their team systematically walked out and back from sites over set periods of time, periodically recording observations. They conducted experiments to identify distances for different kinds of intervisible interactions (e.g., signaling v. presence of a human form) and vocal interactions (normal speech v. shouting). Hamilton and Whitehouse noted gendered differences along all of these dimensions. Their work is a significant contribution towards a phenomenological methodology. Current Debates Human beings do not experience spaces as abstract, empty containers. Phenomenology in archaeology arose as one way to transcend the sterile, objectifying, treatment of landscapes in more traditional methods such as settlement pattern analysis or catchment analysis. Advocates contend that phenomenological approaches help archaeologists to think about past peoples’ meaningful, memory-laden, emotional, sensory, and metaphorical connections with their surroundings. For archaeologists using practice theory, in which people and their worlds are mutually, continually engaged, phenomenology provides a method for investigating those reflexive constructions. Nonetheless, the critics of phenomenology in archaeology are many and vocal. Major appraisals to date include Joanna Brück’s (2005) Phenomenology in Archaeology measured assessment, Andrew Fleming’s (1999, 2005, 2006) scathing dismissals, and John Barrett and Ihlong Ko’s (2009) philosophical analysis. Criticisms may be roughly grouped into two categories – those that focus on faulty or incomplete methods and analyses and those that revolve around larger questions of ontology and epistemology. In the first set of criticisms, scholars have argued that phenomenological archaeology lacks replicability and methodological rigor, fails to contend with past/present environmental differences, ascribes a monolithic universality to bodily experience, fails to acknowledge that experience is culturally constructed, privileges the visual, and emphasizes description at the expense of power relations. In the second group of criticisms, scholars have pointed out that phenomenological archaeology has a tendency to devolve into structuralism, represents a misuse of Heidegger (who was, furthermore, a Nazi sympathizer), conflates association and causation, and lacks epistemological legitimacy. Many of these critical points – particularly those in the first batch – have merit and should lead phenomenological archaeologists towards stronger interpretations. Other criticisms – particularly those in the second group – are grounded in fundamental epistemological differences among researchers and, thus, are unlikely to be resolved. Faulty or Incomplete Methods and Analyses Phenomenological interpretations originate with the subjective experience of the researcher. The researcher’s bodily experience is meant to provide her with insight into the intentions of past builders. But in order for a credible body of knowledge to be constructed, the subjective researcher’s bodily experience should be replicable by others. Fleming revisited some of Cummings and Whittle’s megalithic sites and did not see what they saw, leading him to conclude that phenomenology does not constitute a legitimate epistemological method. Rather, Fleming argues that phenomenologists produce nothing more than the researchers’ own contemporary, romantic perceptions of contemporary 5913 P landscapes. Hamilton and Whitehouse concurred with Fleming that phenomenology needs replicability and methodological rigor. They developed a set of standardized forms for researchers to use in recording phenomenological observations, and they carried out work in teams rather than as solitary walkers. Clearly, the archaeological landscapes of today are not identical to the cultural landscapes of the past, even when there is relatively good architectural preservation. Phenomenologists should take into account changes in vegetation, weather, seasons, and architecture. Nonetheless, past landscapes no longer exist – contemporary landscapes can only provide researchers with partial, distorted experiences. Just as the landscape is not constant, neither is the human body. Phenomenology proceeds from the assumption that bodily experiences of landscape are to some extent universal, but bodily experiences surely would have been dissimilar for individuals of different ages, genders, and social standings. Hamilton and Whitehouse engaged with this point through their work on Neolithic ditched enclosures in Italy. Rather than assuming a universal (and by default, male) human body, they explicitly incorporated and recorded gendered differences in bodily movement and perception. But even if bodies, topographies, and features could be held constant, spatial experiences are – as Bourdieu has taught us – culturally constructed. Although human bodily configurations are to some extent always shared, past sensual perceptions were culturally situated and might be quite different from our own. For example, phenomenological accounts are often written from the perspective of the solitary walker encountering the past for the first time – but past meanings were created and negotiated by people as participants in social worlds engaged in repeated, multiple encounters with places. Although phenomenologists claim to engage with bodily experience, in practice their work has focused almost exclusively on the sense of vision, revolving around intervisibilities among monuments, or shifting visual perceptions along routes P P 5914 of movement. This is shifting somewhat – Tilley’s more recent work incorporates smell and touch. Hamilton and Whitehouse carried out a series of acoustic experiments using different sounds and less systematically noted the presence of various smells. New work in sensory archaeology (e.g., Hamilakis et al. 2002; Day 2013) moves well beyond the visual, monumental landscapes favored in early case studies. Phenomenological explanations essentialize description to the detriment of explanation, privileging the sensory over the political (Smith 2003: 67-68). Phenomenologists often argue that buildings or landscape elements represent certain ideas, for example, but fail to give their attention to the social and political processes through which these symbols were negotiated. Although power may be an underdeveloped dimension of some phenomenological studies, researchers are well aware that spaces are political (e.g., Tilley 1994: 20-21). Van Dyke, for example, explicitly argued that spatial experiences on the Chacoan landscape were meant to legitimate the power of ritual elites. Finally, critics contend that phenomenologists lack the means to distinguish between association and causation. Phenomenologists may observe sensory regularities (such as intervisibility with a particular mountain peak), and those observations may be replicable, but this association does not demonstrate that the regularities were meaningful to ancient people. Mountain peaks are tall and are visible from many places. This methodological problem is closely tied with a larger, epistemological issue. Ontological and Epistemological Objections The descriptive cast of many phenomenological interpretations emerges from a latent structuralism common to most analyses, including those of Tilley, Cummings, and Van Dyke. Fleming considers that the ancient dualisms identified by phenomenologists are created by the scholars’ own modernist worldviews. But even if past peoples did situate architecture to embody structural dualisms, to what extent were these Phenomenology in Archaeology meaningful? Were they intentional? Is a transcendental, abstract, structuralist perspective at odds with a philosophy that posits meaning as created through immediate, participatory, bodily experiences? At the crux of this group of criticisms are fundamental anthropological and philosophical questions about the nature of social meaning and the construction of knowledge. One question has to do with Heidegger’s politics. Heidegger was a member of the Nazi party from 1933 to 1945. For many scholars, this does not detract from the power of his ideas, whereas for others, it is a damning indictment that renders his work ethically unpalatable. Some archaeologists contend that because a scholar’s ideology is not separable from his/her thoughts and writings, Heidegger’s work is not separable from the fascist ideals he believed in. However, the phenomenological issues Heidegger investigated are part of a philosophical tradition that transcends Nazism. Husserl – his mentor and a major phenomenological philosopher – was, in fact, a Jew by birth, who lost his academic position under the Nazi regime. Barrett and Ko’s (2009) address another problem with archaeologists using Heidegger. Barrett and Ko contend that phenomenological archaeologists have misread the philosopher and would do better to ground their work in Husserl. Their argument may be summarized as follows. For Heidegger, human understanding of the world arises through subjective, experiential encounters, or zuhanden. Humans can also construct knowledge through vorhanden, or intentional, objectifying inspection, but zuhanden creates the context of knowledge and thus must come first. Husserl, by contrast, contends that humans must detach from the world in order to learn about it. Husserlian phenomenology emphasizes conscious and intentional experience. Barrett and Ko (2009) point out that British phenomenologists assume an ahistorical, transcendental vantage point. They treat the knowing subject as conscious and objectifying, thereby privileging vorhanden rather than zuhanden. Thus, phenomenology as practiced by such scholars as Tilley, Phenomenology in Archaeology Cummings, and Whittle is really Husserlian rather than Heideggerian. Barrett and Ko argue that Tilley, Cummings, and Whittle’s works contain unstated, problematic premises about ancient builders’ intentions. Phenomenological archaeologists have assumed that human action is goal oriented and that monument builders sought to ensure certain visual consequences. Thus, the archaeologists believe the monuments allow them to access the builders’ motivations. However, for Heidegger, landscapes and monuments do not inscribe a cultural order – rather, dwelling is an act of engagement with the world, and order is emergent. Top-down structural analyses would appear to be at odds with Dasein. So, are contemporary archaeologists’ experiences a legitimate source for interpretations about the past? Barrett and Ko argue that they cannot be, unless we invoke the transcendental universals that are anathema to a Heideggerian phenomenology. Barrett and Ko are correct that analyses that offer nothing more than structuralist descriptions are incomplete and more Husserlian than Heideggerian. But this does not negate the value of phenomenological studies for identifying sensory patterns in the material world. This criticism is really a restatement of a fundamental anthropological question about the relationship of agency and structure. Barrett and Ko conflate the identification of transcendental patterns with the investigation of a deeper question – to what extent are these patterns intentionally constructed, agendadriven order, and to what extent are they emergent, nondiscursive properties? The relationship between agency and structure is important for understanding ancient political and social order. But before archaeologists can interpret past social worlds, they must first identify patterns that allow them to build interpretations. Phenomenological archaeology provides one means for identifying sensory patterns that may be both discursive and nondiscursive in origin. Those researchers who do not consider interpretive approaches as valid pathways to 5915 P archaeological knowledge see phenomenology as at best naı̈ve, at worst a threat to archaeological authority. For archaeologists such as Tilley who consider the past to be constructed within a political present, this is less of an issue. All we have, ultimately, is our own culturally situated understandings of the past – we cannot “access” the “true” past. However, this position threatens the authority of archaeologists as singular arbiters of knowledge about the past, leading some to consider phenomenology as quite dangerous (witness the vitriol in Fleming’s attacks). The crux of the dispute is epistemological – what are the acceptable avenues by which we can construct knowledge? Philosophers have been struggling with this question from Plato and Aristotle onwards, so it is unlikely that archaeologists will resolve it any time soon. Future Directions The full potential of phenomenology in archaeology has yet to be realized. The introduction of explicitly phenomenological approaches in archaeology is giving rise to several positive developments. In general, there is more of a concern with visual perception and meaning than there has been in the past. Archaeologists are likely to think about lines of visibility from shrines on high places to dramatic, distant peaks, and they are likely to ask questions about whether these connections could have been meaningful in the past (e.g., Boivin 2004). Following Hamilton and Whitehouse, archaeologists are more aware of gendered and other bodily differences in spatial experience, and they are likely to think about how bodies experience movement across different kinds of topographies (e.g., Scarre 2002). They are conducting systematic experiments to assess differences in movement, sound, or sight across landscape. Increased methodological rigor should help to bolster the perceived legitimacy of phenomenological approaches in the eyes of some critics. These explorations are connected to a burgeoning interest in sensory and haptic P P 5916 archaeologies concerned not just with the visual but also with sound, touch, taste, and smell (see, e.g., Gosden 2001; Watson & Keating 1999; Hamilakis et al. 2002; Day 2013). Finally, a great value of phenomenological archaeology is that it challenges scholars of all theoretical persuasions to engage with deeper ontological and epistemological questions. Cross-References ▶ Landscape Archaeology ▶ Post-Processual Archaeology ▶ Practice Theory in Archaeology References BARRETT, J. C. & I. KO. 2009. A phenomenology of landscape: a crisis in British landscape archaeology? Journal of Social Archaeology 9(3): 275-294. BENDER, B. (ed.) 1993. Landscape: politics and perspectives. Oxford and New York: Berg. BRÜCK, J. 2005. Experiencing the past: the development of a phenomenological archaeology in British prehistory. Archaeological Dialogues 12(1): 45–72. CASEY, E. S. 1996. How to get from space to place in a fairly short stretch of time: phenomenological prolegomena, in S. Feld & K. H. Basso (ed.) Senses of place: 13-52. Santa Fe: School of American Research Press. CUMMINGS, V., A. JONES & A. WATSON. 2002. Divided places: phenomenology and asymmetry in the monuments of the Black Mountains, Southeast Wales. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 12(1): 57-70. CUMMINGS, V. & A. WHITTLE. 2004. Places of special virtue: megaliths in the Neolithic landscapes of Wales. Oxford: Oxbow. DAY, J. (ed.) 2013. Making senses of the past: toward a sensory archaeology. Carbondale (IL): Center for Archaeological Investigations, Southern Illinois University. FLEMING, A. 1999. Phenomenology and the megaliths of Wales: a dreaming too far? Oxford Journal of Archaeology 18: 119–25. - 2005. Megaliths and post-modernism: the case of Wales. Antiquity 79(4): 921-932. - 2006. Post-processual landscape archaeology: a critique. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 16(3): 267-280. GOSDEN, C. 1994. Social being and time. Oxford: Blackwell. Phenomenology in Archaeology HAMILTON, S. & R. WHITEHOUSE. 2006. Phenomenology in practice: towards a methodology for a “subjective” approach. European Journal of Archaeology 9(1): 31–71. HEIDEGGER, M. 1962 (1927). Being and time. Translated by J. Macquarrie and E. Robinson. Oxford: Blackwell. HUSSERL, E. 1960 (1931). Cartesian meditations: an introduction to phenomenology. Translated by D. Cairns. Boston: Kluwer. INGOLD, T. 1993. The temporality of the landscape. World Archaeology 25(2): 152-174. MERLEAU-PONTY, M. 1981 (1962). Phenomenology of perception. Translated by C. Smith. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. SMITH, A. T. 2003. The political landscape: constellations of authority in early complex polities. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. THOMAS, J. 1996. Time, culture, and identity. London: Routledge. TILLEY, C. 1994. A phenomenology of landscape. Oxford & Providence: Berg. - 2004. The materiality of stone: explorations in landscape phenomenology. Oxford & Providence: Berg. VAN DYKE, R. M. 2007. The Chaco experience: landscape and ideology at the center place. Santa Fe: School for Advanced Research Press. - 2011. Materialities of place: ideology on the Chacoan landscape, in W.H. Walker & K. Venzor (ed.) Contemporary archaeologies of the Southwest: 13-48. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. WATSON, A. & D. KEATING. 1999. Architecture and sound: an acoustic analysis of megalithic monuments in prehistoric Britain. Antiquity 73: 325-336. Further Reading ASHMORE, W. & B. KNAPP. (ed.) 1999. Archaeologies of landscape. Oxford and Malden (MA): Blackwell. BASSO, K. H. 1996. Wisdom sits in places: landscape and language among the Western Apache. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. BRADLEY, R. 1998. The significance of monuments. London and New York: Routledge. BOIVIN, N. 2004. Landscape and cosmology in the South Indian Neolithic: new perspectives on the Deccan Ashmounds. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 14(2): 235-257. CASEY, E. S. 1997. The fate of place: a philosophical history. Berkeley: University of California Press. - 2001. Between geography and philosophy: what does it mean to be in the place-world? Annals of the Association of American Geographers 91(4): 683-693. COSGROVE, D. 1984. Social formation and symbolic landscape. Totowa (NJ): Barnes and Noble. DE CERTEAU, M. 1984. The practice of everyday life. Translated by S. Rendall. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. GOSDEN, C. 2001. Making sense: archaeology and aesthetics. World Archaeology 33(2): 162-167. Phillips Spring: Agriculture and Domestication HAMILAKIS, Y., M. PLUCIENNIK & S. TARLOW. (ed.) 2002. Thinking through the body: archaeologies of corporeality. New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum Press. JACKSON, J. B. 1984. Discovering the vernacular landscape. New Haven: Yale University Press. LEFBEVRE, H. 1991. The production of space. Translated by D. Nicholson-Smith. Cambridge (MA): Basil Blackwell. SCARRE, C. 2002. Coast and cosmos: the Neolithic monuments of northern Brittany, in C. Scarre (ed.) Monuments and landscape in Atlantic Europe: 84-102. London and New York: Routledge. SOJA, E. W. 1996. Thirdspace. Oxford: Blackwell. THOMAS, J. 2004. Archaeology and modernity. London: Routledge. TILLEY, C. 2008. Body and image: explorations in landscape phenomenology 2. Walnut Creek (CA): Left Coast Press. - 2009. Interpreting landscapes: geologies, topographies, identities: explorations in landscape archaeology 3. Walnut Creek (CA): Left Coast Press. TUAN, Y.-F. 1974. Topophilia. New Jersey: Prentice-Hall. - 1977. Space and place: the perspective of experience. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. VAN DYKE, R. M. 2008. Visual perception in Chaco Canyon, New Mexico: some phenomenological observations, in V. O. Jorge & J. Thomas (ed.) Archaeology and the politics of vision in a post-modern context: 278-291. Cambridge: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Phillips Spring: Agriculture and Domestication Marvin Kay Department of Anthropology, University of Arkansas, Fayetteville, AR, USA Basic Site Overview The Phillips Spring site (23HI216), discovered in 1973, is within the Pomme de Terre River valley in northern Hickory County, Missouri. The drainage is part of the larger middle Osage River basin that empties into the Missouri River. The Pomme de Terre is familiar to Quaternary specialists as the location of Albert C. Koch’s 1840 excavation of the American mastodon and its claimed association with artifacts. More recent investigations, 5917 P beginning in the mid-1960s, have reevaluated Koch’s find as well as examined deeply buried, multilayered sites, among them Rodgers Shelter and Phillips Spring. Systematic excavations of Phillips Spring, an active artesian spring, began in 1974 and continued in the years 1976–1978. The initial investigation was an attempt to locate another late Pleistocene (c. 40,000–10,000 years BP) or Holocene (since c. 8050 BCE or 10,000 BP) palynological record that might coincide with the prehistoric habitations in the valley and to provide direct evidence of middle Holocene environmental and climatic conditions in the western Ozark Highland. Ultimately, these goals were largely satisfied. Along the way, even more impressive discoveries were made, including that of potential ancient cultigens (Cucurbita pepo [pepo “squash”] and Lagenaria siceraria [bottle gourd]). The unimpeachable, deeply stratified contexts of these discoveries at Phillips Spring extended the record of plant husbandry for the Archaic of the Eastern Woodlands of North America to a date earlier than 2250 BCE (4200 years BP). One pepo seed fragment came from alluvium dating about 7,000 radiocarbon years ago (5050 BCE); however, the earliest pepo and bottle gourd seed and rind concentration is younger and dates in radiocarbon years from 3050 BCE to 2250 BCE (5000–4200 BP). These discoveries were a catalyst in reformulations of the Archaic as a period of dynamic adaptation and experimentation with both exotic and local plant resources. Phillips Spring is a deep, finely stratified archaeological site with exceptional preservation of normally perishable, uncarbonized plant remains. Under these sediments is an equally important, older alluvial record for the late Pleistocene and early Holocene that contains scattered pollen layers. Its remarkable organic preservation stems from the anaerobic environment created by the spring itself. The site contains the bestdefined, radiocarbon dated sequence of Holocene alluvial cut and fills in the valley. Just above bedrock is a Late Wisconsin Boreal Forest assemblage dominated by jack pine that dates to c. 25,350 BP (23,400 BCE). Unlike other artesian P P 5918 springs in the valley, Phillips does not contain a Pleistocene bone bed. Evidence of Early Agriculture The archaeology of Phillips Spring is dominated by Late Archaic Sedalia phase (c. 2550–650 BCE, or 4500–2600 years BP) encampments that probably represent base camps. Subterranean food-storage facilities were dug, and large oval basins were used as steaming pits for communal cooking. The most common food species represented are pepo and the exotic tropical cultigen, bottle gourd, plus native plants among which walnut, hickory, and oak acorns figure prominently. Most of these species would have been grown, collected, and stored during the summer and into the fall. Seed and rind morphology of pepo and bottle gourd suggests their growing may have been for their seeds, for containers, or both. Storage pit construction and use was mainly a summer-fall operation, which could well have continued into the winter or early spring. Adzes dominate the tool assemblage, but simple groundstone tools and a variety of hafted chipped-stone points are present, too. The adzes have been referred to as “Sedalia diggers,” but they are clearly heavy duty woodworking tools. At least one broken Nebo Hill lanceolate of seemingly nonlocal material (presumably from the Nebo Hill region around Kansas City, Missouri) was found along with an occasional wooden tool. Subsequent habitations include Middle and Late Woodland encampments that generally have larger-sized storage pits containing the same suite of plant foods as for the Sedalia phase; one welldefined oval house and a distinctively local, hematite-tempered ceramic are present. The Phillips Spring site is now beneath the waters of Harry S. Truman Lake, a federal impoundment. Cross-References ▶ Agrarian Landscapes: Environmental Archaeological Studies Phillips Spring: Agriculture and Domestication ▶ Agriculture: Definition and Overview ▶ Anaerobic Conditions (Bogs, Waterlogged, Subaquatic): Preservation and Conservation ▶ Archaeobotany ▶ Archaeobotany of Early Agriculture: Macrobotany ▶ Eastern North America: An Independent Center of Agricultural Origins ▶ Geoarchaeology ▶ Squash: Origins and Development Further Reading CHOMKO, S. A. & G. W. CRAWFORD. 1978. Plant husbandry in prehistoric eastern NorthAmerica: new evidence for its development. American Antiquity 43: 405-408. HAYNES, C. V., JR. 1985. Mastodon-bearing springs and late quaternary geochronology of the Lower Pomme de Terre Valley, Missouri (Geological Society of America Special Paper 204). Boulder: Geological Society of America. KAY, M. 1983. Archaic period research in the western Ozark Highland, Missouri, in J. L. Phillips & J. A. Brown (ed.) Archaic hunters and gatherers in the American Midwest: 41-70. New York: Academic Press. - 1986. Phillips Spring: a synopsis of Sedalia Phase settlement and subsistence, in S. W. Neusius (ed.) Foraging, collecting, and harvesting: archaic period subsistence and settlement in the eastern woodlands: 275-288 (Center for Archaeological Investigations Occasional Paper 6). Carbonadale: Center for Archaeological Investigations, Southern Illinois University. KAY, M., F. B. KING & C. K. ROBINSON. 1980. Cucurbits from Phillips Spring: new evidence and interpretations. American Antiquity 45: 806-822. KING, F. B. 1985. Early cultivated cucurbits in eastern North America, in R. I. Ford (ed.) Prehistoric food production in North America (Anthropological Paper 75): 73-98. Ann Arbor: Museum of Anthropology, University of Michigan. MONAGHAN, G. W., W. A. LOVIS, K. C. EGAN-BRUHY. 2006. Earliest Cucurbita from the Great Lakes, northern USA. Quaternary Research 65: 216–222. SMITH, B. D. 1992. Rivers of change: essays on early agriculture in eastern North America. Washington (DC) : Smithsonian Institution Press. Phon, Kaseka Phon, Kaseka Kaseka Phon Archaeology Department, Institute of Culture and Fine Arts, Royal Academy of Cambodia, Phnom Penh, Cambodia Basic Biographical Information Kaseka Phon graduated from the Faculty of Archaeology, Royal University of Fine Arts in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, in 2000. He is currently Director of the Archaeology Department at the Royal Academy of Cambodia, as well as a Ph.D. candidate at the same institution. Major Accomplishments He has extensive archaeological research experience across Cambodia. His research on the Cheung Ek archaeological site began in 2002. In 2002 he worked on “The East Cambodia Archaeological Survey” organized by the NAGA Research Group. In 2003–2004, he worked at the site of Phnom Borei, Takeo province, exploring its relationship with the nearby site of Angkor Borei. In 2004–2005, he began site survey and mapping at Cheung Ek with support from the NAGA Research Group. In 2005–2006, he worked on a site-mapping project in Ang Snoul district. Fieldwork at Cheung Ek continued in 2007 with a project of archaeological investigation and CRM supported financially by the US Embassy. In 2007, he conducted survey and mapping in Baray district, Kampong Thom province, as well as directing the Sre Ampil Archaeological and Conservation Project supported by the Center for Khmer Studies (CKS). In 2008, this project was expanded into a theoretical and practical training workshop in order to develop a coherent research and teaching program in the field of archaeology at the site of Sre Ampil. 5919 P The CKS Junior Faculty Training Program (JFTP) as well as the Scaler Foundation and the Rockefeller Foundation jointly funded the project. In 2009, he trained site guardians at Prasat Banteay Chmar in a project funded by the Friends of Khmer Culture. That same year, he participated in the Industries of Angkor Project (INDAP), directed by Dr. Mitch Hendrickson at Preah Khan of Kompong Svay, Preah Vihear province. In 2011 and 2012, Kaseka Phon directed two projects supported by the Royal Academy of Cambodia. The first involved site survey and mapping in Trapeang Prasat district, Udor Mean Chey province. The second project involved survey and mapping of Buddhist Vihara Mounds at Udong and Lovek Cities. Most recently, he has returned to do fieldwork at the site of Cheung Ek, examining ceramics kilns and temple foundations in this area, as well as creating a ceramic typology. To date (August 2012), 61 pottery kilns and 11 temple foundations have been recorded. The survey and upcoming excavation is supported by the Friends of Khmer Culture. He also has been involved in many translation projects including Early Cultures of Mainland Southeast Asia by Dr. Charles Higham (funded by the Luce Foundation), a guidebook entitled Guidelines for Stone Conservation and Preservation in Angkor (funded by German Apsara Conservation Project) and Archaeometallurgy (funded by the Center for Khmer Studies). Cross-References ▶ Cambodia: Cultural Heritage Management ▶ Post-Khmer Rouge Cambodia, Archaeology in Further Reading COE, M.D. 2003. Angkor and the Khmer civilization. New York: Thames and Hudson. HIGHAM, C. 2001. The civilization of Angkor. Berkeley: University of California Press. P P 5920 Phytolith Studies in Archaeology Philippa Ryan Department of Conservation and Scientific Research, The British Museum, London, UK Introduction Phytolith analysis is a micro-botanical technique used in archaeology to study ancient plant remains. Phytoliths are opaline silica bodies formed during the lifetime of a wide variety of plant taxa within and between certain cells. These micro-remains can provide insight into ancient diet, the non-food uses of plants (such as for fuel or weaving), spatial arrangements of plant use and discard across settlements, agricultural practices, and seasonality of pre-agrarian site occupations. The durability of these microremains makes them particularly valuable at archaeological sites where preservation conditions are not suited to the survival of charred, desiccated, or waterlogged macro-remains. Phytoliths provide both complementary and unique information about plant use at sites where charred macrobotanical remains (cereals, seeds) are present since these datasets preserve information about different suites of plant parts and enter the archaeological record through different taphonomic routes. Outside the field of archaeology, phytoliths from soils and sediments are frequently used to reconstruct vegetation and climate histories. Definition The term phytolith derives from the Greek for plant “phyton” and stone “lithos.” The term phytolith is most commonly used to discuss silica particles within plants, especially within archaeological studies, but does also refer to other types of mineral deposits. Only silica particles are discussed here. Phytoliths are formed when monosilicic acid (H4SiO4), present within groundwater, is taken up by various plant Phytolith Studies in Archaeology families and deposited as opaline silica within or between certain plant cells. Phytoliths are generally silt sized and have a refractive index of 1.41–1.47 and a specific gravity between 1.5 and 2.3. These microfossils are formed in different plant parts, depending on the taxa and most commonly within epidermal cells of aerial structures (such as leaves, stems, seed bracts, and fruit rinds) but also sometimes within wood, mesophyll, and roots. Silica deposition can be both actively controlled by plants through physiological and genetic mechanisms and in relation to specific cells, and passive potentially leading to silicification of a more variable range of cells and areas of plant tissue. For example, the production of grass “short cells” (rondels, saddles, bilobes, and crosses) is considered to be genetically controlled (Fig. 1 ), but levels of phytolith production and the range of silicified cells can be enhanced by environmental conditions that influence water uptake and soluble silica levels in groundwater (Mithen et al. 2008; Madella et al. 2009). Areas of epidermal tissue can become silicified, and these conjoined phytoliths are commonly referred to as silica skeletons (Fig. 1) (Rosen 1992). Sometimes, silica skeletons can be macroscopically visible; at Çatalhöyük, evidence for basketry and brick temper survives as whitish traces of whole plant parts (Ryan 2011). Historical Background Phytolith research emerged in the early nineteenth century, and there are several distinct periods of phytolith research (Piperno 2006). In the 1830s, Christian Gottfried Ehrenberg coined the term “phytolitharia” and famously recognized these fossilized plant cells in dust samples collected by Darwin on the HMS Beagle voyage. From the end of the nineteenth century through to the mid-1930s, a phase of botanical studies was centered around Germany, and also during this time frame, cereal phytoliths were first recognized at archaeological sites. A broader range of botanical and ecological studies, including paleobotanical research, began from the 1950s, and in 1971, Irwin Rovner published a key article about Phytolith Studies in Archaeology 5921 P Phytolith Studies in Archaeology, Fig. 1 Silica skeleton from Triticum dicoccoides leaf (wild emmer wheat), including rondel phytoliths (A); scale bar, 100 mm (Image: PL Ryan; copyright Trustees of the British Museum) the use of phytoliths in paleobotanical studies (Rovner 1971). From the end of the 1970s, large-scale research projects began to investigate vegetation histories and prehistoric plant use in the New World lowland tropical forest, as well as elsewhere in the Americas (Piperno 2009). Dolores Piperno (1988) published the first major book dedicated to phytolith research. Numbers of phytoliths studies increased substantially during the 1990s and dramatically from 2000 onwards. Key Issues/Current Debates Research questions addressed with phytolith analysis include the study of ancient diet, plant domestication, crop processing, non-dietary uses such as for fuel, spatial arrangements of plant use at archaeological sites, and the identification of ancient field systems. There are interpretative considerations specific to different geographic regions, for instance, concerning the degree of taxonomic information that relevant taxa can provide. Different site types, such as caves, shell middens, and urban settlements, also necessitate particular approaches. Ongoing investigation to establish phytolith identification criteria and to understand taphonomic factors remain important fields of research for phytolith studies both within and outside of archaeology. Taphonomic Considerations There are many factors to be considered when interpreting the phytolith record, including phytolith formation within plants, the cultural pathways of plants into the archaeological record, and postdepositional factors. A recent review of pre- and postdepositional processes can be found in Madella and Lancelotti (2012). Phytoliths are released into soils when plants decay or are burnt, and for the most part, those in archaeological sediments will act as good indicators of on-site plant use (Piperno 2006: 105). In general, phytoliths are not transported over long distances with some exceptions, such as dust or sandstorms. The potential impact of factors such as soil formation and bioturbation may vary by region and site type. Although very robust, phytoliths can be destroyed in very alkaline soils (above pH 9). The shape and chemical properties of individual phytoliths can variably impact rates of dissolution (Piperno 2006: 108, 123). Phytoliths can also be mechanically damaged, for instance, through trampling or sweeping P P 5922 in antiquity. Different laboratory processing methods will also affect numbers of conjoined cells in silica skeletons (Jenkins 2009). Sampling and Archaeological Questions Sampling strategies will vary depending upon site type, for instance, between tell sites, shell middens, or caves. Samples should be taken, when possible, from tightly defined features likely to contain concentrated plant remains, such as storage areas, hearths, and ash lenses, as phytolith data may then reveal information about the specialized functions of certain areas (Piperno 2006: 83). In sites (or areas of sites) where no clear features are apparent, samples can be taken at regular intervals across surfaces or vertically between site levels. Control samples from sterile layers or off-site sediments are also important. Most samples are taken in the field, but samples of micro-lenses can also be taken from micromorphological blocks in the laboratory (Madella & Lancelotti 2012). Sediment samples taken for phytolith analysis can be taken at two scales of analysis: at the scale of the excavation unit defined by site excavators and from smaller “spot” samples within these units. These “small-scale contexts” can be used to examine microdistribution patterns (Rovner 2001). Spot samples can be taken across horizontal surfaces, for example, across floors within buildings. Spot samples can also be taken vertically from micro-lenses within sections, for instance, through floors or rubbish deposits to investigate specific depositional events. Alternatively, for contexts such as rubbish deposits, subsamples from bulk sediments (at the scale of the excavation unit) may be useful for analyzing temporal and spatial trends by enabling a greater number of archaeological contexts to be studied. Such bulk samples are also directly comparable with macrobotanical or faunal datasets in terms of scale. If macroscopically visible silica skeletons are present, these are best sampled with a scalpel and placed in a small glass vial, as the individual signature of the plant will be lost if the silica skeleton disintegrates into surrounding sediments (Ryan 2011). Phytolith samples can also be taken from objects such as grinding stones Phytolith Studies in Archaeology (Radomski & Neumann 2011) or dental calculus (Henry & Piperno 2008). Processing and Analysis Phytoliths are typically extracted from sediments and soils through a series of laboratory steps. Usually around 0.5–2 g of sediment is processed, depending upon phytolith densities within sediments. Processing methods vary between researchers (Albert & Weiner 2001; Rosen 2005; Piperno 2006: 90-92), for instance, organics can be removed through chemical digestion or through ashing in a muffle furnace at 500  C. Other processing steps include carbonate removal using a 10 % solution of hydrochloric acid, clay removal through a settling process and the use of a 5 % solution of sodium hexametaphosphate (Calgon) as a clay deflocculant, and a flotation stage using a heavy-density liquid such as sodium polytungstate made to a specific gravity of around 2.35 g/cm3. Phytoliths can be mounted onto slides using a suitable permanent fixative such as Entallin. Alternatively a liquid mounting medium like immersion oil is useful for studying the three dimensionalities of phytolith forms. Slides are scanned and counted using a light-transmitting microscope at around  400 magnification. The amount of forms counted by researchers varies but commonly falls within 200–400 phytoliths and partly depends upon the frequency of rare types. Absolute counts (which are a measure of phytolith density) can be calculated per gram of sediment or (depending on processing methods) to the sediment’s acidinsoluble fraction (AIF) (Albert & Weiner 2001; Rosen 2005). Relative abundances (percentages) among phytolith categories can also be calculated. There are advantages and biases inherent in using both absolute counts and relative abundances. Relative abundances (%) are useful for comparing phytolith assemblages from varying context categories with different types of sediments but can be problematic when a plant produces extremely large quantities of phytoliths as the variability among other lower phytolithproducing taxa among samples may be obscured. Phytolith images can be taken using a camera attached to a light-transmitting microscope, Phytolith Studies in Archaeology a scanning electron microscope (SEM) to examine three-dimensional form, or a variable pressure scanning electron microscope (VP-SEM) which enables imaging of cell wall patterning and phytoliths in their anatomical location (Ryan et al. 2012). Several classification schemes exist for phytolith description. The International Code for Phytolith Nomenclature 1.0 (Madella et al. 2005) aims to create an internationally accepted protocol to describe and name individual phytoliths. Silica skeletons can consist of many types of plant cells arranged in their original anatomical location, and studies by grass systemists such as Metcalfe (1960) can aid identifications. Key Phytolith Types Phytoliths provide varying levels of taxonomic information. Some morphologies can be identified to family, subfamily, genus, and more occasionally to species. The greatest quantities and categories of taxonomically identifiable phytoliths are produced by monocotyledonous plants, especially grasses (Poaceae), and also by palms (Arecaceae), sedges (Cyperaceae), and the banana family (Musaceae). Phytoliths are also formed within many dicotyledonous woody tree and shrub plant families. Piperno (2006) provides an extensive review of phytoliths produced by different plant groups. Grasses produce multiple phytolith forms providing varying levels of taxonomic information. Several important cereals (discussed below) and wild grasses produce diagnostic morphologies identifiable to genus level and more occasionally species. These diagnostic forms are most frequently from grass husks (seed bracts), but sometimes phytoliths from other plant parts are identifiable to genus level, for instance, Phragmites sp. (common reed) has recognizable leaf and stem multicell phytoliths (Fig. 2). With notable exceptions, less diagnostic cell types include various types of long cells, hairs, stomata, and bulliforms. Some phytoliths provide anatomical information, for instance, most commonly bulliform cells are associated with leaves and dendritic long cells with husks. 5923 P Phytolith Studies in Archaeology, Fig. 2 Multicell phytolith from Phragmites australis (common reed) leaf, showing saddle (A) and stomata (B) phytoliths; scale bar, 100 mm (Image: PL Ryan; copyright Trustees of the British Museum) Grass “short cells” can broadly distinguish among several major grass subfamilies (Twiss 1992). The basic groupings are rondel forms (most common in the Pooideae, which includes wheat and barley), bilobe and cross forms (most common in the Panicoideae), and saddle-shaped forms (mostly found within the Chloridoideae subfamily). Pooid grasses have C3 photosynthetic pathways and are common in temperate climates and high altitudes, chloridoid grasses and most panicoid grasses usually have C4 photosynthetic pathways and are common in hotter environments, while chloridoid grasses are usually associated with aridity. There are exceptions; for instance, the saddle-producing chloridoid grass Aeluropus spp. grows in wetland habitats spanning arid to temperate climates. Also, some short cell types are present within more than one subfamily, for instance, in the Arundinoideae subfamily rondels and “saddle-topped short trapezoids,” are found within Phragmites australis (common reed) (Fig. 2) (Ollendorf et al. 1988). Phytoliths are also abundantly produced by sedges (wetland plants that superficially resemble grasses: family Cyperaceae). The most distinctive “cones” often derive from achenes and achene bracts, while less potentially P P 5924 distinguishing cone forms are also produced in leaf/stem areas (particularly leaves), as well as sometimes other cells types including stomata, hairs, bulliforms, and various types of long cells (Figs. 3 and 4). Phytoliths are also abundant in palms. Genus-level identification is problematic but depends on the range of regional palm genera. In the Near East, “spherical echinate” forms from date palms (Phoenix dactylifera) (Fig. 5) can be potentially distinguished from doum palm (Hyphaene thebaica) phytoliths that are generally larger and fall into two size groups (Rosen 1992). “Polyhedral,” “jigsaw,” and hair phytoliths (Fig. 6) are formed in certain dicotyledonous tree or shrub leaves (Bozarth 1992). Phytoliths Phytolith Studies in Archaeology, Fig. 3 Multicell phytolith from Carex divisa inflorescence bracts (sedge); scale bar, 100 mm (Image: PL Ryan; copyright Trustees of the British Museum) Phytolith Studies in Archaeology, Fig. 4 Multicell phytolith from Cyperus sp. leaf (sedge); scale bar, 100 mm (Image: PL Ryan; copyright Trustees of the British Museum) Phytolith Studies in Archaeology can also be present within wood and bark, although up to 20 times lower than grasses and absent in some taxa (Albert & Weiner 2001). Silica deposits can be present in parenchyma, axial parenchyma cells, in fibers, and in vessels (Metcalfe & Chalk 1983: 93). Phytoliths in bark may be secondarily deposited (for instance, from leaves). Phytoliths from woody plants are generally of irregular morphology (Albert & Weiner 2001). Phytolith forms can also derive from outer layers of certain dicotyledonous seeds and nuts, including Celtis sp. (hackberry). Selected Phytolith Studies by Region and Crop Type Many cereals and other crops have taxonomically diagnostic phytoliths that can be used to investigate plant diet and agriculture. Crop taxa have often been most intensively studied in regions where they were originally domesticated and where preservation of plant macro-remains has been poor – for instance, in lowland tropical areas or at pre-agrarian Epipalaeolithic sites in the Levant. Phytoliths have been used to study wheat (Triticum spp.) and barley (Hordeum spp.) agriculture particularly in the Near East, where they were domesticated, and now increasingly in other areas including parts of Europe, Central Asia, and North Africa. The analysis of silica skeletons from Near Eastern cereal crops was pioneered by Arlene Rosen (1992), who outlined several criteria for identifying husks from wheat (Fig. 7), barley, and three wild grasses from the Phytolith Studies in Archaeology Phytolith Studies in Archaeology, Fig. 5 Globular echinate phytoliths from Phoenix dactylifera leaf (date palm); scale bar, 100 mm (Image: PL Ryan; copyright Trustees of the British Museum) 5925 P Phytolith Studies in Archaeology, Fig. 7 Silica skeleton from Triticum durum husk (durum wheat), including dendritic (A) and papillae (B) phytoliths; scale bar, 100 mm (Image: PL Ryan; copyright Trustees of the British Museum) P Phytolith Studies in Archaeology, Fig. 6 Multicell dicot phytolith including hair from Buglossoides tenuiflora leaf (gromwell); scale bar, 100 mm (Image: PL Ryan; copyright Trustees of the British Museum) Pooideae subfamily; oat grass (Avena spp.), rye grass (Lolium spp.), and goat grass (Aegilops spp.). Identification criteria are yet to be defined for husk silica skeletons from many Pooideae grasses, but can sometimes still be identified as ‘wild grass husk’ (Fig. 8). Key identifying features include the undulating wave patterning created particularly by the dendritic cell walls and the shape and ornamentation of papillae cells (Fig. 7). Individual papillae cells can differentiate between wheat and barley at genus level as well as among certain species (Tubb et al. 1993). Ball Phytolith Studies in Archaeology, Fig. 8 Silica skeleton from Bromus sp. husk (bromegrass); scale bar, 100 mm (Image: PL Ryan; copyright Trustees of the British Museum) et al. (1999) used computer-based scanning software to study the morphometrics of individual husk cells from several wheat and barley species and, from this, developed a classification key as well as discriminant function tests that were able to distinguish among these taxa (confidently to genera and often to species depending on the method). Morphometric analysis of single cells can be applied to sample contexts where P 5926 phytolith assemblages are likely to contain husks from cereals rather than a wide range of grasses, as other Pooideae grasses may have overlapping cell measurements (Ball et al. 1999). Archaeological applications of phytoliths in the Near East have been increasingly applied across a wide range of periods and settlement types. For instance, phytoliths have been used to study pre-agrarian shifts towards wild grass exploitation at late Natufian Levantine settlements (Rosen 2010), early agriculture and plant use at Neolithic sites such as Çatalhöyük (Rosen 2005; Ryan in press), and urban centers such as Bronze Age Tel Dor (Albert et al. 2008). Studies from cave sites including from Middle Paleolithic through to Natufian levels have revealed information about plants used for fuel (Albert & Weiner 2001) as well as about possible Neanderthal wild grass husk exploitation (Madella et al. 2002). Other studies have investigated wheat and barley phytoliths as indicators of crop-growing conditions. A pioneering study by Rosen and Weiner (1994) showed numbers of conjoined cells in cereal husk silica skeletons increased with irrigation. Madella et al. (2009) have shown the ratio of short cells and long cells from leaves, and stems can act as an indicator of water availability, while Jenkins et al. (2011) have outlined a further method using the ratio of short cells to dendritic long cells from cereal husks. New World crop phytoliths, especially maize (Zea mays), have a long history of research. Large-scale modern reference studies led by Dolores Piperno and Deborah Pearsall since the late 1970s and centered around the lowland Neotropics have enabled size and morphological criteria to be developed to identify particular cross-shaped phytoliths from maize leaves and to distinguish these from wild grass populations (see references in Piperno 2009). Studies from the subtropical panicoid grasslands of southern South America have shown the criteria hold elsewhere (Iriarte 2003). Distinctive phytoliths within maize cobs were recognized from the mid-1980s in studies by Susan Mulholland and Steven Bozarth in North America (for references see Piperno (2009)). Large-scale reference studies of cob and fruit-case phytoliths have been Phytolith Studies in Archaeology carried out; maize and its wild ancestor Balsas teosinte (Zea parviglumis) can be distinguished, with wavy top rondels diagnostic of maize cobs and ruffle top rondels identifiable at the Zea genus level (Pearsall et al. 2003; Piperno 2009). Other well-studied New World crop phytoliths include distinctive scalloped phytoliths from the fruit rind of the Cucurbita genus, first recognized by Steven Bozarth in the 1980s, which have been used to study the history of domestic squashes and gourds and sometimes to distinguish between wild and domesticated species (Piperno 2009). Archaeological applications have included investigations of sediments from prehistoric settlement sites and agricultural terraces, as well as of residues from grinding stones and other food-related artifacts including pottery (Piperno 2006, 2009). The potential of rice phytoliths to investigate the origins of Asian rice agriculture is also well established. Large reference studies of rice and related wild grasses from southern China have been undertaken and phytolith identification criteria established (Pearsall et al. 1995; Zhao et al. 1998). The Oryza genera can be identified from double-peaked hair cells (from husks), and further characteristics have been suggested to differ between wild and domestic species, although these remain controversial (Fuller et al. 2010). Other cell types identifiable to the rice genus are keystone bulliforms with flared edges. These show differences between indica and japonica subspecies of rice, although this variation is also found in wild populations, making application of this useful in regions like Japan without wild rice (Zheng et al. 2003). Millet phytoliths have seen comparatively less focus. Foxtail and common millet were staple foods across the Far East and also important across Eurasia. Modern phytolith reference studies have defined identification criteria for common millet (Panicum miliaceum) and foxtail millet (Setaria italica) based on several characteristics of husk silica skeletons including the undulated patterns of epidermal long cells (Lu et al. 2009). Similar criteria have also been developed to distinguish foxtail millet, the predominant Neolithic crop in northern China, from its wild ancestor green foxtail (Setaria viridis) Phytolith Studies in Archaeology (Zhang et al. 2011). The potential of phytoliths for identifying several other millet species is demonstrated by Madella et al. (2013). Harvey and Fuller (2005) investigated how cropprocessing models can inform analysis of millet and rice phytoliths and applied their model to a Neolithic site in India. There have been comparatively few phytolith studies of African crops and archaeological settlements. A recent study has examined inflorescence phytoliths from wild and domesticated West African grasses and applied this to the analysis of phytoliths from archaeological grinding stones in the Eastern Sahara and Western Sahel savannah (Radomski & Neumann 2011). Findings included that certain cross and bilobe phytoliths could be used to group some grasses within the Paniceae tribe, that Digitaria (which includes the crop fonio) was distinguishable due to papillae density, while sorghum husks had distinctive bilobes and dendritic long cells. Many Panicoideae grass genera are known, such as Panicum and Sorghum, to potentially produce husk silica skeletons (Fig. 9), and further identifications of African millet grasses may be possible with multicell identification methods analogous to those applied to common and foxtail millet (above). However, the applicability of this method will depend on the presence of silica skeletons in archaeological samples as opposed to predominantly single cells, which may vary in likelihood among genera and be influenced by plant-growing conditions such as water availability in very dry environments (as well as post-taphonomic factors). Madella et al. (2013) show the potential of husk long cell phytoliths (in single and multicell form) for identifying millet species, including Sorghum bicolor and Pennisetum glaucum (pearl millet). Phytoliths of bananas (Musa sp.) have been shown to differ from those of indigenous African Ensete (Vrydaghs et al. 2003). Archaeological applications of phytolith analysis in Africa span vastly contrasting landscapes, time frames, and settlement types, including early modern human plant exploitation from cave sites (Albert & Marean 2012), equatorial forest sites during the Late Stone Age (Mercader et al. 2000) to Late 5927 P Phytolith Studies in Archaeology, Fig. 9 Silica skeleton from Sorghum bicolor husk (sorghum), including sorghum-type bilobe (A) and dendritic-type phytoliths (B); scale bar, 100 mm (Image: PL Ryan; copyright Trustees of the British Museum) Holocene settlements such as a Numidian site in Tunisia (Portillo & Albert 2011), and the New Kingdom colonial town of Amara West in northern Sudan (Ryan et al. 2012). For studies from other areas of the world, including Australia, New Zealand, and Central Asia, see references in the further reading section (below). Patterns of Plant Use, Processing, and Disposal at Archaeological Sites Phytolith categories found on archaeological sites can provide important information about agricultural practices, habitats exploited, wild plant foods, and non-dietary plant uses. Phytoliths from woody species, palms, grasses, and sedges may provide important information about plants burnt for fuel, while the presence of sedges and reed phytoliths provides information about wetland exploitation. Phytoliths can potentially be used to study spatial arrangements of plant use and discard across archaeological settlements. Locations of plant use may be suggested through quantified “peaks” of certain phytoliths across surfaces or features studied. It is often possible to identify phytoliths from different plant parts, enabling investigation of cropprocessing practices (Harvey and Fuller 2005), as well as the use of leaves and stems in basketry, building materials, and fuel. Distributions of cereal husk or straw phytoliths can be studied P P 5928 to investigate spatial arrangements of cereal storage, processing (such as dehusking), crop byproduct disposal, as well as the secondary use of crop-processing by-products. Different input sources can be explored by investigating a wide range of archaeological contexts and materials. Analysis of varied sample categories at Neolithic Çatalhöyük in Central Anatolia (including storage bins, ovens, fire spots, floors, mudbricks, basketry, and dung pellets) enabled detection of spatial patterns of plant use, processing, and disposal (Rosen 2005, Ryan in press). Large quantities of plant materials were incorporated into raw materials such as mudbricks, including cereal chaff and wetland plants (Ryan 2011). Samples from storage bins provided information about storage, and locations of cereal dehusking were identified within buildings. Phytoliths from bulk sample analyses (from middens) spanning over 1,000 years of site occupation enabled detection of long-term changes in plants present (Ryan in press), while phytolith samples from micro-lenses from particular midden sequences provided perspectives on discrete episodes of plant deposition (Shillito 2011; Ryan in press). Animal dung can be an important route for phytoliths into archaeological contexts, for instance, through stabling or the use of dung as fuel, and analysis of calcareous spherulites can be analyzed as a proxy for herbivore dung (Portillo & Albert 2011). At sites where dung pellets are present, phytoliths can be extracted from dissected pellets and may provide perspectives on foddering or grazing practices. Regionally relevant ethnographic and ethnobotanical studies can provide useful analogies about certain plant uses, such as for food or fuel, and about their processing and disposal. Harvey and Fuller (2005) showed how cropprocessing models (derived from ethnographic studies of traditional farming) could be applied to the analysis of millet and rice phytoliths, in terms of interpreting which phytoliths derive from by-products produced by specific processing stages, and this approach is also applicable to other cereals. Prior to storage, crop-processing stages include threshing, winnowing, and sieving. Some cereals, such as glume wheat, require an extra processing stage Phytolith Studies in Archaeology (potentially post storage) to remove husks. Different by-products created during each stage may potentially be collected for use as fuel or fodder or may become incorporated into other materials such as temper in dung cakes or in building materials. There have been a small number of ethnoarchaeological phytolith studies, such as Tsartsidou et al. (2008), which involve taking samples from present-day or recently abandoned settlements to investigate phytolith signatures from different types of site area or deposits. Integrating Botanical Datasets Charred macro-remains and phytoliths can provide unique and complementary data through offering information about different plant parts and by surviving through different taphonomic processes (Harvey & Fuller 2005, Ryan et al. 2012). Charred macro-remains can identify a wider range of taxa than phytoliths; however, phytoliths will provide information about plant parts that do not frequently survive charring, such as leaves and stems, and about plants present in ashy contexts where charred macros are entirely destroyed by high temperatures. Phytoliths may also provide separate categories of information about plant use in non-burnt site areas or materials. Studies have also combined starch and phytolith results, especially in the case of samples taken from artifacts or dental calculus and also particularly in studies from the Americas (Henry & Piperno 2008; Piperno 2009). Starch will provide information about non-phytolith-producing plant parts, including cereal grains and tubers. International Perspectives Phytolith research is a worldwide discipline,with two major international conferences. The International Meeting on Phytolith Research (IMPR) is convened by the Society for Phytolith Research. The South American Meeting on Phytolith Research (Encuentros de Investigaciones Fitolı́ticas (EIF)) is convened by the Grupo de Estudios Fitolı́ticos Aplicados del Cono Sur GEFACS. Phytolith Studies in Archaeology Research trajectories can often be regional, especially when investigating early agriculture. However, many crops have wide geographic distributions in later time periods and are increasingly studied across different continents within phytolith research. Many non-dietary phytolithproducing plants also have wide geographic distributions (such as reeds) and thus relevance to researchers, especially when considering identifications at genus or plant family level. Discussions of approaches to studying phytoliths from certain types of archaeological sites can also have cross-regional relevance, while other research questions pertain to regionally specific cultural or environmental settings. Future Directions Certain regions and time periods are less well studied than others, with areas of major crop domestications having the most extensive history of research. There are a number of phytolithproducing crops that have so far seen little/ emerging research, such as African cucurbits and various African, southern Indian, and southeast Asian millet grasses (Piperno 2006: 79). Ethnoarchaeological phytolith research projects in contemporary or abandoned settlements offer another new area of emerging research as so far there have only been a handful of research projects using this approach. Future directions could also include further integration between phytolith, charred seed, and charcoal datasets at archaeological sites to provide complimentary datasets from both the same sediment samples as well as comparing overall results. Comparing starch and phytolith results, especially from artifact residues, is a well-established technique in some regions such as the Neotropics (Piperno 2009) and less frequently applied in other areas such as the Near East. Cross-References ▶ Agrarian Landscapes: Environmental Archaeological Studies 5929 P ▶ Andes: Origins and Development of Agriculture ▶ Archaeobotany of Agricultural Intensification ▶ Archaeobotany of Early Agriculture: Macrobotany ▶ Archaeobotany of Early Agriculture: Microbotanical Analysis ▶ Environmental Reconstruction in Archaeological Science ▶ Maize: Origins and Development ▶ Millets: Origins and Development ▶ Northern Asia: Origins and Development of Agriculture ▶ Paleoethnobotany ▶ Phytoliths in Islamic Archaeology ▶ Plant Domestication and Cultivation in Archaeology ▶ Rice: Origins and Development References ALBERT, R.M. & C.W. MAREAN. 2012. The exploitation of plant resources by early Homo sapiens: the phytolith record from Pinnacle Point 13B Cave, South Africa. Geoarchaeology 27: 363–384. ALBERT, R.M. & S. WEINER. 2001. Study of phytoliths in prehistoric ash layers using a quantitative approach, in J.D. Meunier & F. Colin (ed.) 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POWERS-JONES & M. MOORE. 2009. Plant water availability and analytical microscopy of phytoliths: Implications for ancient irrigation in arid zones. Quaternary International 193: 32-40. MADELLA, M., C. LANCELOTTI & J.J GARCÍA-GRANERO. 2013. Millet microremains–an alternative approach to understand cultivation and use of critical crops in Prehistory Archaeological and Anthropological Sciences (published online February 2013) doi: 10.1007/ s12520-013-0130-y. MERCADER, J., F. RUNGE, L. VRYDAGHS, H. DOUTRELEPONT, C. E.N. EWANGO & J. JUAN-TRESSERAS. 2000. Phytoliths from archaeological sites in the tropical forest of Ituri, Democratic Republic of Congo. Quaternary Research 54 (1): 102-112. METCALFE, C. 1960. Anatomy of the monocotyledons I. Gramineae. London: Oxford University Press METCALFE, C.R. & L. CHALK. 1983. Anatomy of the dicotyledons, Volume II: wood structure and conclusion of the general introduction. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Phytolith Studies in Archaeology MITHEN, S., E. JENKINS, K. JAMJOUM, S. NUIMAT. S. NORTCLIFF & B. FINLAYSON. 2008. Experimental crop growing in Jordan to develop methodology for the identification of ancient crop irrigation. World Archaeology 40(1): 7-25. doi: 10.1080/ 00438240701843561 OLLENDORF, A.L., S.C. MULHOLLAND & G. RAPP. JR. 1988. Phytolith analysis as a means of plant identification: Arundo donax and Phragmites communis. Annals of Botany 61: 209-214. PEARSALL, D.M., D.R. PIPERNO, E.H. DINAN, M. UMLAUF, Z. ZHAO & R.A BENFER, JR. 1995. Distinguishing rice (Oryza sativa Poaceae) from wild oryza species through phytolith analysis: results of preliminary research. Economic Botany 49(2): 183-196. PEARSALL, D.M., K. CHANDLER-EZELL & A. CHANDLEREZELL. 2003. Identifying maize in neotropical sediments and soils using cob phytoliths. Journal of Archaeological Science 30: 611-627. PIPERNO, D.R. 1988. Phytolith analysis: an archaeological and geological perspective. San Diego: Academic Press. - 2006. Phytoliths: a comprehensive guide for archaeologists and paleoecologists. Lanham: Alta Mira Press. - 2009. Identifying crop plants with phytoliths (and starch grains) in Central and South America: a review and an update of the evidence. Quaternary International 193: 146-159. PORTILLO, M. & R.M. ALBERT. 2011. Husbandry practices and livestock dung at the Numidian site of Althiburos (el Médéina, Kef Governorate, northern Tunisia): the phytolith and spherulite evidence. Journal of Archaeological Science 38(12): 3224-33. RADOMSKI, K.U. & K. NEUMANN. 2011. Grasses and grinding stones: inflorescence phytoliths from modern West African Poaceae and archaeological stone artefacts, in A.G. Fahmy, S. Kahlheber & A.C. D’Andrea (ed.) Windows on the African past: current approaches to African archaeobotany: 153-166. Frankfurt: Africa Magna Verlag. ROSEN, A. 2010. Natufian plant exploitation: managing risk and stability in an environment of change. Eurasian Prehistory 7(1): 117-131. ROSEN, A.M. 1992. Preliminary identification of silica skeletons from Near Eastern archaeological sites: an anatomical approach, in G. Rapp Jr. & S.C. Mulholland (ed.) Phytolith systematics: emerging issues: 129-148. New York: Plenum Press. - 2005. Phytolith indicators of plant and land use at Çatalhöyük, in I. Hodder (ed.) Inhabiting Çatalhöyük, reports from the 1995-99 seasons: 203-212. Cambridge: London, McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research, British Institute of Archaeology at Ankara. ROSEN, A.M. & S. WEINER. 1994. Identifying ancient irrigation: a new method using opaline phytoliths from emmer wheat. Journal of Archaeological Science 21: 132-135. ROVNER, I. 1971. Potential of opal phytoliths for use in paleoecological reconstruction. Journal of Ethnobiology 1(3): 343–359. Phytoliths in Islamic Archaeology - 2001. Cultural behaviour and botanical history: phytolith analysis in small places and narrow intervals, in J.D. Meunier & F. Colin (ed.) Phytoliths: applications in earth sciences and human history: 119-128. Lisse: A.A. Balkema Publishers. RYAN, P. 2011. Plants as material culture in the Near Eastern Neolithic: perspectives from the silica skeleton artifactual remains at Çatalhöyük. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 30(3): 292-305. - In press. Plant exploitation from household and landscape perspectives: the phytolith evidence, in I. Hodder (ed.) Humans and landscapes of Çatalhöyük: reports from the 2000-2008 seasons: Chapter 9, Volume 8. Los Angeles: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology Press at UCLA. RYAN, P., C.R. CARTWRIGHT & N. SPENCER. 2012. Archaeobotanical research in a pharaonic town in ancient Nubia. British Museum Technical Research Bulletin 6: 97-106. SHILLITO, L.M. 2011. Simultaneous thin section and phytolith observations of finely stratified deposits from Neolithic Çatalhöyük, Turkey: implications for paleoeconomy and Early Holocene paleoenvironment Journal of Quaternary Science 26 (6): 576 – 588. TSARTSIDOU, G., S. LEV-YADUN, N. EFSTRATIOU & S. WEINER. 2008. Ethnoarchaeological study of phytolith assemblages from an agro-pastoral village in northern Greece (Sarakini): development and application of a Phytolith Difference Index. Journal of Archaeological Science 35(3): 600-613. TUBB, H.J., M.J. HODSON & G.C. HODSON. 1993. The inflorescence papillae of the Triticeae: a new tool for taxonomic and archaeological research. Annals of Botany 72: 537–545. TWISS, P. C. 1992. Predicted world distribution of C3 and C4 grass phytoliths, in G. Rapp Jr. & S.C. Mulholland (ed.) Phytolith systematics: emerging issues: 113-128. New York: Plenum Press. VRYDAGHS, L, R. SWENNEN, C. MBIDA, H. DOUTRELEPONT, E.D. LANGHE & P.D. MARET. 2003. The banana phytolith as a direct marker of early agriculture: a review of the evidence, in D.M. Hart & L.A. Wallis (ed.) Phytolith and starch research in the Australian-PacificAsian regions: the state of the art (Terra Australis 19): 177-85. Canberra: Pandanus Books. ZHANG, J.H. LU, N. WU, X. YANG & X. DIAO. 2011. Phytolith analysis for differentiating between foxtail millet (Setaria italica) and green foxtail (Setaria viridis). PLoS ONE 6(5): e19726. ZHAO, Z., D. PEARSALL, R. BENFER & D. PIPERNO.1998. Distinguishing rice (Oryza sativa Poaceae) from wild Oryza species through phytolith analysis, II finalized method. Economic Botany 52: 134-145. ZHENG, Y., Y. DONG, A. MATSUI, E. UDATSU & H. FUIJIWARA. 2003. Molecular genetic basis of determining subspecies of ancient rice using shape of phytoliths. Journal of Archaeological Science 30: 1215–1221. 5931 P Further Reading Archaeobotany Wiki. n.d. Available at: http:// archaeobotany.dept.shef.ac.uk/wiki/index.php/Main_ Page The Colonial Williamsburg website. n.d. Available at: http://research.history.org/archaeological_research/ collections/collarchaeobot/phytolithSearch.cfm. Grupo de Estudios Fitolı́ticos Aplicados del Cono Sur GEFACS. http://www.santafe-conicet.gov.ar/gefacs/ indexeng.html HART, D.M. & L.A. WALLIS. (ed.) 2003. Phytolith and starch research in the Australian-Pacific-Asian regions: the state of the art (Terra Australis 19). Canberra: Pandanus Books. HODSON, M. n.d. Phytolith homepage. Available at: http:// www.hodsons.org/MartinHodson/phytohome.htm MADELLA, M. & D. ZURRO. 2007. Plants, people and places – recent studies in phytolith analysis (Oxbow Monograph). Oxford: Oxbow Books. M. BLINNIKOV’S PHYTOLITH GALLERY. n.d. Available at: http://web.stcloudstate.edu/msblinnikov/phd/phyt.html MEUNIER, J.D. & C. FABRICE COLIN. (ed.) 2001. Phytoliths: applications in earth sciences and human history. Lisse: A.A. Balkema Publishers. OLD WORLD REFERENCE PHYTOLITHS VERSION 1.3. n.d. Available at: http://www.homepages.ucl.ac.uk/ tcrndfu/phytoliths.html PEARSALL, D. M. 2011. Phytoliths in the flora of Ecuador. University of Missouri Online Phytolith Database. Available at: http://phytolith.missouri.edu. The Phytolitharien: Bulletin of the Society for Phytolith Research. RAPP JR., G. & S.C. MULHOLLAND. (ed.) 1992. Phytolith systematics: emerging issues. New York: Plenum Press. ROSEN, A.M. 2007. Phytolith remains from final Natufian contexts at Mallaha/Eynan. Journal of the Israel Prehistoric Society 37: 340-355. THE SOCIETY FOR PHYTOLITH RESEARCH. n.d. Available at: http://www.phytolithsociety.org/ Phytoliths in Islamic Archaeology Sofia Laparidou Department of Anthropology, University of Texas at Austin, Texas, TX, USA Introduction The study of Islamic rural history and archaeology is a fast-growing focus for archaeological science. Despite efforts by many researchers to P P 5932 incorporate environmental studies, such as archaeobotanical analysis, into their methodological framework, these studies are limited and non-systematic. Information regarding local economic decisions, independent from state control, which represent the local resilience of medieval subsistence farmers, is missing. It is therefore important to develop a better understanding of shifts in agricultural investment and intensification of production, and the life of subsistence farmers in relation to environmental, political, and economic change during the early, middle, and late Islamic periods. Definition Sediment analysis for phytolith extraction can be used to inform the issue of agricultural systems during the Islamic periods and to reveal risk-minimization strategies adopted by medieval peasants as mitigating factors against political and environmental turmoil. The adaptive decisions of peasants can be investigated using micro-botanical data deriving from different environmental regions and multitemporal Islamic archaeological sites. It is important that data for the purposes of this analysis be derived from different environmental zones. Without downplaying the political economic forces that shaped the social and ecological history of the Islamic periods, the role of regional agricultural and pastoral production for state profit and for local subsistence can be assessed with the use of phytolith data. Such research considers regional agricultural practices adopted during and after the agricultural revolution of the early Islamic period (Watson 1983) and aims to investigate what happened in the periods following these important changes to the Islamic agrosystem. Key Issues Phytoliths are particles of amorphous silica that are formed with the absorption of ground water by the plants when living. Silica (opal) is Phytoliths in Islamic Archaeology deposited in the cells of plant epidermal tissue, and the shapes of these cells define the phytoliths’ morphology. For the purposes of archaeological analysis and interpretation, the recovery and identification of two major types of phytoliths is necessary: single-cell and multi-cell phytoliths. Single-cells are individual cells formed within the plant, and multi-cell phytoliths are conjoined single-cells that form silica skeletons of adjacent cells of the epidermal tissue of grasses (Rosen & Weiner 1994). In order to assess the issue of agricultural production during the Islamic period, the identification of particular phytolith morphotypes is used for interpretation. First, plant families and subfamilies are identified using single- and multi-cells, with the identification down to genus of major economic plants using multi-cell phytoliths. Second, the identification of different plant parts is used in order to identify by-products associated with different crop-processing stages following the conclusions of ethnographic work conducted by Hillman on macro-botanical remains (Hillman 1984) and the study of Harvey and Fuller (2005) on the identification of crop-processing stages through macro- and micro-botanical remains. Phytoliths can in this way offer information on agricultural activities and processing by-products and allow the exploration of agricultural and pastoral pursuits. Phytoliths’ direct deposition in sediments makes them excellent proxy data for archaeobotanical analysis. As inorganic matter, their persistence against destruction in different environments such as temperate, cool climates, and arid and semiarid conditions increases the possibility of their preservation when other archaeobotanical and paleoecological evidence may decay unless charred (Rosen 1999; Piperno 2006). However, not all plants produce diagnostic phytoliths. Many families and species share morphological characteristics making their identification through the phytolith record difficult or impossible. For the purposes of archaeological analysis and interpretation, emphasis has been given to the study of the identification of major economic plants and crops such as maize (Piperno & Flannery 2001) and Phytoliths in Islamic Archaeology others useful for the purposes of the study of the Islamic periods: Poaceae family cereals, some wild cereals and dates (Rosen 1992, 1999; Rosen & Weiner 1994), rice (Pearsall et al. 1995; Harvey & Fuller 2005), millets (Harvey & Fuller 2005), Cucurbitaceae family plants (Piperno et al. 2000), and a number of Cyperaceae family plants (Ollendorf 1992). Dicotyledonous plants (woody trees and shrubs) offer limited identification potential (Bozaarth 1992), while phytoliths in fruits and pulses likewise present limited possibilities for identification. Current Debates Phytolith data from selected Islamic archaeological sites can produce a better understanding of the historical ecology and agricultural practices adopted during the Islamic periods. More specifically, micro-botanical analysis can assess the intensity in habitation and land use through identification of agricultural and pastoral pursuits or intensification of agriculture through irrigation signals and diversification (Rosen & Weiner 1994). Experimental work done on phytoliths of Emmer wheat has explored the possibility of using phytoliths as evidence of past irrigation systems. Counts of more than 10 and 100 conjoined single-cells were formed in irrigated planted cereals (Rosen & Weiner 1994). Since then, further work has been done to explore further planting and growing conditions of cereals and the effect of irrigation and rain water on the formation of phytoliths (Mithen et al. 2008). Experimental studies supported the results of Rosen and Weiner, but yet posed questions of how soil chemistry, evapotranspiration rates, and sub-, optimal, and over-optimal irrigation affect phytolith formation in wheat and barley species and in different parts of the plant. Phytolith data can provide information for local practices, subsistence, identification of activity areas such as for crop processing, animal husbandry practices, and other cultural activities and aspects of the medieval economy (Rosen 1999; Piperno 2006). Once more data are produced from medieval Islamic sites in different 5933 P regions, phytoliths may shed light on similarities and/or differences in subsistence, economy, settlement cycles, and microenvironments of sites from different geographic regions and environmental zones. Phytolith data that derive from medieval Islamic centers and villages seek to test two hypotheses. First is to trace the continuity of the early Islamic agricultural revolution, or “Green Revolution,” as defined by Watson (1983) regarding agricultural intensification through the production of major cash crops and other crops during the periods of study. This can be done through the identification of phases of agricultural intensification of production. Do we see the peak and decline of agricultural intensification after the period of the Green revolution? The idea of an Islamic agricultural revolution that happened with the beginning of the Islamic era was proposed by Watson. Watson claimed that the early Islamic world contributed to the global history of agriculture (700–1,100 CE). He suggested that the Middle East, North Africa, and Spain underwent an agricultural revolution. This period brought two major changes in agricultural and landscape history. One was the intensification of production through the spread and cultivation of new major cash and staple crops. Most of these crops came from East or South Asia, and they were not known in the Middle East and/or the Mediterranean. The example of sugarcane is crucial and has been central to historic and archaeological studies trying to trace its diffusion, production, and state or domestic use (Watson 1983). Like sugarcane, rice diffusion and intensive cultivation during the Islamic period is of great interest. Intensification of production did not come only from intensified agriculture of cash crops, such as sugar, cotton, and rice, but also with the rise in varieties of crops and diversification of production. Watson (1983) lists 18 crops, which he claims were incorporated into the economy and diet of the Middle East and the Mediterranean due to Islam, although most of the crops existed before the period of the Green Revolution. The new crops were diffused from tropical P P 5934 climates of the East and incorporated into the production economy of the Middle East. A second change resulting from the Islamic agricultural revolution was the shift to double cropping and the introduction of highly irrigated summer crops. Of course, the increased need for water by these new crops led to extensive investment and reuse of existing irrigation systems. Watson claimed that crops were diffused from India and Southeast Asia, through a huge connection network relating to maritime trade, along with the “manuals” and knowledge for their cultivation. In addition, emphasis was given to the expansion of free-threshing durum wheat and drought-resistant sorghum that changed the production and diet of the medieval period. However, Watson based his thesis on textual evidence and theories of diffusion, and although his conclusions are impressive and rational, his thesis should be supported through archaeobotanical evidence along with the study of medieval texts and has thus been reevaluated (Butzer 1985). Secondly, phytolith data can be used to suggest the resilience of subsistence farming by local people during the Islamic periods, during and after the period of the Islamic agricultural revolution using samples from different sites in different geographical regions. This method offers the opportunity to compare pastoral and peasant land use and subsistence among the areas under study. Thus, phytolith data can offer a different insight into adaptations to different environmental zones during periods of climatic and political turmoil during the Islamic periods and a new insight into the resilience strategies of medieval farmers in different regions of Jordan at that time. Identification of single-cell phytoliths that represent subfamilies of the Poaceae family, Pooideae, Chloridoideae, and Panicoideae (Twiss 1992) and plants of the Cyperaceae family, can be used for the description of sites’ microenvironments and to show whether local environmental conditions favored crop production. In general, C3 plants are indicative of more moderate climatic conditions and produce rondel-shaped short cells. Panicoid grasses generally grow in warm and humid environments and Phytoliths in Islamic Archaeology produce bilobes and cross-shaped phytoliths. Chloridoideae, which indicate dry land grasses and warm and dry habitats, create saddle-shaped short cells (Twiss 1992; Piperno 2006). Looking at phytolith densities of C3 versus C4 grasses present on sites during the Islamic periods could shed light on this direction of research. Also, phytolith data from Islamic sites aim to identify two major economic plants, wheat and barley, given that identification is possible using specific morphological criteria of multi-cell phytoliths (Rosen 1992). As they are main staples, and in the case of wheat, cash crops of the period of study, their identification is crucial for describing the continuity of agricultural production. They can be identified securely as they have been well studied by phytolith scientists (see Rosen 1992) and can contribute to the identification of these major economic plants of the medieval period and trace irrigation signals. Husk and stem phytoliths can be counted and used as indicators of the by-products of crop-processing stages in order to explore whether the sites under study produced their own crops or imported grains or other crops (Hillman 1984; Harvey & Fuller 2005). In addition, phytolith and macro-botanical data acquired from multi-temporal medieval sites of different environmental zones, from a variety of contexts with an expected high yield of phytoliths (Rosen 1999), can shed light on the subsistence economy characterizing different regions. Information about the main agricultural crops produced in the sites under study in different regions during the Islamic periods can be provided, in addition to whether crop selection changed through time. The Social Significance of Phytoliths for Islamic Archaeology and the Importance of an Interdisciplinary Approach to Rural Islamic History and Archaeology The state-controlled agricultural economy and the subsistence economy of a site can be reflected in the phytolith record based on the sampling strategy adopted. Samples may derive from both state-controlled buildings and subsistence farmers’ buildings. Thus, phytolith data can be Phytoliths in Islamic Archaeology used as indicators for state-controlled access to irrigated crops, as well as for a more opportunistic agriculture adopted by subsistence farmers. An example of such a site is Tell Hisban, Jordan, where the villagers’ farmhouses and animal pen, as well as the fourteenth-century governor’s storeroom and sixteenth-century governor’s house courtyard, were sampled for phytoliths. At Tell Hisban, both domestic and administrative-related buildings have been excavated and sampled for phytolith analysis, shedding light on the political ecology of the period of study, but such contexts are not always available. Thus information from medieval texts becomes invaluable. Walker (2011) investigates and explains parameters of medieval society in Jordan that emphasize the regionally distinct character of its districts and the selective investment and decisions of the Mamluk state. She suggests that local histories should be reconstructed in order to understand the forces that shaped the socioeconomic transformation that took place between the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries. First, she addresses the issue of Jordanian tribes as a political force. The Mamluk state aimed for strong ties with and allies within the local tribes, and this was ensured with sultanic visits and assimilation, tactics that were not always successful in controlling local rebellions and complaints especially during periods of environmental and economic stress. Local tribal history constitutes one aspect of regional histories affecting the relationship of the state with its provinces and by extension Mamluk investment in the peripheral state of Jordan. The different political, cultural, and environmental regions of Jordan, where the Jordanian people/tribes resided, are described according to their urban character through information from Mamluk waqfiyyat, court documents (shari‘ah), and sixteenthcentury tax registers along with their agricultural and pastoral potential and production. The rural character of the country is dominant in the description of these texts, and the concept of a city is absent for Mamluk and Ottoman South Syria, apart from the castle-towns. However, Walker presents archaeological work and the 5935 P results of surveys that have been employed in order to understand the nature and extent of the “villages” of Mamluk and Ottoman Jordan mentioned in waqfiyyat. Most importantly, the archaeological work she supports will help to reconstruct the everyday life of commoners, in addition to information from medieval court documents, something that is missing from the contemporary administrative, economic, and legal sources. The focus of political economic history is now shifting towards the investigation of local environmental parameters, such as the quality of agricultural land, soil properties, local rainfall variations, and local land-use changes as found in the archaeological record. Syrian chronicles and Ottoman registers are also used in order to reconstruct peasants’ lives, agricultural history, and how the rural history of the middle and late Islamic periods in Jordan can shed light on the issue of demographic decline by the end of the Mamluk Era. Walker’s work takes an interdisciplinary approach to this phenomenon of “decline” that emphasizes the regional character of Jordanian society as shaped by its political, ecological, and economic environment. The analysis of phytolith data is another strand that can and should be added to this multidisciplinary research. P Future Directions It is necessary to incorporate the study of phytoliths into research that uses archaeobotanical analysis for identifying the everyday life practices of peasants. Walker (2011) offers an interesting approach, which combines archaeological work conducted on the major cities and villages accounted in registers and waqfiyyat of the Mamluk period, as well as in Ottoman tax registers of the early sixteenth century, in order to investigate the regional implications of administrative control over local production. In sum, phytoliths can provide an innovative contribution to the study of Islamic rural history and archaeology. Future research will shed light on the investigation of local agricultural regimes P 5936 as key factors transforming regional social, demographic, and ecological history with the use of multiple lines of evidence alongside phytolith analysis and interpretation, such as archaeological, environmental proxy data, as well as documentary data such studies are under way (Cordova 2005; Lucke 2012). A systemic analysis of all these sources can inform land-use change and environmental and climatic histories of the medieval Islamic periods. Cross-References ▶ Paleoethnobotany ▶ Plant Processing Technologies in Archaeology References BOZAARTH, S. 1992. Classification of opal phytoliths formed in selected dicotyledons native to the Great Plains, in G. Rapp & S.C. Mulholland (ed.) Phytolith systematics: emerging issues: 193-214. New York: Plenum Press. BUTZER, K.W. 1985. Irrigation agrosystems in eastern Spain: Roman or Islamic origins? Annals of the Association of American Geographers 75 (4): 479-509. CORDOVA, C.E.F., et al 2005. Landforms, sediments, soil development and prehistoric site settings on the Madaba – Dhiban Plateau, Jordan. Geoarchaeology 20(1): 29-56. HARVEY, E. & D.Q. FULLER. 2005. Investigating crop processing through phytolith analysis: the case of rice and millets. Journal of Archaeological Science 32: 739-752. HILLMAN, G. 1984. Interpretation of archaeological plant remains: the application of ethnographic models from Turkey, in W. van Zeist & W. Casparie (ed.) Plants and ancient man: 1-41. Groningen: Balkema. LUCKE, B., M. SHONNAG, et al. 2012. Questioning Transjordan’s historic desertification: a critical review of the paradigm of empty lands. Levant. 44 (1): 101-126. MITHEN, S.J., E.L. JENKINS, K. JAMJOUM, S. NUIMAT & B. FINLAYSON. 2008. Experimental crop growing in Jordan to develop a methodology for the identification of ancient crop irrigation. World Archaeology 40(1): 7-25. OLLENDORF, A.L. 1992. Towards a classification scheme of sedge (Cyperaceae) phytoliths, in G. Rapp & S.C. Mulholland (ed.) Phytolith systematics: emerging issues: 99-111. New York: Plenum Press. PEARSALL, D.M., D.R. PIPERNO, E.H. DINAN, M. UMLAUF, Z. ZHAO & R.A. BENFER. 1995. Distinguishing rice (Oryza Pickersgill, Barbara sativa Poaceae) from wild Oryza species through phytolith analysis: results of preliminary research. Economic Botany 49: 183-196. PIPERNO, D.R. 2006. Phytoliths: a comprehensive guide for archaeologists and palaeoecologists. Lanham (MD): Altamira Press. PIPERNO, D.R. & K.V. FLANNERY. 2001. The earliest archaeological maize (Zea mays L.) from highland Mexico: new accelerator mass spectrometry dates and their implications. Proceedings of the National Academy of Science USA 98: 2101-2103. PIPERNO, D.R., T.C. ANDRES & K.E. STOTHERT. 2000. Phytoliths in Cucurbita and other neotropical Cucurbitaceae and their occurrence in early archaeological sites from the lowland American tropics. Journal of Archaeological Science 27: 193-208. ROSEN, A.M. 1992. Preliminary identification of silica skeletons from Near Eastern sites: an anatomical approach, in G. Rapp & S.C. Mulholland (ed.) Phytolith systematics: emerging issues: 129-147. New York: Plenum Press. - 1999. Phytolith analysis in Near Eastern archaeology, in S. Pike & S. Gitin (ed.) The practical impact of science on Aegean and Near Eastern archaeology: 86-92. London: Archetype Press. ROSEN, A.M. & S. WEINER. 1994. Identifying ancient irrigation: a new method using opaline phytoliths from Emmer wheat. Journal of Archaeological Science 21: 125-32. TWISS, P.C. 1992. Predicted world distribution of C3 and C4 grass phytoliths, in G. Rapp & S.C. Mulholland (ed.) Phytolith systematics: emerging issues: 113-28. New York: Plenum Press. WALKER, B.J. 2011. Jordan in the late Middle Ages. Transformation of the Mamluk frontier. Chicago: Middle East Documentation Centre. WATSON, A. M. 1983. Agricultural innovation in the early Islamic world. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pickersgill, Barbara Charles R. Clement Instituto Nacional de Pesquisas da Amazônia, Manaus, Amazonas, Brazil Basic Biographical Information Barbara Pickersgill is a British horticultural botanist and geneticist. She was born (13 May 1940) and raised in Yorkshire, England, and obtained her B.Sc. degree in Horticultural Botany from the Pickersgill, Barbara University of Reading in 1962. Immediately thereafter she pursued her Ph.D. in Botany at Indiana University, Bloomington, under the supervision of Charles B. Heiser, Jr., with a thesis entitled The Variability and Relationships of Capsicum chinense Jacq. that she defended in 1966. Upon her return to England, she was appointed Lecturer in the Department of Agricultural Botany at the University of Reading, UK. She retired in 2005. Barbara Pickersgill’s work with Capsicum chinense stimulated a lifelong interest in determining the origins and dispersals of Neotropical crops, later expanded to the rest of the world with her numerous students. Her interests in the use and conservation of crop genetic resources also involved her with the International Board for Plant Genetic Resources, now Bioversity International. She participated in expert consultations, funded by the Board, to plan and execute Capsicum collection, characterization, evaluation, and use strategies for collections held at both the Centro Agronómico Tropical de Investigación y Enseñanza, Turrialba, Costa Rica, and the Centro Nacional de Recursos Genéticos, Brası́lia, Brazil. Soon after returning to Reading, she was invited to act as botanist for the Ayacucho Archaeological-Botanical Project, Peru (1969–1971), and later for the Cuello Early Maya Archaeological Project, Orange Walk Town, Belize (1979). These activities introduced her to many of the Neotropical archaeologists working with crop origins and dispersals and involved her in numerous symposia over the next decades. While based at the University of Reading, Barbara Pickersgill was appointed by the Royal Society to be a Visiting Professor at the Departments of Agriculture and Biology of the University of Papua New Guinea, Port Moresby, in 1978. She was also invited to offer undergraduate or postgraduate courses in Italy, Spain, the Netherlands, and Cuba. She also acted as external examiner for Ph.D. theses at 8 British and one Irish universities. In 1993, Barbara Pickersgill was awarded the Linnean Gold Medal for Botany, became a Fellow of the Linnean Society of London, and 5937 P was elected a Fellow of the Institute of Biology. She was later elected President of the Society for Economic Botany (2000–2001). Major Accomplishments Barbara Pickersgill’s early work with the cytogenetic and morphological variation in Capsicum complemented work by Charles B. Heiser, Jr., her doctoral supervisor, and W. Hardy Eshbaugh, another Heiser student, and was instrumental in delimiting species and species complexes within the genus, as cytogenetics is a much more precise technique for species analysis than is morphology, especially in such morphologically variable domesticates as C. annuum and C. chinense. Heiser and his group confirmed that Native Americans domesticated five Capsicum species and distributed three of them widely. The three widely distributed species, Capsicum annuum, C. chinense, and C. frutescens, form a complex, because their probable wild ancestor is also widely distributed. The group confirmed that C. annuum originated in Mexico and was distributed southwards, while C. chinense originated in Amazonia and was distributed northwards; C. frutescens is less well understood, although its distribution is nearly as wide. Capsicum baccatum originated in the low-level Andes of Bolivia and Peru and was distributed only as far as Colombia, while C. pubescens originated in the higher Andes. These studies were immediately relevant to archaeologists, since they may allow species-level identification by the combination of seed, fruit, and fruitstalk morphology and known distributions and provide criteria for distinguishing domesticated from wild peppers (Pickersgill 1969a & b). During the 1960s and 1970s, the taxonomy of cultivated plants was often confused, because taxonomy was based primarily on morphology. With the inclusion of cytogenetics, the taxonomy of crops could be clarified (Pickersgill 1977), allowing curators of collections of genetic resources and archaeologists to work with better information. Since then, molecular genetic P P 5938 techniques have become powerful tools in taxonomy and domestication studies (Pickersgill 2007). With her students, Barbara Pickersgill has delved into the origin and dispersal of the common bean (Chacón et al. 2005, 2007), peanut, and the domestication process in Mexican cacti (Casas et al. 1997), as well as into Paleotropical crops, such as winged bean and bananas. This wide range of studies has given her a privileged view of crop domestication, which has resulted in recent reviews of Neotropical crops (Pickersgill 2007) and of the domestication process itself (Pickersgill 2009). During her career, she published more than 60 papers and book chapters, many of which are widely cited by archaeologists, as well as plant breeders and curators of crop genetic resources. Cross-References ▶ Andes: Origins and Development of Agriculture ▶ Capsicums/Chiles: Origins and Development References CASAS, A., B. PICKERSGILL, J. CABALLERO & A. VALIENTEBANUET. 1997. Ethnobotany and the process of domestication in the xoconochtli Stenocereus stellatus (Cactaceae) in the Tehuacán Valley and La Mixteca Baja, Mexico. Economic Botany 51: 279-292. CHACÓN S., M.I., B. PICKERSGILL & D.G. DEBOUCK. 2005. Domestication patterns in common bean (Phaseolus vulgaris L.) and the origin of the Mesoamerican and Andean cultivated races. Theoretical and Applied Genetics 110: 432-444. CHACÓN S., M.I., B. PICKERSGILL, D.G. DEBOUCK & J. SALVADOR ARIAS. 2007. Phylogeographic analysis of the chloroplast DNA variation in wild common bean (Phaseolus vulgaris L.). Plant Systematics and Evolution 266: 175-195. PICKERSGILL, B. 1969a. The archaeological record of chili peppers (Capsicum spp.) and the sequence of plant domestication in Peru. American Antiquity 34: 54-61. - 1969b. The domestication of chili peppers, in P.J. Ucko & G.W. Dimbleby (ed.) The domestication and exploitation of plants and animals: 443-450. London: Duckworth. - 1977. Taxonomy and the origins and evolution of cultivated plants in the New World. Nature 268: 591-595. Pig: Domestication - 2007. Domestication of plants in the Americas: insights from Mendelian and molecular genetics. Annals of Botany 100: 925-940. - 2009. Domestication of plants revisited – Darwin to the present day. Botanical Journal of the Linnean Society 161: 203-212. Pig: Domestication Linus Girdland Flink Earth Sciences Department, Natural History Museum, London, UK Basic Species Information Pigs belong to the genus Sus, the family Suidae, and the order Artiodactyla, which are even-toed ungulates (hoofed mammals). Unlike other domestic ungulates such as sheep, goats, cattle, and llamas, pigs are opportunistic omnivores that feed primarily by rooting and scavenging. Wild pigs easily adapt to new environments and inhabit a wide variety of habitats and ecosystems (Groves & Grubb 1993). Other common names for pig include swine and hog: Boar: male pig Sow: female pig Piglet: baby pigs The common domestic pig is a domesticated form of the Eurasian wild boar (Sus scrofa sp. Linnaeus, 1758). Sus scrofa sp. is divided into four distinct groups (the Western, Indian, Eastern, and Indonesian/Sundaic races) and consists of up to 17 subspecies (Groves & Grubb 1993). S. scrofa is one of the most widespread and numerous mammals in Eurasia, and its natural geographic range covers most of the Eurasian continent stretching from West and Central Europe (including Scandinavia and the UK, where it has been reintroduced after extinction) and North Africa in the West to Eastern Siberia, Malaysia, and the Indonesian Islands in the East (Fig. 1) (Groves & Grubb 1993). Feral or wild pigs are often found outside the native range of S. scrofa as a consequence of Pig: Domestication 5939 P Pig: Domestication, Fig. 1 A simplified depiction of the native distribution of S. scrofa (light gray) across Eurasia (Redrawn from Groves & Grubb (1993) and Larson et al. (2011)). Uppercase letters depict the two major centers of independent pig domestication in Eastern Anatolia and East Asia (A and B, respectively). Lowercase letters (c–h) indicate putative domestication centers where it remains unclear to which degree domestication was independent (c: Europe, d: Italy, e: South Asia, f: Peninsular Southeast Asia, g: Southern Yunnan Province, Northern Vietnam, Northern Laos, h: Lanyu off the coast of Taiwan). Thick dashed lines highlight the four major groups of S. scrofa subspecies and their approximate geographic distribution. Thin dashed lines across Central Asia depict an area where S. scrofa is rare or absent human agency (translocations of wild or domestic pigs). Large feral pig populations are particularly common in South and North America (where it is known as the razorback), Papua New Guinea, New Zealand, Australia, Sardinia, and Corsica (Albarella et al. 2009). Domestic pigs display a large variety of morphological and behavioral traits compared to their wild predecessor. The most prominent characteristics include changes in the reproductive cycle, reduced brain size, floppy ears, shortening of the snout and tooth-row, general reduction in size (although both giant and dwarf variants occur), a large variety of coat colors, wavy and curly hair (see the curly coated pig breed Mangalitsa), and rolled or curly tails (Groves 1999; Albarella et al. 2009). Morphological changes in teeth and long bones are good markers for identifying domestication in archaeozoological materials. Measurements of the M2 and M3 are particularly useful for telling apart wild and domestic pigs (Albarella et al. 2009). The relationship between humans and pigs extends back more than 10,000 years (Larson et al. 2011). Many pig populations and especially prehistoric ones are difficult to define as either fully domesticated or completely wild. This is due to the fact that humans have managed and controlled morphologically and P P 5940 behaviorally wild populations and kept domestic pigs under varying degrees of control since at least the Early Holocene (Albarella et al. 2009; Larson et al. 2011). Modern anthropological data from Papua New Guinea reveal that humans both manage and control both wild and domestic populations simultaneously. The morphological and biometric differences between these populations have been substantially reduced because people often breed their domestic pigs with wild boar (Redding & Rosenberg 1998). Despite methodological difficulties, archaeological and genetic data clearly demonstrate that pig domestication occurred independently in at least two major geographic regions: West Eurasia and East Asia (Fig. 1) (Larson et al. 2005), though pigs may have been domesticated up to nine times across Eurasia during the Holocene (Fig. 1) (Larson et al. 2011). The extent to which these domestication processes were truly independent, and to which extent they represent wild-domestic hybridization, remains uncertain (Larson et al. 2011). Pig domestication was integral to the Neolithic revolution. The earliest archaeozoological evidence of pig domestication in West Eurasia comes from several archaeological sites in the Near East and dates to approximately 10,000 BP (Fig. 1) (Larson et al. 2007). Archaeozoological and genetic data show that domestic pigs possessing genetic signatures previously endemic to the Near East were introduced to Europe at least 7,500 BP. Once introduced to Europe, local domestication or extensive introgression gradually replaced the genetic signature from the Near East with those of the local European wild boar. The introgression appears to have been widespread as domestic pigs possessing haplotypes endemic to Italy and the northern Adriatic coast appear in the archaeological record subsequent to the earliest introduction from the Near East (Larson et al. 2005; Larson et al. 2007). In East Asia, archaeozoological and genetic data reveal complex patterns of local domestication. The earliest evidence of pig domestication comes from archaeological sites along the Yellow River (and to some extent the Yangtze Pig: Domestication River) in Central China dated to approximately 10,000–9,000 BP. Unlike the patterns of genetic turnover in Europe and the Near East, ancient and modern genetic data suggests long-term genetic continuity between early and modern domestic pigs (Larson et al. 2010; Larson et al. 2011). The remaining putative domestication centers (Fig. 1) have been identified primarily through modern genetics (but also through the combination of geometric morphometrics and genetics). In many cases, modern genetic data reveal unique genetic signatures possessed by both local domestic pigs and local wild boar (Larson et al. 2010). These include several locations in Europe (see above), Peninsular Southeast Asia, and surrounding areas in southern China, Northern Vietnam and Northern Laos, South Asia (Indian subcontinent), and the Lanyu islet off the coast of Taiwan. Until ancient DNA becomes readily available from these locations, the demographic history of these populations remains hypothetical (Larson et al. 2011). Cross-References ▶ Darwin, Charles R. ▶ Genetics of Animal Domestication: Recent Advances References ALBARELLA, U., K. DOBNEY & P. ROWLEY-CONWY. 2009. Size and shape of the Eurasian wild boar (Sus scrofa), with a view to the reconstruction of its Holocene history. Environmental Archaeology 14(2): 103-136. GROVES, C. 1999. The advantages and disadvantages of being domesticated. Perspectives in Human Biology 4(1): 1-12. GROVES, C. & P. GRUBB. 1993. Eurasian Suids Sus and Babyrousa, in W.L.R. Oliver (ed.) Pigs, peccaries, and hippos: status, survey and conservation action plan: 107-121. Gland: International Union for the Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources. Species Survival Commission. LARSON, G., K. DOBNEY, U. ALBARELLA, M. FANG, L. MATISOO-SMITH, J. ROBINS, S. LOWDEN, H. FINLAYSON, T. BRAND, E. WILLERSLAV, P. ROWLEY-CONWY, L. ANDERSSON & A. COOPER. 2005. Worldwide phylogeography of wild boar reveals multiple centers of domestication. Science 307: 1618-1621. Pigeon Pea: Origins and Development LARSON, G., U. ALBARELLA, K. DOBNEY, P. ROWLEY-CONWY, J. SCHIBLER, A. TRESSET, J.-D. VIGNE, C. J. EDWARDS, A. SCHLUMBAUM, A. DINU, A. BĂLĂÇSESCU, G. DOLMAN, A. TAGLIACOZZO, N. MANASERYAN, P. MIRACLE, L. VAN WIJNGAARDEN-BAKKER, M. G. MASSETI, D. BRADLEY & A. COOPER. 2007. Ancient DNA, pig domestication, and the spread of the Neolithic into Europe. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the USA 104: 15276–15281. LARSON, G., R. LIU, X. ZHAO, J. YUAN, D. FULLER, L. BARTON, K. DOBNEY, Q. FAN, Z. GU, X.-H. LIU, Y. LUO, P. LV, L. ANDERSSON & N. LI. 2010. Patterns of East Asian pig domestication, migration, and turnover revealed by modern and ancient DNA. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the USA 107: 7686-91. LARSON, G., T. CUCCHI & K. DOBNEY. 2011. Genetic aspects of pig domestication, in M.-F. Rothschild & A. Ruvinsky (ed.) The genetics of the pig: 14-37. Oxon: CAB International. REDDING, R. & M. ROSENBERG. 1998. Ancestral pigs: a New (Guinea) model for pig domestication in the Near East. MASCA Research Papers in Science and Archaeology 15: 65–76. 5941 P PETERS, J., D. HELMER, A. VON DEN DRIESCH & M. SAÑA SEGUI. 1999. Early animal husbandry in the northern Levant. Paléorient 25(2): 27–48. PETERS, J., A. VON DEN DRIESCH & D. HELMER. 2005. The upper Euphrates-Tigris basin: cradle of agropastoralism? in J.-D. Vigne, J. Peters & D. Helmer (ed.) The first steps of animal domestication: new archaeological approaches: 96-124. Oxford: Oxbow Books. REDDING, R. 2005. Breaking the mold: a consideration of variation and evolution in animal domestication, in J.-D. Vigne, J. Peters & D. Helmer (ed.) The first steps of animal domestication: new archaeological approaches: 41-49. Oxford: Oxbow Books. ROSENBERG, M., R. W. REDDING, R. NESBITT & B. L. PEASNALL. 1998. Hallan Çemi, pig husbandry, and post-pleistocene adaptations along the TaurusZagros Arc (Turkey). Paléorient 24: 25-41. VIGNE, J.-D., A. ZAZZO, J.-F. SALIÈGE, F. POPLIN, J. GUILAINE & A. SIMMONS. 2009. Pre-Neolithic wild boar management and introduction to Cyprus more than 11,400 years ago. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the USA 106: 16135-8. Further Reading CUCCHI, T., A. HULME-BEAMAN, J. YUAN & K. DOBNEY. 2010. Early Neolithic pig domestication at Jiahu, Henan Province, China: clues from molar shape analyses using geometric morphometric approaches. Journal of Archaeological Science 38: 11-22. DINU A., D. MEIGGS, A. BALASESCU, A. BORONEANT, D. A. SOFICARU & N. MIRITOIU. 2006. On men and pigs: were pigs domesticated at Mesolithic iron gates of the Danube? Part one: teeth metrics. Studii de Preistorie 3: 77–98. ERVYNCK, A., H. HONGO, K. DOBNEY & R. MEADOW. 2001. Born free? New evidence for the status of Sus scrofa at Neolithic Cayönü Tepesi (southeastern Anatolia, Turkey). Paléorient 27(2): 47-73. GROVES, C. 1981. Ancestors for the pigs: taxonomy and phylogeny of the genus Sus (Technical Bulletin 3). Canberra: Department of Prehistory, Research School of Pacific Studies Australian National University; SOCPAC Printery. JING, Y. & R. FLAD. 2002. Pig domestication in ancient China. Antiquity 76: 724-732. LARSON, G., T. CUCCHI, M. FUJITA, E. MATISOO-SMITH, J. ROBINS, A. ANDERSON, B. ROLETT, M. SPRIGGS, G. DOLMAN, T. H. KIM, N. T. D. THUY, E. RANDI, M. DOHERTY, R. A. DUE, R. BOLLT, T. DJUBIANTONO, B. GRIFFIN, M. INTOH, E. KEANE, P. KIRCH, K. T. LI, M. MORWOOD, L. M. PEDRINA, P. PIPER, R. J. RABETT, P. SHOOTER, G. VAN DEN BERGH, E. WEST, S. WICKLER, J. YUAN, A. COOPER & K. DOBNEY. 2007. Phylogeny and ancient DNA of Sus provides insights into Neolithic expansion in Island Southeast Asia and Oceania. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the USA 104: 4834–4839. Pigeon Pea: Origins and Development Eleanor Kingwell-Banham and Dorian Q. Fuller Institute of Archaeology, University College London, London, UK Basic Species Information Pigeon pea (Cajanus cajan L. Millsp.), also known as toor, red gram, Congo pea, no-eye pea, kadios, and tropical green pea, is a legume grown in tropical and semitropical regions across the Old and New Worlds. While New World cultivation is relatively recent, pigeon pea is a traditional crop of South Asia and western and central Africa and an African diaspora in the Caribbean. It is grown as a food and/or fodder crop and has additional use as a green manure crop. Pigeon pea can grow up to around 4 m in height. It is a drought-tolerant crop and can grow with less than 300 mm annual rainfall due to its long tap roots, although it prefers P P 5942 600–1,000 mm. The ideal temperature range for pigeon pea is 18–30  C; however it can resist temperatures over 35  C. It is therefore a crop particularly suited to the drier tropics. It can be grown at altitudes of up to approximately 2,000 m, as long as the temperature is not too low. The plant takes between 6 and 11 months to reach maturity usually, but some newer varieties take only 3–4 months. Pigeon pea is rarely grown as a primary crop and is often cultivated alongside grain crops such as millet, sorghum, or rice (Kachroo & Arif 1970). The crop can be harvested as either green pods, which can be used as fresh vegetables, or dry, just before the mature pods shatter. Rather than being fully non-dehiscent, domesticated forms have delayed dehiscence. Harvesting dry pods tends to be done with a sickle in large areas of both Asia and Africa. The plant is then left to dry further in the sun before threshing is carried out. It is then winnowed and the clean peas are collected (Fuller & Harvey 2006). This simple process means that the peas are less likely to appear in the archaeological record than crops which require extended processing sequences. Splitting the peas, however, may increase their chances of preservation as waste from milling (including fractured peas) may be burnt. Split pigeon peas are a popular Pigeon Pea: Origins and Development, Fig. 1 Line drawings of pigeon pea pod and seed, clockwise from top left: pod; basal view showing hilum, including internal anatomy such as distinctive plumule; lateral view with protruding strophiole of hilum visible above; and cross section showing embryo plumule shaded Pigeon Pea: Origins and Development pulse in India, used to make toor dal. Aside from its use as a food crop, the plant can be used as a host for lac-producing scale insects (Krishna 2010). Lac, a red resinous substance which can be used as a dye or as a varnish, is predominantly produced in South and Southeast Asia. Major Domestication Traits Identification of pigeon pea seeds can be quite straightforward. The split peas often show a distinctive apostrophe-shaped shoot bud within the embryo (Fig. 1). Whole peas range in shape, from more rounded to fairly square, but all tend to be flat on the hilum end. The distinction between wild and domesticated peas is difficult. However, wild peas tend to be slightly smaller and flatter than the domestic species. In addition, wild species have a greatly increased appearance of a raised ring around the hilum (Fuller & Harvey 2006). Timing and Tracking Domestication Pigeon pea was domesticated from C. cajanifolia, populations of which occur across eastern Pigeon Pea: Origins and Development 5943 P P Pigeon Pea: Origins and Development, Fig. 2 Distribution map of wild Cajanus cajnifolia together with archaeobotanical finds of pigeon pea in India. The location of wild pigeon pea at the southern margins of the wild rice zone are indicated, as this may suggest domestication by early rice cultivators in eastern India. Site names abbreviated: Bk Bhokardan (Early Historic, 300 BCE–CE 300), Bg Bhagimohari (Iron Age, 1000–300 BCE), Gp Gopalpur (Late Neolithic, 1500–1200 BCE), HLR Hallur (Late Neolithic, 1500–1200 BCE), PKL Piklihal (Late Neolithic, 1500–1200 BCE), PDM Peddamudiyam (Late Neolithic, 1500–1200 BCE), SGK Sanganakallu (Late Neolithic, 1500–1200 BCE), Tg Tuljapur Garhi (Chalcolithic, 1500–1200 BCE) Peninsular India (Fig. 2; see discussion in Fuller & Harvey 2006; Kassa et al. 2012). While reported finds of pigeon pea are few and far between in India, “Cajanus sp.” peas have been identified at Tuljapur Garhi and Sanganakallu in the Deccan Plateau and date to 1500–1000 BCE (Fuller et al. 2004). These sites are situated in an area with no wild populations of Cajanus, suggesting that these finds derive from domesticated crop plants. Direct dates for Cajanus peas come from Gopalpur and Golbai Sasan, Orissa; the dates of 1400–1300 BCE are the earliest for pigeon pea and come from sedentary settlement sites with established agriculture (Harvey et al. 2006). The natural distribution of the wild progenitor of pigeon pea includes Orissa, P 5944 suggesting that the pea may have been domesticated there. Pigeon pea appears to be a relatively late domesticate in terms of global agricultural history, at around 1500 BCE. Recent archaeobotanical research in southern Thailand (see Castillo & Fuller 2010) indicates that like other pulses of Indian origin, this species arrived in mainland Southeast Asia, perhaps by sea trade links, before 2,000 years ago (C. Castillo, unpublished data). Cross-References ▶ Agriculture: Definition and Overview ▶ Archaeobotany of Early Agriculture: Macrobotany ▶ Domestication: Definition and Overview ▶ Domestication Syndrome in Plants ▶ Genetics of Early Plant Domestication: DNA and aDNA ▶ Plant Domestication and Cultivation in Archaeology ▶ Plant Processing Technologies in Archaeology References CASTILLO, C. & D.Q. FULLER. 2010. Still too fragmentary and dependent upon chance? Advances in the study of early Southeast Asian archaeobotany, in B. Bellina, E.A. Bacus, O. Pryce & J. Weissman Christie (ed.) 50 years of archaeology in Southeast Asia: essays in honour of Ian Glover: 91-111. Bangkok/London: River Books. FULLER, D.Q. & E. HARVEY. 2006. The archaeobotany of Indian pulses. Environmental Archaeology 11(2): 219246. FULLER, D.Q., R. KORISETTAR, P.C. VENKATASUBBAIAH & M.K. JONES. 2004. Early plant domestications in southern India: some preliminary archaeobotanical results. Vegetation History and Archaeobotany 13: 115–29. HARVEY, E.L., D.Q. FULLER, R.K. MOHANTY & B. MOHANTA. 2006. Early agriculture in Orissa: some archaeobotanical results and field observations on the Neolithic. Man and Environment 31(2): 21-32. KACHROO, P. & M. ARIF. (ed.) 1970. Pulse crops of India. New Delhi: Indian Council for Agricultural Research. KASSA, M.T., R.V. PENMETSA, N. CARRASQUILLA-GARCIA, B.K. SARMA, S. DATTA et al. 2012. Genetic patterns of domestication in pigeonpea (Cajanus cajan (L.) Millsp.) and wild Cajanus relatives. PLoS ONE 7(6): e39563. doi: 10.1371/journal.pone.0039563. Pigeons: Domestication KRISHNA, K.R. 2010. Agro-ecosystems of South India: nutrient dynamics, ecology and productivity. Boca Raton: Universal Publishers. Pigeons: Domestication M. Thomas P. Gilbert1 and Michael D. Shapiro2 1 Centre for GeoGenetics, University of Copenhagen, Copenhagen, Denmark 2 Department of Biology, University of Utah, Salt Lake City, UT, USA Basic Species Information Domesticated from the rock pigeon (Columba livia), the domestic pigeon is an Old World pigeon that, along with over 300 other pigeon and dove species, comprises the family Columbidae, in the order Columbiformes. Although fossil evidence suggests that rock pigeons evolved in Southern Asia, today the natural habitats of the wild rock pigeon are open and semi-open environments across Europe, North Africa, and Western Asia, with a preference for cliffs and rock ledges for breeding. Domestic pigeons, however, and their feral descendants have spread across all permanently inhabited regions of the world. Pigeons exhibit variations in more traits than any other bird species (Price 2002). Although first domesticated as a source of food, the later spread of the chicken diminished their importance and thus most domestication traits present in modern birds were explicitly selected for exhibition, or to improve racing speed and homing ability. As a result, the different breeds show dramatic variations in craniofacial structures, color and pattern of plumage pigmentation, feather placement and structure, number and size of axial and appendicular skeletal elements, vocalizations, and flight behaviors (Figs. 1 and 2). This variation is so great that Charles Darwin, the father of modern evolutionary thought, noted that based on morphology alone, a taxonomist might be tempted to classify different breeds as completely Pigeons: Domestication 5945 P Pigeons: Domestication, Fig. 1 Variations in body shape, posture, and plumage color among domestic pigeon breeds. (a) English trumpeter. (b) Brunner pouter. (c) Taganrog tumbler. (d) Starling. (e) Chinese owl. (f) Italian Owl. (Also see Fig. 2c. Photo credit: M.D. Shapiro) P different genera (Darwin 1868). Despite their remarkable divergence, pigeon breeds are so obviously unified in their descent from a single ancestral species, that Darwin used them as a key example to illustrate his ground-breaking ideas about natural selection. In particular, he saw pigeons as a striking exemplar of how continual selection can lead to significant, and rapid, morphological and behavioral variations from a single ancestral type (Darwin 1859). Although pigeons are among the earliest domestic birds and one of the earliest domestic animals (Hansell 1998), relatively little is known about their initial domestication. The rock pigeon today consists of many subspecies spread across Eurasia and North Africa, but exactly which subspecies was the ancestor of domestics, when, where, and how many times domestication occurred, and how domestics spread over the majority of their history are largely unknown. Most of the available information comes from written accounts rather than archaeological remains, probably due to both the problem of morphologically discriminating between wild rock pigeons and the earliest ferals and domestic strains, and their relatively fragile bones, which could bias against long-term survival in the archaeological record. P 5946 Pigeons: Domestication Pigeons: Domestication, Fig. 2 Variations in other traits among domestic pigeon breeds. (a, b) Extreme beak differences between the Scandaroon (a) and Old German owl (b) breeds. The Old German owl also has a crest of reversed feathers on the back of its head, a trait present in many domestic breeds but not in the ancestral rock pigeon. (c) Fantail breed with supernumerary and elevated tail feathers. (d) Cropper breed with a greatly enlarged and inflated crop, an outpocketing of the esophagus. (e, f) Variation in epidermal structures on the lower hind limb of domestic pigeon breeds. Feathers grow from the skin of the tarsus and foot of some breeds (e), while most breeds retain the ancestral trait of scales on the lower limb. (Photo credits: M.D. Shapiro (a and c-f) and S.A. Stringham (b)) Pigeons are first mentioned in Mesopotamian records over 5,000 years ago, and are documented in most subsequent developed cultures of the region (Johnson & Janiga 1995). The pigeon played a range of important roles in ancient cultures, including messenger, food, pet, religious icon, medicine, and navigation aid. We also know that, in some cultures, the scale of their domestication was immense – ancient Egyptians retained massive populations (as they did with other Pigeons: Domestication domesticates such as cats and dogs), sacrificing as many as tens of thousands in single ceremonies. More recently, Akbar of India regularly traveled with a menagerie of thousands of pigeons. As with other domesticated animals (e.g., dogs and cats), interest in fancy breeds increased in the eighteenth century and continues today. In contrast to the paucity of information about the earliest phase of their domestication, their relatively recent interest to breeders and hobbyists provides historical accounts that help trace the origins of modern breeds. Nevertheless, the diversification of domestic pigeons has received surprisingly little attention from a genetics perspective although recently Stringham et al. (2012) analyzed microsatellites from a broad sample of domestic breeds and found that while it was not possible to recover a well-resolved phylogeny describing the relationships among breeds, pigeons can be loosely subdivided into two ancestral clusters. Furthermore, while pigeons exhibit substantial genetic differentiation at the breed level, a phylogeny was difficult to resolve probably due to the reticular history of many breeds. As with other domesticates such as dogs and chickens, pigeon breeds were (and are) continually hybridized throughout their history in order to modify or add traits. Each of the two ancestral clusters encompasses remarkably different morphologies, with the first principally containing the pouters and croppers, fantails, and mane pigeons, and the second consisting predominantly of the tumblers (the most breed rich group) as well as the owl, wattle, and homing breeds (the latter containing the modern racing homer pigeon, which itself is a hybrid of several ancient breeds). No discussion of domestic pigeons is complete without mentioning their feral descendants – feral pigeon populations are found in almost all human inhabited locations and, in terms of numbers, represent one of the world’s most successful feral animals. In North Africa and Western Asia, feral populations are probably as old as domesticates themselves. The natural homing response of pigeons would have enabled domestics to be released to fly free during the day before returning to man-made lofts, thus providing plenty of 5947 P opportunity for birds to go feral. The extent of this feralization has been so great, and the opportunities for hybridization between domestic and free-living populations so numerous, that truly wild rock pigeons might be on the verge of genotypic extinction. The chronic genetic contamination of wild populations greatly complicates attempts at resolving exactly when, and where, the original domestication processes occurred. In other regions, the feralization is likely contemporaneous with the introduction of the domestic breeds. For example, pigeons were introduced 400 years ago in North America by European colonizers. In contrast to the tremendous morphological variations observed among pigeon breeds, the morphology of feral pigeons is remarkably homogenous, with close similarities to racing breeds. Genetic analyses of some feral populations support this association, with feral and racing pigeons being only minimally genetically differentiated (Stringham et al. 2012). This is not surprising given the widespread global interest in racing pigeons, often over long distances and with release from locations unfamiliar to the birds. Racing birds sometimes do not successfully return to their home lofts, and those that survive likely add to the feral pigeon population and gene pool. P Cross-References ▶ Animal Domestication and Pastoralism: Socio-Environmental Contexts ▶ Domestication: Definition and Overview ▶ Genetics of Animal Domestication: Recent Advances References DARWIN, C. 1859. On the origin of species by means of natural selection. London: John Murray. - 1868. The variation of animals and plants under domestication, Volume 1. London: John Murray. HANSELL, J. 1998. The pigeon in history. Bath: Millstream Books. JOHNSON, R.F. & M. JANIGA. 1995. Feral pigeons. Oxford: Oxford University Press. P 5948 PRICE, T.D. 2002. Domesticated birds as a model for the genetics of speciation by sexual selection. Genetica 116: 311-27. STRINGHAM, S.A., E.E. MULROY, J. XING, D. RECORD, M.W. GUERNSEY, J.T. ALDENHOVEN, E.J. OSBORNE & M.D. SHAPIRO. 2012. Divergence, convergence and the ancestry of feral populations in the domestic rock pigeon. Current Biology 22: 302-8. Further Reading SHAPIRO, M.D., Z. KRONENBERG, L. CAI, E.T. DOMYAN, H. PAN, M. CAMPBELL, H. TAN, C.D. HUFF, H. HU, A.I. VICKREY, S.C.A NIELSEN, S.A. STRINGHAM, H. HU, E. WILLERSLEV, M.T.P. GILBERT, M. YANDELL, G. ZHANG, & J. WANG. 2013. Genomic diversity and evolution of the head crest in the rock pigeon. Science 339: 1063-7. Pigment Analysis in Archaeology Rachel S. Popelka-Filcoff School of Chemical and Physical Sciences, Flinders University, Adelaide, SA, Australia Introduction Pigments are a common decorative component found in many archaeological and cultural contexts from around the world. The term “pigment” can be applied to materials that are used to color. Pigment analysis provides data that are valuable in interpreting cultural heritage. Definition Pigment analysis has been applied to a variety of materials, including pigments, paints, dyes, and inks. The color properties can arise from either inorganic (mineral pigments) or organic (dyes) materials or, in some cases, a combination of both. Depending on the chemical composition of the pigment and its binder, a variety of destructive and nondestructive techniques can be used to analyze the pigment. Pigment Analysis in Archaeology Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples The analysis of pigment materials has provided an important venue for understanding the cultural heritage as well as the technical qualities of the material itself. Pigments are found in rock art, frescoes, fabric, ceramic slips, manuscripts, body decoration, and virtually the majority of cultural heritage material categories. Pigment analysis allows insights into the material composition of pigments, which facilitates a more comprehensive understanding of pigment technologies and application processes. In addition, chemical analysis provides insights into the origins of the original source materials. The statistical analysis of samples from sources and objects can provide information on the cultural exchange of pigment materials. In both cases, the appropriate analytical method must be chosen in terms of both the limitations of the technology as well as the potentially destructive effects to the cultural material. For example, a mass spectrometry study of organic components would not be appropriate to analyze the inorganic compounds in pigments. In addition, the resulting data must be interpreted carefully for both cultural context and scientific value. This entry covers some methods most commonly encountered in the literature; however, there are many more analytical techniques utilized for pigment analysis and many authors apply a combination of techniques toward understanding specific cases. In the most ancient contexts, pigments refer to inorganic minerals that are easy to mine and prepare artwork and cultural application. An example of this from the earliest human societies is ochre (Fe-oxide-based minerals) for rock art pictographs (Henshilwood et al. 2001). As a whole, ochre is used nearly universally by early cultures in a variety of applications from burial contexts to paintings. This continues into the present. Other ancient pigments included the uses of charcoal or soot for contrast in artwork using black lines and designs. Later Mediterranean and European cultures added to mineral palettes with the addition of pigments such as cinnabar (HgS) and white lead [(PbCO3)2 · Pb(OH)2]. Pigment Analysis in Archaeology During the Renaissance, pigments such as Naples yellow [Pb(SbO3)2/Pb3(Sb3O4)2] and ultramarine (Na8-10Al6Si6O24S2-4) were introduced. In the Americas, Maya Blue (a mixture of indigo and palygorskite clay) was used extensively since about 800 CE. until the sixteenth century. With various technological advances since the early nineteenth century, new pigments based on cobalt and chromium were developed (such as cobalt blue [CoAl2O4] and chrome yellow [PbCrO4]). Other organic-based pigments were also derived in the twentieth century, although these and other modern pigments since the nineteenth century are of interest to archaeology and conservation more so for detecting forgeries or for conservation of archaeological examples. One of the historic challenges of pigment analysis is the destructive nature of sampling, whether it is physical or chemical. In many cases, the need for further data and information necessitates the destruction of a small amount of pigment sampled by a skilled conservator, and the data obtained outweighs the insignificant damage to the object. In other cases, sampling is not possible for a variety of reasons, and analysis is limited only to nondestructive techniques. In the majority of cases, if nondestructive techniques are available and provide the same quality or quantity of data, these methods are preferred, but they are not always applicable due to the complexity of the object. For techniques such as neutron activation analysis (NAA), or various forms of mass spectrometry (MS), a small sample in the order of milligrams is required. Other techniques such as Raman spectroscopy can be considered non-destructive provided the entire sample can fit into the instrumentation (for instance a microscope stage) and additional sampling is not necessary. Recent technology in spectroscopic techniques such as Raman and IR spectroscopy has allowed portable instrumentation with fiber-optic probes that can provide data on pigment composition without contact with the object. Many museums and archaeological expeditions also have been using handheld portable Xray (PXRF) instrumentation that provides qualitative information on elemental composition of the pigments and substrate, depending on the 5949 P thickness and composition of the pigment (Frahm & Doonan forthcoming). Quantitative analysis of pigments by portable instrumentation is often hindered by surface effects and nonuniform coverage of pigments, as well as the shape of the original object. Under controlled conditions, these effects can be minimized for quantitative analyses. Raman spectroscopy has found significant advantages in pigment identification due to its nondestructive qualities, while also providing reproducible data with high sensitivity. Given the appropriate equipment, the analyses can also be performed in situ, which is a significant advantage in the museum or archaeological site context. L. Burgio and R.J.H. Clark have published significantly in this area, primarily on European works, but also on objects from stuccos, papyri pigments, and Asian manuscripts. The authors have also compiled a comprehensive database of spectra of FT-Raman spectra of interest to cultural heritage (Burgio & Clark 2001). Edwards and Jaan (2009) recently published on the applications of Raman spectroscopy to archaeological contexts, including several chapters that were concerned with pigment applications. XRF (X-ray fluorescence spectroscopy) instrumentation has been used increasingly worldwide for the elemental identification of pigments. The majority of applications are of PXRF (portable X-ray fluorescence spectroscopy) through the use of a handheld instrument. Bonizzoni et al. (2008) recently completed a study to evaluate the advantages and limitations of investigating pigment layering using PXRF and UV-visible spectroscopy. This study determined that a combination of methods was effective for the identification of two layers, but in examples with more than one layer, qualitative data could be used on elemental identification. Another recent study investigated Hellenistic plasters by PXRF, among other methods (Aquilia et al. 2012). While the majority of studies on pigments have investigated composition, some recent works have also studied pigments as indicators of cultural exchange in a similar manner to materials such as obsidian and ceramics. These studies P P 5950 are based around the framework that trace compositions of the materials are indicators of the origins of the pigment materials. Duwe and Neff (2007) use laser ablation inductively coupled mass spectrometry (LA-ICP-MS) to investigate the recipes and exchange of paints on Pueblo ceramics from Arizona. This concept has also been applied to the provenance of ochre pigments in North America and Australia (Eiselt et al. 2011; Popelka-Filcoff et al. 2012). In addition to the identification of pigment components, the identification of the pigment binder has also proven useful in archaeological studies. Binders often contain additional information on the pigment application technique as well as information on cultural trends. Separation techniques for the identification of binders include varying forms of gas chromatography as the most common technique (Casoli et al. 1996; Bocchini & Traldi 1998). As with other analytical studies, methodologies from other fields have been adapted for cultural heritage use as in the use of immune-detection of proteins in binders (Cartechini et al. 2010). While the identification of pigments often reveals information on the pigment composition, other techniques can provide data on the age of the pigments. In the case of prehistoric pigments made of soot (carbon based), in some cases, the carbon in the pigment can be dated. Originally developed at Texas A&M University, this technique uses sub-milligram quantities of carbon to date rock art, for example (Armitage et al. 2001). In addition to these relatively well-established methods, new methodologies from analytical chemistry are finding applications in pigment analysis. A recent example of methodologies adapted from nanotechnology is SERS (surfaceenhanced Raman spectroscopy), where the technique realizes enhanced Raman signal through the application of molecules on the pigment surface. The application of SERS to organic dyes has several cultural applications (Casadio et al. 2011). Varying types of mass spectrometry have demonstrated use in pigment analysis: for example, the use of DART (Direct Analysis in Real Time) mass spectrometry for organic dye compounds (Selvius DeRoo & Armitage 2011). Pigment Analysis in Archaeology Pigment analysis by a variety of methods provides data and cultural interpretations of materials from the inorganic, organic, and binder components of pigments from a variety of cultures and applications. While new technologies offer innovative ways to investigate pigments, care must be taken in the application of these methods and in the subsequent interpretation of data and cultural analysis in order to produce a meaningful archaeological science study. Cross-References ▶ Archaeological Chemistry: Definition ▶ Archaeometry: Definition ▶ Dating Techniques in Archaeological Science ▶ Fourier Transform Infrared Spectroscopy (FTIR): Applications in Archaeology ▶ Gas Chromatography-Mass Spectrometry (GC-MS): Applications in Archaeology ▶ Inductively Coupled Plasma-Mass Spectrometry (ICP-MS): Applications in Archaeology ▶ Neutron Activation Analysis (NAA): Applications in Archaeology ▶ Proton-Induced X-Ray Emission Spectroscopy (PIXE): Applications in Archaeology ▶ Provenance Studies in Archaeology ▶ Technological Studies in Archaeological Science ▶ X-Ray Fluorescence (XRF): Applications in Archaeology References AQUILIA, E., G. BARONE, V. CRUPI, F. LONGO, D. MAJOLINO, P. MAZZOLENI & V. VENUTI. 2012. Spectroscopic analyses of Hellenistic painted plasters from 2nd century B.C., Sicily (South Italy). Journal of Cultural Heritage 13: 229-233. ARMITAGE, R.A., J.E. BRADY, A. COBB, J.R. SOUTHON & M. W. ROWE. 2001. Mass spectrometric radiocarbon dates from three rock paintings of known age. American Antiquity 66: 471-480. BOCCHINI, P. & P. TRALDI. 1998. Organic mass spectrometry in our cultural heritage. Journal of Mass Spectrometry 33: 1053-1062. Pikirayi, Innocent (Historical Archaeology) BONIZZONI, L., S. CAGLIO, A. GALLI & G. POLDI. 2008. A non invasive method to detect stratigraphy, thicknesses and pigment concentration of pictorial multilayers based on EDXRF and vis-RS: in situ applications. Applied Physics A: Materials Science & Processing 92: 203-210. BURGIO, L. & R.J.H. CLARK. 2001. Library of FT-Raman spectra of pigments, minerals, pigment media and varnishes, and supplement to existing library of Raman spectra of pigments with visible excitation. Spectrochimica Acta - Part A Molecular and Biomolecular Spectroscopy 57: 1491-1521. CARTECHINI, L., M. VAGNINI, M. PALMIERI, L. PITZURRA, T. MELLO, J. MAZUREK & G. CHIARI. 2010. Immunodetection of proteins in ancient paint media. Accounts of Chemical Research 43: 867-876. CASADIO, F., M. LEONA, J.R. LOMBARDI. & R. VAN DUYNE. 2011. Identification of organic colorants in fibers, paints, and glazes by surface enhanced Raman spectroscopy. Accounts of Chemical Research 43: 782-791. CASOLI, A., P.C. MUSINI & G. PALLA. 1996. Gas chromatographic-mass spectrometric approach to the problem of characterizing binding media in paintings. Journal of Chromatography A 731: 237-246. DUWE, S. & H. NEFF. 2007. Glaze and slip pigment analyses of Pueblo IV period ceramics from east-central Arizona using time of flight-laser ablation-inductively coupled plasma-mass spectrometry (TOF-LA-ICPMS). Journal of Archaeological Science 34: 403-414. EDWARDS, H.G.M. & L. JAAN. 2009. Raman spectroscopy in art and archaeology: a new light on historical mysteries. Frontiers of Molecular Spectroscopy: 133-173. EISELT, B.S., R.S. POPELKA-FILCOFF, J.A. DARLING & M.D. GLASCOCK. 2011. Hematite sources and archaeological ochres from Hohokam and O’odham sites in central Arizona: an experiment in type identification and characterization. Journal of Archaeological Science 38: 3019-3028. FRAHM, E. & R.C.P. DOONAN. (forthcoming). The technological versus methodological revolution of portable XRF in archaeology. Journal of Archaeological Science. HENSHILWOOD, C.S., J.C. SEALY, R. YATES, K. CRUZ-URIBE, P. GOLDBERG, F.E. GRINE, R.G. KLEIN, C. POGGENPOEL, K. VAN NIEKERK & I. WATTS. 2001. Blombos Cave, Southern Cape, South Africa: preliminary report on the 1992-1999 excavations of the middle stone age levels. Journal of Archaeological Science 28: 421-448. POPELKA-FILCOFF, R., C. LENEHAN, M. GLASCOCK, J. BENNETT, A. STOPIC, J. QUINTON, A. PRING & K. WALSHE. 2012. Evaluation of relative comparator and k0-NAA for characterization of Aboriginal Australian ochre. Journal of Radioanalytical and Nuclear Chemistry 291: 19-24. SELVIUS DEROO, C. & R.A. ARMITAGE. 2011. Direct identification of dyes in textiles by direct analysis in real time-time of flight mass spectrometry. Analytical Chemistry 83: 6924-6928. 5951 P Pikirayi, Innocent (Historical Archaeology) Natalie Swanepoel University of South Africa, Pretoria, South Africa Basic Biographical Information Professor Innocent Pikirayi was born in 1963 in Masvingo, Zimbabwe. He obtained a B.A. (honors) degree in history (1985) and an M.A. in African history (1987) from the University of Zimbabwe, where he was taught by archaeologists such as Peter Garlake and Robert Soper. He combined his interests in history and archaeology in further studies, receiving his Ph.D. in historical archaeology from the University of Uppsala where his dissertation was entitled The Archaeological Identity of the Mutapa State: Towards an Historical Archaeology of Northern Zimbabwe (Pikirayi 1994). Pikirayi began his teaching career in archaeology at the University of Zimbabwe in 1988, attaining the rank of senior lecturer in Archaeology in 2001. In 2004 he joined the staff of Midlands State University (Zimbabwe) as senior lecturer in archaeology and executive dean of the Faculty of Arts. In 2005 he relocated to South Africa to work at the University of Pretoria where, in May 2010, he became a full professor of archaeology and head of department of the Anthropology and Archaeology Department (Pikirayi pers. comm.). Major Accomplishments Pikirayi has made a substantive contribution to the archaeology of the southern African later Iron Age, especially to the archaeology of the Great Zimbabwe period (c. 1290–1450) and the post-Great Zimbabwe or Khami-era (c. 1450–1835). Theoretically, his interest has been in furthering understanding of how sociopolitical complexity originated, developed, and eventually declined at the site of Great Zimbabwe and its surrounds. Pikirayi has published P P 5952 extensively on this both singly (Pikirayi 2001) and in tandem with other Zimbabwean scholars, including a prizewinning Antiquity article in 2008 (Chirikure & Pikirayi 2008). More recently, he has turned his attention to the Mapungubwe State and the factors that may have led to its demise. The regional and spatial contexts of both the Great Zimbabwe and Mapungubwe States are being studied as part of his participation in the larger “Urban Mind” project, led by scholars based at the University of Uppsala (Pikirayi pers. comm.). Pikirayi has long been interested in exploring different aspects of public archaeology (Pikirayi 2006) and the relevance of archaeology and heritage in postcolonial Africa. His participation in the University of Pretoria Mapungubwe Committee, tasked with the repatriation and restitution of cultural and skeletal remains from the site of Mapungubwe, led him to further consider the role of public archaeology and the relevance of archaeological practice to descendant communities in South Africa and to publish his book Tradition, Archaeological Heritage Protection and Communities in the Limpopo Province of South Africa in 2011. He has advanced the field of historical archaeology in the southern African subcontinent in his historical archaeological investigation of the Mutapa State (1450–1900). This work was important not only for yielding valuable data about the post-Great Zimababwe period but also for increasing academic understanding of African-European interactions, colonialism, and conflict. In particular, he used archaeological data to contest written Portuguese accounts of the political status quo in the Mutapa State (Pikirayi 2009). Pikirayi is a specialist in the analysis of archaeological ceramics and has conducted ethno-archaeological research on pottery production, distribution, and use in Swaziland and eastern and northern South Africa and has written on the relationships between group identity and ceramics (Pikirayi 1999, 2007). He has played an important role in furthering cultural heritage management in Zimbabwe serving as vice-president of the International Council Pikirayi, Innocent (Historical Archaeology) on Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS), Zimbabwe, from 1997 to 2003 and as president from 2003 to 2004. During that time he headed up the ICOMOS-Zimbabwe evaluation mission for the nomination of the Matobo Hills to the World Heritage List (Pikirayi pers. comm.). Cross-References ▶ Colonial Encounters, Archaeology of ▶ Modern World: Historical Archaeology ▶ Oral Sources and Oral History ▶ Southern Africa: Historical Archaeology ▶ Zimbabwe: Cultural Heritage Management References CHIRIKURE, S. & I. PIKIRAYI. 2008. Inside and outside the dry stone walls: revisiting the material culture of Great Zimbabwe. Antiquity 82: 976-94. PIKIRAYI, I. 1994. The archaeological identity of the Mutapa State: towards an historical archaeology of northern Zimbabwe. Uppsala: Department of Archaeology and Ancient History. - 1999. Taking southern African ceramic studies into the twenty-first century: a Zimbabwean perspective. African Archaeological Review 16: 185-9. - 2001. The Zimbabwe culture: origins and decline of southern Zambezian states. Walnut Creek; New York; Oxford: AltaMira Press. - 2006. The kingdom, the power and forevermore: Zimbabwe culture in contemporary art and architecture. Journal of Southern African Studies 32: 755-70. - 2007. Ceramics and group identities: towards a social archaeology in southern African Iron Age ceramic studies. Journal of Social Archaeology 7: 286-301. - 2009. Palaces, Feiras and Prazos: an historical archaeological perspective of African-Portuguese contact in northern Zimbabwe. African Archaeological Review 26: 163-85. - 2011. Tradition, archaeological heritage protection and communities in the Limpopo Province of South Africa. Addis Ababa: OSSREA. Further Reading PIKIRAYI, I. 2000. Wars, violence and strongholds: an overview of fortified settlements in northern Zimbabwe. Journal of Peace, Conflict and Military Studies 1: 1-12. - 2006. Gold, black ivory and houses of stone: historical archaeology in Africa, in M. Hall & S. Silliman (ed.) Historical archaeology: 230-250. Oxford: Blackwell. Pikirayi, Innocent (Indigenous Archaeology) 5953 P - 2009. What can archaeology do for society in southern Africa? Historical Archaeology 32: 125-27. PIKIRAYI, I. & G. PWITI. 1999. States, traders and colonists: historical archaeology in Zimbabwe. Historical Archaeology 33: 73-89. Pikirayi, Innocent (Indigenous Archaeology) Ashton Sinamai School of Humanities and Social Sciences, Deakin University, Melbourne, VIC, Australia Basic Biographical Information Born in 1963, Innocent Pikirayi grew up in Zimuto, a district in Masvingo (formerly Victoria) Province of Zimbabwe (Fig. 1). His father was a carpenter in the Public Works Department in the then Rhodesia from which he resigned following the intensification of the liberation war in the late 1970s. His mother was a stay-at-home mum who engaged in subsistence farming and largely saw the children through to school. A practicing Catholic, Innocent Pikirayi is married to Susan Philistus Muzivi, and they have 2 daughters and a son. The fifth born in a family of seven, he attended local schools run by missionaries and later a multiracial school in the same province before heading for the University of Zimbabwe (UZ) for his undergraduate studies where he developed an interest in archaeology. Innocent entered university in 1983, just after Zimbabwe’s independence. Many archaeologists who had worked in Zimbabwe had left after the fall of a Rhodesian government that had declared unilateral independence from the United Kingdom in 1965. There was therefore an urgent need to train indigenous archaeologists who would “correct” the biased archaeology that had developed under a nationalist settler government. He is therefore one of the first indigenous Zimbabweans to receive training in Archaeology. Pikirayi, Innocent (Indigenous Fig. 1 Innocent Pikirayi Archaeology), His encounter with archaeology was at 2nd year level at university (1984), where he had already enrolled as an honors student in history. Two people influenced his decision to take up archaeology: Professor Vella, a classicist from Malta, and Dr. Peter Garlake, whose presence at UZ in 1983 and 1984 is instrumental in his decision to take up archaeology as a career. The subsequent arrival of Robert Soper and Gilbert Pwiti at UZ, the introduction of archaeology as a degree, and the SIDA-SAREC-funded research project Urban Origins in Eastern and Southern Africa (coordinated by Uppsala University and the Swedish National Board of Antiquities) saw Innocent Pikirayi embarking on Ph.D. studies in 1988. His doctoral thesis was shaped by this project and resulted in a monograph on the historical archaeology Mutapa State (CE 1450–1900) in northern Zimbabwe. Paul Sinclair from Uppsala University was Innocent’s supervisor and mentor for his Ph.D., which was completed in 1992. Since then, he has embarked on a program of research and publication, focusing on the origins, development and decline of state societies on the Zimbabwe plateau, the development of African ceramic traditions during the last 2000 years, as well as archaeology in contemporary politics and society. Currently, Innocent Pikirayi holds the position of Chair in the Department of Anthropology and Professor in Archaeology at the University of P P 5954 Pretoria, South Africa. In 2009, he was appointed Docent in Archaeology by the Department of Archaeology and Ancient History at Uppsala University. Previously he has worked as a Dean and Senior Lecturer in Archaeology in the Faculty of Arts at Midlands State University in Zimbabwe. He has also worked as Lecturer and Senior Lecturer at the University of Zimbabwe. In 2000 he was a Visiting Commonwealth Fellow and Scholar at the Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford University. He has mentored many of the secondgeneration indigenous archaeologists who have worked and continue to work for the National Museums and Monuments of Zimbabwe (NMMZ) and the two universities teaching archaeology in Zimbabwe, viz, the University of Zimbabwe and Midlands State University. He has worked closely with NMMZ in the development of management plans for Zimbabwe’s World Heritage Sites and played a huge role in the organization of the ICOMOS 14th General Assembly and Scientific Symposium which was held in Victoria Falls in 2003. A jovial character who is always happy to assist peers and students, Professor Pikirayi is highly respected in archaeology circles in his native Zimbabwe, Africa, and the world. Major Accomplishments Professor Pikirayi’s research interests are in the late farming communities of southern Africa. He has published widely and consistently on the Zimbabwe culture as well as on ceramic traditions of southern Africa for the past 25 years. Professor Pikirayi has written and edited books and articles on the rise, development, and decline of the Zimbabwe culture. His major scientific contribution however has been in ceramic studies, and his in that area has illuminated the prehistory of Zimbabwe and southern Africa. Currently, Professor Pikirayi is researching on archaeological and ethnographic ceramics in southern Africa, examining issues in the production, distribution, use, and relationships between ceramic remains and group identity. He has also developed an interest in public archaeology especially in understanding how Pikirayi, Innocent (Indigenous Archaeology) indigenous communities can participate and engage with Archaeology as well as conservation of archaeological sites. Innocent Pikirayi has contributed tremendously to the understanding of the second millennium in Zimbabwe and adjacent regions. His book, The Zimbabwe Culture (Pikirayi 2001) has become one of the most important texts for students studying later farming communities and complex societies of southern Africa. This book combined oral traditions, archaeology, and archival documents to produce a synthesis of the history of Zimbabwe and adjacent areas in the second millennium. The book analyzed new evidence on the origin, development, and decline of an extraordinary culture, the Zimbabwe culture (1050–1850). It also discusses the early Zimbabwe phase of Mapungubwe and shows how it contributed to the development the Great Zimbabwe and Khami phases. The Zimbabwe Culture discusses the later periods in which the latter states had contacts with the Portuguese as well as the colonial interface with the British and other European countries. One of his recent articles (in collaboration with one of his former student, Shadreck Chirikure) on the use of space at Great Zimbabwe was published by Antiquity in 2009 and was judged the best article for the year by the same journal (Chirikure & Pikirayi 2008). Professor Pikirayi has served as a reviewer and advisor for the National Research Foundation, South Africa, and is also an editorial board member for Azania: the Journal of African Archaeological Research and the African Archaeological Review. He was also editorial advisor for the Encyclopedia of Precolonial Africa: Archaeology, History, Language, Cultures, and Environments published by Altamira Press in 1997 and reviewer of the UNESCO General History of Africa volumes which were published in 2010. Cross-References ▶ Pikirayi, Innocent (Historical Archaeology) ▶ Zimbabwe: Cultural Heritage Management ▶ Zimbabwe’s World Heritage Sites Pinnacle Point: Excavation and Survey Methods References CHIRIKURE, S. & I. PIKIRAYI. 2008. Inside and outside the dry stone walls: revisiting the material culture of Great Zimbabwe. Antiquity 82: 1-18. PIKIRAYI, I. 2001. The Zimbabwe culture: origins and decline in southern Zambezian states. Walnut Creek/ New York/Oxford: Altamira. Further Reading LINDAHL, A. & I. PIKIRAYI. 2010. Ceramics and change: an overview of pottery production techniques in northern South Africa and eastern Zimbabwe during the first and second millennium AD. Archaeological and Anthropological Sciences 2(3): 133-49. PIKIRAYI, I. 1993. The archaeological identity of the Mutapa state: towards an historical archaeology of northern Zimbabwe (Studies in African Archaeology 6). Uppsala: Societas Archaeologica Upsaliensis. - 1999. Research trends in the historical archaeology of Zimbabwe, in P.P. A. Funari, M. Hall & S. Jones (ed.). Historical archaeology: back from the edge: 67-84. London. Routledge. - 2006. Gold, black ivory and houses of stone, in M. Hall & S. Silliman (ed.) Historical archaeology (Blackwell Studies in Global Archaeology: A Prospectus). Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. - 2009a. The archaeology of sub-Saharan Africa: an overview, in B. Cunliffe, C. Gosden, & R.A. Joyce (ed.) The Oxford handbook of archaeology: 723-62. Oxford: Oxford University Press. - 2009b. The past within the present: the contemporary uses of Mapungubwe, in S. Tiley-Nel (ed.) Mapungubwe remembered: 250-58. Johannesburg: Chris Van Rensburg Publications Pty (Ltd). Pinnacle Point: Excavation and Survey Methods Simen Oestmo and Curtis W. Marean Institute of Human Origins, School of Human Evolution and Social Change, Arizona State University, Tempe, AZ, USA 5955 P paleoenvironmental, and paleoanthropological record for the south coast of South Africa spanning 400 to 30 ka, a time that spans the origins of modern humans. The African Middle Stone Age (MSA), a Middle and Late Pleistocene stone tool phase, dominates the majority of this time span. The MSA in South Africa has gained increasing attention in debates about the antiquity of modern human behavior; some researchers arguing that the South African evidence suggests an early origin of modern behavior, while others suggesting a late origin. Resolution of these debates relies on two advances: improvements in our theoretical approach and an improvement of the empirical record in Africa. Fieldwork was initiated at Pinnacle Point (Mossel Bay, South Africa) to improve the empirical record (Marean et al. 2004). Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples Strategy The field strategy uses state-of-the-art excavation and survey methods and techniques to obtain precise and accurate data, relying as much as possible on digital data acquisition integrated into 3D models of the “paleoscape.” The paleoscape is a seamless model of land and sea that projects hunter-gatherer food resources at different climate states. We model that paleoscape with integrations of sea level and coastline change joined to species distribution modeling. A specific part of the transdisciplinary strategy is to use speleothem records to generate long, continuous, and tightly dated paleoclimatic and paleoenvironmental sequences for the MSA combined with other techniques (e.g., faunal change, phytoliths, magnetics) that enrich the environmental reconstructions. Introduction The transdisciplinary project centered on Pinnacle Point (the South African Coast Paleoclimate, Paleoenvironment, Paleoecology, and Paleoanthropology Project-SACP4) has as its primary goal to develop an integrated paleoclimate, Survey Method and Program Pedestrian and mountain-climbing reconnaissance techniques revealed sites along the cliffs at Pinnacle Point. Today, wooden staircases and walkways provide access to most of the sites (Fig. 1). We use total stations to map all sites P P 5956 Pinnacle Point: Excavation and Survey Methods Pinnacle Point: Excavation and Survey Methods, Fig. 1 Pinnacle Point landscape. The wooden walkway leads to the entrance of cave PP13B and landscape features, coding all visible features directly to handheld computers using drop-down menus programmed into survey software. Using both RTK GPS and direct total station measurements, all coordinates are translated directly into the South African National Coordinate (SANC) reference system (Marean et al. 2004, 2010). The data is integrated into a GIS using ArcGIS, and a 3D paleoscape model is created. Excavation Methods and Program Our excavation recording system is designed so that every measurement made on-site of artifacts, features, sections, surfaces, and everything else is recorded by total station directly to handheld computer (Fig. 2). Total stations give all finds a 3D provenience, and finds are given a unique barcode number and assigned to a square, quadrant, and stratigraphic unit. Bar code scanners are connected to handheld computers through USB cables, requiring little to no typing of specimen numbers or other observations. This significantly reduces the transcription errors that plague field recording (Dibble et al. 2007). We record both ends of elongated artifacts by total station to calculate orientation and slope of artifacts within stratigraphic aggregates. We use artifact orientation to gain knowledge about site taphonomy (Bernatchez 2010). All non-plotted materials are gently wet sieved with fresh water through a nested 10-3-1.0 mm sieve (Marean et al. 2010). We excavate within 50 cm quadrants within squares, naming them by their bearing: NE, NW, SE, and SW. Excavations within these quadrants are conducted following natural stratigraphic units (StratUnits: layers, features, etc.). These StratUnits are grouped into larger stratigraphic aggregates (layers) in the field and then checked with 3D GIS analysis. All excavator accounts of StratUnits are recorded to forms (supplemented by notebooks) and then typed into a form-based database system. Sediment volume is measured during excavation and sediment samples are taken from every StratUnit. Subsamples of the sediment samples are used to measure magnetic susceptibility (MS) used to identifying evidence for human occupation, mainly due to the use of fire at archaeological sites (Herries & Fisher 2010). Section drawings are created by combining regular graph paper drawing with dense measurements of all stratigraphy and features using a total station directly to handheld computer, which links the section drawing to true grid space. We then digitally rectify all our section drawing and photographs (Bernachez & Marean 2011) to true Pinnacle Point: Excavation and Survey Methods 5957 P Pinnacle Point: Excavation and Survey Methods, Fig. 2 Excavation in progress at cave PP13B (Photographs courtesy of SACP4) P Pinnacle Point: Excavation and Survey Methods, Fig. 3 The inferred vegetation sequence from the Crevice Cave speleothem relative to southern hemisphere temperature change and major phases in the production of stone tools and use of raw materials in the southern Cape of South Africa. (a) The EPICA EDML d18O record (EPICA Community Members, 2006), (b) the Crevice Cave (Pinnacle Point) d13C (green) records with inferred grass regimes, (c) the major changes in stone tool phase, stone tool type, and raw material abundance in the southern Cape, and (d) the raw material abundances at archaeological site PP5-6 (Bar-Matthews et al. 2010: Fig. 11) P 5958 grid space, which allows us to plot on those photographs all artifacts, dating samples, stratigraphic boundaries, and anything else removed from site (Marean et al. 2010). On-site checking of field-acquired data eliminates most potential errors. Analysis Optically stimulated luminescence dating (OSL), TT-OSL, and U-Th dating (also known as uranium series, U-series, 230Th/U) are used to maintain chronological control (Bar-Matthews et al. 2010; Jacobs 2010; Marean et al. 2010). Most OSL ages come from locations where we also conduct micromorphology. Micromorphology significantly enhances our ability to understand sedimentary processes that are potentially problematic for OSL. Pinnacle Point research employs micromorphology regularly, as a foundation to stratigraphic analysis in complex depositional contexts (Marean et al. 2010; Karkanas & Goldberg 2010). We rely heavily on 3D GIS integration of all data and using ages, micromorphology, and stratigraphy to develop “life histories” of the caves (Fig. 3). Assessment of Success Fieldwork at Pinnacle Point has yielded the earliest evidence for human exploitation of marine resources, earliest securely dated use and modification of pigment, early use of bladelet stone tool technology at PP13B by 164 ka, and early evidence for heat treatment of lithics at sites PP13B and PP5–6 (Marean et al. 2007; Brown et al. 2009; Thompson et al. 2010; Watts 2010). We have published, to date, the highest resolution speleothem record for Africa for the MSA for the time span 90–53 ka, which provides us with an unprecedented understanding of changes in rainfall and vegetation (Bar-Matthews et al. 2010). In addition, our tightly collaborative research has allowed us to detect correlations between the coastline distances, strontium isotope ratios in the speleothems, and the abundance of shellfish in coastal sites (Fisher et al. 2010; Jerardino & Marean 2010). We attribute Pinnacle Point: Excavation and Survey Methods a portion of our success to the reliance on digital acquisition of data, which allows fastand high-quality analysis of field data, and the synergy created by our transdisciplinary approach, which allows quick insights that cross the traditional boundaries of science. Cross-References ▶ African Stone Age ▶ Dating Techniques in Archaeological Science ▶ Field Method in Archaeology: Overview ▶ Human Evolution: Theory and Progress ▶ Human Evolution: Use of Fire ▶ Hunter-Gatherers, Archaeology of ▶ Hunter-Gatherer Settlement and Mobility ▶ Hunting and Hunting Landscapes ▶ Out-of-Africa Origins ▶ Lithic Technology, Paleolithic ▶ Island Nation Sites and Rising Sea Levels ▶ Southern and East African Middle Stone Age: Geography and Culture ▶ Stratigraphy in Archaeology: A Brief History References BAR-MATTHEWS, M., C. W. MAREAN, Z. JACOBS, P. KARKANAS, E. C. FISHER, A. I. R. HERRIES, K. BROWN, H. M. WILLIAMS, J. BERNATCHEZ, A. AYALON & P. J. NILSSEN. 2010. A high resolution and continuous isotopic speleothem record of paleoclimate and paleoenvironment from 90 to 53 ka from Pinnacle Point on the south coast of South Africa. Quarternary Science Review 29: 2131-2145. BERNATCHEZ, J. A. 2010. Taphonomic implications of orientation of plotted finds from Pinnacle Point 13B (Mossel Bay, Western Cape Province, South Africa). Journal of Human Evolution 59: 274-288. BERNATCHEZ, J. A. & C. W. MAREAN. 2011. Total station archaeology and the use of digital photography. SAA Archaeological Record 11(3): 16-21. BROWN, K. S., C. W. MAREAN, A. I. R. HERRIES, Z. JACOBS, C. TRIBOLO, D. BRAUN, D. L.ROBERTS, M. C. MEYER & J. BERNATCHEZ. 2009. Fire as an engineering tool of early modern humans. Science 325: 859-862. Piotrovsky, Boris B. DIBBLE, H., C. W. MAREAN & S. P. MCPHERRON. 2007. The use of barcodes in excavation projects. SAA Archaeological Record 7: 33-38. FISHER, E. C., M. BAR-MATTHEWS, A. JERARDINO & C. W. MAREAN. 2010. Middle and late Pleistocene paleoscape modeling along the southern coast of South Africa. Quaternary Science Reviews 29: 1382-1398. HERRIES, A. I. R. & E. C. FISHER. 2010. Multidimensional GIS modeling of magnetic mineralogy as a proxy for fire use and spatial patterning: evidence from the Middle Stone Age Bearing Sea cave of Pinnacle Point 13B (Western Cape, South Africa). Journal of Human Evolution 59: 306-320. JACOBS, Z. 2010. An OSL chronology for the sedimentary deposits from Pinnacle Point Cave 13B - a punctuated presence. Journal of Human Evolution 59: 289-305. JERARDINO, A. & C. W. MAREAN. 2010. Shellfish gathering, marine paleoecology and modern human behavior: perspectives from cave PP13B, Pinnacle Point, South Africa. Journal of Human Evolution 59: 412-424. KARKANAS, P. & P. GOLDBERG. 2010. Site formation processes at Pinnacle Point Cave 13B (Mossel Bay, Western Cape Province, South Africa): resolving stratigraphic and depositional complexities with micromorphology. Journal of Human Evolution 59: 256-273. MAREAN, C. W., M. BAR-MATTHEWS, J. BERNATCHEZ, E. FISHER, P. GOLDBERG, A. I. R. HERRIES, Z. JACOBS, A. JERARDINO, P. KARKANAS, T. MINICHILLO, P. J. NILSSEN, E. THOMPSON, I. WATTS & H. M. WILLIAMS. 2007. Early human use of marine resources and pigment in South Africa during the Middle Pleistocene. Nature 449: 905-908. MAREAN, C. W., M. BAR-MATTHEWS, E. FISHER, P. GOLDBERG, A. HERRIES, P. KARKANAS, P. J. NILSSEN & E. THOMPSON. 2010. The stratigraphy of the Middle Stone Age sediments at Pinnacle Point Cave 13B (Mossel Bay, Western Cape Province, South Africa). Journal of Human Evolution 59: 234-255. MAREAN, C. W., P. J. NILSSEN, K. BROWN, A. JERARDINO & D. STYNDER. 2004. Paleoanthropological investigations of Middle Stone Age sites at Pinnacle Point, Mossel Bay (South Africa): archaeology and hominid remains from the 2000 field season. PaleoAnthropology:14-83. THOMPSON, E., H. M. WILLIAMS & T. MINICHILLO. 2010. Middle and late Pleistocene Middle Stone Age lithic technology from Pinnacle Point 13B (Mossel Bay, Western Cape Province, South Africa). Journal of Human Evolution 59: 358-377. WATTS, I. 2010. The pigments from Pinnacle Point Cave 13B, Western Cape, South Africa. Journal of Human Evolution 59: 392-411. 5959 P Piotrovsky, Boris B. Vladimir I. Ionesov Department of Theory and History of Culture, Samara State Academy of Culture and Arts, Samara, Russia Basic Biographical Information Boris Borisovich Piotrovsky (1908–1990) was a famous Soviet Russian academic, historian, orientalist, and archaeologist who studied the ancient civilizations of Urartu, Nubia, and Scythia. He is well known as a key investigator in the study of the Urartian civilization of the southern Caucasus. Boris B. Piotrovsky’s main works are devoted to the history, culture, and art of the Caucasus and the Ancient East, in particular the states of Urartu, and to questions of the origin and development of the ancient history of Armenian people. For most of his life, Boris Piotrovsky had connections with the State Hermitage Museum in Saint Petersburg. From 1964 until his death, he was director of this museum. Piotrovsky was born in Petersburg in 1908. In 1929, being the student of a last year of historical and linguistic faculty of the Leningrad State University, B. B. Piotrovsky went to work in academy of history of material culture (Institute of Archaeology of the Academy of Sciences), in the sector of language, which academic N.Ya. Marr directed at that time. In 1930, B. B. Piotrovsky graduated from the university, and a year later he began to work in the hermitage as a scientific fellow. Piotrovskyspecialized in the history and archaeology of the Caucasus region, and in the beginning of the 1930s, he began to acquaint himself with Urartian civilization. Thanks to the long-term (from 1939 to 1971) joint excavations of the Academy of Sciences Armenian Soviet Socialist Republic and State Hermitage under the supervisor of B. B. Piotrovsky, the ancient city of Teyshebaini was studied. This P P 5960 site is one of the most interesting and most comprehensively studied monuments of Urartian civilization. From 1953 to 1964 B. B. Piotrovsky was the leader of the Leningrad Department of the Institute of Archeology of Academy of Sciences of the USSR, and in 1964 he became the director of the State Hermitage. He remained in this position for 26 years until his death. Boris Piotrovsky combined scientific activity and administrative work with pedagogical and public work. From 1966 until his death, he was head of the Department of the Ancient East at Faculty of Eastern Studies in Leningrad State University. Major Accomplishments Since his student years, B.B. Piotrovsky took part in various archaeological expeditions in the North Caucasus. Archaeological study of the complex analysis and historical reconstruction of Urartu’s monuments for many years becomes the main direction of his scientific activity. The sphere of scientific interests of B. Piotrovsky was extraordinarily wide and various: archaeology and the Ancient East, questions of social and cultural history, the history and collections of the Hermitage, and the people who have made a significant contribution to creation of the museum. Piotrovsky was director of the 1939 excavations that uncovered the Urartian fortress of Teishebaini in Armenia. The antiquity was hidden for many centuries under “a red hill” and now is one of the most interesting and most comprehensively studied monuments of Urartian civilization. Karmir Blur means “red hill” or “red fortress” (Armenian: Կարﬕր բերդ meaning “red fortress”). It is a fortified Urartian settlement, which was destroyed in the beginning of sixth century BCE. Evidence found there has been a key to understanding the Urartian civilization. His wellknown excavation of a fortress on a hill Karmir Blur about Yerevan opened to the world the new ancient state of Urartu and was a great discovery. The results of expeditions were described in detail by B. B. Piotrovsky in his scientific Piotrovsky, Boris B. works – archaeological reports on Karmir Blur’s excavation (1950, 1952, 1955) and monographs: History and Culture of Urartu (1944), Karmir Blur (1950–1955), and Art of Urartu by the Eighth–Sixth Centuries BC (1962). Since the beginning of the Great Patriotic War in 1941–1942, B. B. Piotrovsky wrote in Leningrad the book History and Culture of Urartu, which was published in 1944. For this work he was awarded the scientific degree of the doctor of historical sciences (1944) and the State Prize of the USSR (1946). After the Great Patriotic War, Piotrovsky continued research in Karmir Blur, and in 1956 he had an opportunity to visit Egypt. Later, in 1961–1963, he headed the work of the International Archaeological Expedition to Nubia, in the territory flooded by waters of the Aswan Dam under construction. The name of B. B. Piotrovsky has entered into the Soviet and world historical science about the ancient world. Boris B. Piotrovsky possesses numerous works on ancient history, archaeology, art of Transcaucasia, the North Caucasus, Central Asia, and also on history and culture of ancient Egypt, finding the deserved recognition as in Russia and abroad. Experience and knowledge allowed B. B. Piotrovsky to carry out more than 50 scientific archaeological expeditions fruitfully. The scientific results of excavations at Urartian fortress on a hill Karmir Blur in Armenia, near Yerevan, which passed from 1939 to 1941, were especially significant. These were not Piotrovsky’s sole contributions to the field of archaeology, however. Piotrovsky worked elsewhere in the Caucasus, especially on the Scythian culture. In 1961, he became the head of an expedition of the USSR Academy of Sciences to study Nubian monuments in Egypt. B.B. Piotrovsky was elected as a full member of Academy of Sciences of the USSR on Department of History (History of Culture) in 1970, was a full member of Academy of Sciences Armenian Soviet Socialist Republic in 1968, and a member correspondent of the Bavarian Academy of Sciences, the British Academy of Sciences, Royal Academy of Morocco, and an honorary member Plain of Jars Archaeological Landscape of fifteen other foreign academies and scientific societies. In his lifetime, B.B. Piotrovsky published more than 200 works in the fields of archaeology, history, and art. 5961 P Plain of Jars Archaeological Landscape Julie Van Den Bergh Archaeological Assessments Ltd, Hong Kong, Lamma Island, Hong Kong Cross-References ▶ Burial Archaeology and the Soviet Era ▶ Cultural Heritage and the Public ▶ Cultural Heritage Management and Images of the Past ▶ Early Regional Centers: Evolution and Organization ▶ Museums and Memory Experiences ▶ Middle East Archaeology: Sites, Texts, Symbols, and Politics ▶ Russia: Management of Archaeological Heritage ▶ Urartu, Archaeology of Further Reading ARESHYAN, G. 1983. «Պիոտրովսկի» (Piotrovsky), in Soviet Armenian encyclopedia, Volume IX: 302. Yerevan, Armenian SSR: Armenian Academy of Sciences. The Art and Culture of the Peoples of the Caucasus: 1100 B.C. –19th century. n.d. Available at: http:// www.hermitagemuseum.org/html_En/index.html. THE NEW YORK TIMES. Boris B. Piotrovsky, archeologist; Director of the Hermitage was 82. 17 October 1990. PIOTROVSKY, B.B. 1963. Wadi Allaki — der Weg der Alten zu den Goldminen Nubiens. Moskau. - 1967. Urartu. The kingdom of Van and its art. London: Evelyn, Adams and Mackay. - 1969a. The ancient civilization of Urartu. New York: Cowless Book Co. - 1969b. Urartu. London: Cresset Press. - 1975. Urartu. Roma: Nagel. - 1979. Les échanges d’expositions: phénomène important de l’époque contemporaine. Museums and cultural exchange-Musées et échanges culturels: the papers from the Eleventh General Conference of ICOM, Moscow 23-29 May 1977. Oxford. - 1980. Hermitage. History and collection. Leningrad: Iskusstvo. (in Russian) - 1987. Scythian art. Leningrad: Aurora; Oxford: Phaidon. THE STATE HERMITAGE MUSEUM. n.d. The Hermitage Readings in memory of Boris Piotrovsky (1908 - 1990). Available at: http://www.hermitagemuseum.org/html_ En/index.html (accessed 22 July 2008). Introduction The remote plateau of Xieng Khouang in Laos is home to one of the most enigmatic and fascinating archaeological landscapes in Southeast Asia. Clusters of megalithic jars, ranging in size from 1 to 3 m in height and diameter, dot the lower foot slopes and surround the central plain. The limited archaeological research carried out to date indicates that the stone jars were part of Iron Age burial practices which occurred and evolved at the crossroads of the two major eco-cultural systems of Iron Age Southeast Asia: the Mun-Mekong System and the Red River/Golf of Tonkin System. The strategic importance of the Plain of Jars in the region was highlighted during the SiameseDai Viet conflicts of the late eighteenth to late nineteenth century and again during the Indochina Wars. It was during the Second Indochina War that the United States carpet bombed Xieng Khouang and left a deadly legacy of unexploded ordnance (UXO). UXO has been the main cause of poverty in the province as it severely hampers economic development; it has also resulted in limited archaeological research. A UNESCO-Lao government initiative called Safeguarding the Plain of Jars Project, which commenced in 1998, has compiled a Geographical Information System database of 89 sites within Xieng Khouang province (www.unescobkk.org/culture/pdj/). The database provides information on location, form, material, and conservation status for each individual jar, as well as overall site descriptions and information on 7 or 8 locations regarded as jar quarry and manufacturing sites. The identification of multiple sites allowed researchers to develop a better understanding of the locations chosen and the P P 5962 technical know-how behind jar production (Baldock & Van Den Bergh 2009). The project was set up as a comprehensive effort to rehabilitate the Plain of Jars, and initially, with the financial assistance of the New Zealand government (NZAID), seven jar sites were cleared of UXO and prepared for community-led heritage management and tourism development. Definition Plain of Jars is an organically evolved archaeological landscape in the central east of Lao PDR. The landscape consists of clusters of megalithic jars and associated features which are thought to reflect ancient beliefs in birth, life, death, and rebirth. The typical attributes of a jar site comprise stone jars, stone disc-shaped grave markers, stone lids, and secondary burials with pottery, stone, bronze, or iron grave goods. The latter components, together with the site locations, decorative expressions, and limestone cave at site 1 and quarries, form the Plain of Jars Archaeological Landscape. Although the jars are largely undecorated, the range of jar forms and modifications in manufacturing process may indicate either individualistic expressions of the carvers or simply changing needs, that is, a transition from ritual excarnation to cremation. Among the few decorations adorning jars and stone discs are human and animal bas-relief figures, including monkeys, tigers, and possibly frogs. The secondary burials surrounding the stone jars are typically simple with plain urns, some stone tools, stone beads, plain or incised pottery, and a few metal artefacts such as bronze bells, bronze or iron wire bracelets, and iron knives. Historical Background Investigation History The first systematic archaeological investigations at the Plain of Jars were conducted in 1931–1933 by Madeleine Colani under the auspices of the Plain of Jars Archaeological Landscape Ecole Française d’Extrême Orient in Hanoi. She recorded around 20 sites, excavated a number of them, and published two volumes with her findings a few years later (Colani 1935). No further academic research was conducted until November 1994 when Professor Eiji Nitta of the Kagoshima University in collaboration with Lao Archaeologist Thongsa Sayavongkhamdy excavated, surveyed, and mapped the main site at Ban Ang (Nitta 1996). Mr. Sayavongkhamdy then continued to excavate several trenches at sites 1–3 in 1996 (Sayavongkhamdy & Bellwood 2001). Limited archaeological investigation led by Ms. Van Den Bergh and Mr. Samlane Luangaphay took place as part of the unexploded bomb clearance of the seven jar sites in 2004–2005 and 2007. During such work, a methodology for archaeological data retrieval during UXO clearance was developed in collaboration with UK-based charity Mines Advisory Group. The methodology allows for safe information gathering during excavation for unexploded bombs (Rogers & Van Den Bergh 2008). Excavation results since the 1930s have contributed only modestly to the further interpretation of Plain of Jars as a collection of Iron Age burial sites. Recent archaeological work has confirmed the presence of secondary burials surrounding the jars and also proved that the stone jars are contemporary with the burials. The dating of the Plain of Jars remains in question as the few AMS and C14 dates so far obtained fall outside of the accepted Southeast Asian Iron Age range (Sayavongkhamdy & Bellwood 2001: 108; Van Den Bergh 2007: 5), while the net-patterned pottery and human decorative bas-relief motifs are similar to fifth-century BCE to third-century CE examples from southern China. Although an Iron Age date for the Plain of Jars is generally accepted, Nitta suggested the resin covered urns should be dated to the end of the first millennium CE (Nitta 1996: 17). A working hypothesis put forward by Dr. Pamela Rogers and Dr. Richard Engelhardt (2003) proposed that the stone jars functioned as Plain of Jars Archaeological Landscape “distilling” vessels for human corpses. The ritual decomposition was then followed by secondary burial. Traditional Southeast Asian royal mortuary practices provide modern parallels that symbolize the transition of the deceased into the spiritual world. The hypothesis is supported by the secondary burials found around the base of stone jars and scant evidence of human bone and teeth inside the jars recorded by Colani. Legislative Framework and Protection Mechanisms The Plain of Jars was put forward by the Lao Government in 1992 as a tentative UNESCO World Heritage Site. The government recognized the site as a national heritage in 1993 after its registration by the Provincial Department of Information and Culture, and its protection status was thus defined and subsequently enshrined in the Heritage Law of 2005. 5963 P The Plain of Jars Archaeological Landscape has a high level of integrity with the sites having suffered mainly from benign neglect – the obvious exception being the carpet bombing of the province during the Second Indochina War. The end of the first decade of the twenty-first century has, however, been marked in Xieng Khouang province by the accelerated development of agriculture, road networks, and mining exploration. Development without thought for the preservation of the entire archaeological landscape may save the most famous and accessible sites at the cost of losing the very essence of the Plain of Jars: an archaeological landscape reflecting the extensive and elaborate mortuary practices of a long-disappeared civilization with strong cultural exchanges evidenced in the form and location of jar sites across its entire extent. International Perspectives and Future Directions Key Issues/Current Debates The key issue for the Plain of Jars is to put in place mechanisms to ensure the protection of this vast, complex, but little understood landscape in the context of a poor, predominantly rural, developing country (Van Den Bergh 2011). Currently the 3 main sites are managed by local provincial and district governments, and these are the only jar sites that generate limited income from tourist entrance fees. The one euro entrance fee covers the services of a ticket seller and basic maintenance of the site(s) by the community. The central or provincial governments lack sufficient funds to provide dedicated protection for the numerous sites. A further constraint is the obvious imbalance between the Lao PDR’s small number of national archaeologists, and the human resources actually needed to deal with the complex, widespread, and often remote Plain of Jars sites. Communitybased heritage management is a significant step forward in front line protection, but the training of competent personnel at provincial and district level is crucial if sustainable management and periodic monitoring of sites are to be ensured. Megalithic jars are not unique to Laos and the Plain of Jars. In 1929 Mils and Hutton (as cited in Colani 1935: 223-236) recorded four stone jar sites in the Cachar Hills of Northeast India, and “stone vats” have been recorded in the valleys of Bada and Besoa, Central Sulawesi, and Bima, Sumbawa Island in Indonesia. Nevertheless, when considered collectively, the wellunderstood strategic importance of the plateau, the integrity, authenticity of the landscape, and the resulting high research values make the Plain of Jars Archaeological Landscape a good candidate for UNESCO World Heritage Listing. In addition to contributing to our understanding of Southeast Asian prehistory, the sites have great potential for education and the development of community-led heritage tourism, which was recognized by UNESCO, the Lao government, and NZAID in Phase IV of Safeguarding the Plain of Jars Project 2006–2010. The UXO problem, however, must be acknowledged, and bomb removal efforts should continue to focus on sustainable heritage development. P P 5964 Cross-References ▶ Community Partnerships in Safeguarding World Cultural Heritage ▶ Conservation and Management of Archaeological Sites ▶ Cultural Heritage and Communities ▶ Cultural Heritage Management and Poverty ▶ Laos: Cultural Heritage Management ▶ Public Involvement in the Preservation and Conservation of Archaeology ▶ UNESCO’s World Heritage List Process ▶ Vandalism and Looting: Destruction, Preservation, and the Theft of the Past Plant Domestication and Cultivation in Archaeology Further Reading BOX, P. 2000. Overview mapping using GIS, in R.A. Engelhardt (ed.) UNESCO Plain of Jars Cultural Heritage Documentation Project. Bangkok: UNESCO Regional Advisor for Culture in Asia and the Pacific. - 2001. Mapping megaliths and unexploded ordnance, in R.A. Engelhardt (ed.) UNESCO Plain of Jars Cultural Heritage Documentation Project. Bangkok: UNESCO Regional Advisor for Culture in Asia and the Pacific, Bangkok. - 2003. Safeguarding the Plain of Jars: megaliths and unexploded ordinance in the Lao People’s Democratic Republic. ESRI, Journal of GIS in Archaeology 1: 92-102. Plant Domestication and Cultivation in Archaeology References BALDOCK, J. & J. VAN DEN BERGH. 2009. Geological mysteries at the Plain of Jars begin to unravel. Geology Today 25: 145-150. COLANI, M. 1935. Megalithes du Haut Laos (Publication de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient XXV-XXVI). Paris: École française d’Extrême-Orient. NITTA, E. 1996. Comparative study on the jar burial traditions in Vietnam, Thailand and Laos. Historical Science Reports, Kagoshima University 43: 1-19. ROGERS, P. & J. VAN DEN BERGH. 2008. Legacy of a secret war: archaeological research and bomb clearance in the Plain of Jars, Lao PDR, in E. Bacus, I. Glover & P. Sharrock (ed.) Interpreting Southeast Asian’s past. Monument, image and text. Selected Papers from 10th Conference of EASAA 2: 400-408. ROGERS, P., R. ENGELHARDT, P. BOX, J. VAN DEN BERGH, S. LUANGAPHAY & C. CHANTAVONG. 2003. The UNESCO project: safeguarding the Plain of Jars, in A. Karlström & A. Källén (ed.) Fishbones and glittering emblems: Southeast Asian archaeology 2002. Stockholm: Museum of Far Eastern Antiquities. SAYAVONGKHAMDY, T. & P. BELLWOOD. 2001. Recent archaeological research in Laos. Bulletin of the Indo-Pacific Prehistory Association 19: 101-10. VAN DEN BERGH, J. 2007. Safeguarding the Plain of Jars, an overview, in Y. Goudineau & M. Lorrilard. (ed.) New research on Laos-Recherches nouveles sur le Laos (Etudes thematiques 18) Vientiane: Ecole Française d’Extrême-Orient. - 2011. Managing a complex archaeological landscape, Plain of Jars, Lao PDR, in International Conference on the Bujang Valley and Early Civilizations in Southeast Asia 3-7 July 2010. Malaysia. Kristen Gremillion Department of Anthropology, The Ohio State University, Columbus, OH, USA Introduction Plant domestication and cultivation are key concepts for archaeologists who study foodproducing societies. Food production takes many forms, ranging from behaviors such as controlled burning that increase harvest yields to highly integrated agricultural systems supporting large populations. Dependence on food production has implications that ramify throughout sociocultural systems and played a key role in the development of corporate land tenure, social mechanisms for control of food surplus, and social hierarchies worldwide. In addition to its cultural significance, plant domestication is the ultimate basis for many of the human behaviors that have modified ecosystems on a global scale. Definition Most broadly, plant domestication can be defined as evolution under human management. By definition, then, domestication involves some change in gene frequencies within the population Plant Domestication and Cultivation in Archaeology in question. Gene frequencies change because the phenotypic traits they express – such as unusually large seeds – are favored by selection in the modified habitats created by human activity. Domestication is sometimes perceived as purposive, but in fact it can be initiated as a result of human modification of the environment without any conscious planning. Phenotypic change within domesticated populations may be visible in the archaeological record, depending on the plant tissues affected and their likelihood of preservation. The study of ancient DNA has made it possible to pinpoint significant mutations and track their history in some taxa. Domestication represents a continuum, and scholars have acknowledged this fact by using such terms as “semidomesticated,” “fully domesticated,” and “initial stages of domestication.” Morphological departures from the state characteristic of natural populations provide one set of indicators that domestication was underway. However, human management does not always leave such clear morphological signals. Whereas domestication is a particular type of evolution in which selection under human influence plays a major role, cultivation encompasses a suite of behaviors involved in managing plant resources, including but not limited to clearing, burning, plowing, selective breeding, planting, and harvesting. Domestication is an evolutionary process or relationship, whereas cultivation is a type of human activity. The two are closely related and often co-occur, but they are clearly different types of phenomena. There is more ambiguity regarding the difference between the two when “domesticated” and “cultivated” are used as modifiers, as in “domesticated plant.” Archaeobotanists usually distinguish between cultivated plants, which are tended by humans but may or may not have undergone selection as a result, and domesticated ones, which must meet the additional criterion of having been morphologically and genetically altered from the wild state. Domestication is seldom viewed today as an intentional, goal-directed form of technology in which humans impose their will on plants and animals to create new, culturally modified 5965 P forms. Instead, domesticated species are recognized to be active participants in a mutualistic relationship that has evolutionary consequences for both partners. Highlighting and reinforcing this view is the recognition that humans are not the only organisms that domesticate, as research on social insects has revealed (Rindos 1984). The nature of the domesticatory relationship in terms of human control, degree of phenotypic modification of the domesticate, and the significance of evolutionary and environmental constraints upon the coevolutionary process vary considerably depending upon the species involved. Historical Background Historical Geography and Evolution of Domesticates: The Nineteenth Century The first in-depth scientific studies of plant and animal domestication were undertaken in the nineteenth century. Most famously, Charles Darwin used the development of distinct varieties of domesticates as an analogy for natural selection (Darwin 1859). He skillfully took the reader through the argument, which provided familiar points of reference from animal breeding – the breeder’s decisions to enhance some traits and suppress others, the principle of inheritance (by which like produces like), and the appearance of “sports” (unusual phenotypes). By the time he deftly replaced the pigeon fancier with Nature as the selecting agent, the basic elements of the principle of natural selection had been presented, accompanied by a body of supporting evidence. Darwin subsequently published a two-volume treatise in which he explored the causes of phenotypic variation in domesticated animals and plants (Darwin 1868). Darwin relied for much of his data on the work of Alphonse de Candolle, who aimed to identify the geographical origins of crop plants based on their then-current geographical distributions, historical information, languages, and archaeology. First published in 1855, his major work predated the publication of Darwin’s Origin by several years. However, even the later (substantially revised) 1888 edition (De Candolle 1886) has P P 5966 little to say about the evolutionary processes by which plants become domesticated. De Candolle did, however, have a keen interest in the archaeological record as a source of evidence for ancient crops and their history. He knew of the excavations of Oswald Heer at the Swiss lake dwellings and was acquainted with the desiccated seeds and other plant parts that had been discovered in Egyptian tombs (De Candolle 1886: 11). Archaeobotany was still a young discipline, but in the years to come archaeologists would begin to appreciate its potential for documenting domestication. Archaeology and Plant Domestication: The Early Twentieth Century One of the first archaeologists to take an explicit interest in plant domestication and agricultural origins was Rafael Pumpelly, whose excavations at Anau in Turkey investigated climate change in relation to early food production (Zeder et al. 2006a). Archaeological research in the Near East has been, and continues to be, a major source of paleoenvironmental and archaeobotanical data on plant domestication. With the realization that even minute plant parts such as seeds could be recovered from archaeological soils, archaeobotanists began looking more closely at the distinctive morphological traits that differentiated domesticated plants from their wild relatives. The University of Michigan Museum of Anthropology’s Ethnobotany Laboratory made major contributions to the metric study of the seeds and fruits of native eastern North American domesticates, such as the sunflower (Helianthus annuus L.) and marshelder (Iva annua L.). This work, begun by Melvin Gilmore and his student Volney Jones, was carried on by subsequent generations of ethnobotanists. This Michigan school of paleoethnobotany was influenced by the work of botanist Edgar Anderson, whose 1952 book Plants, Man, and Life presented what came to be known as the “dump-heap theory” of plant domestication (Smith 1992). Anderson recognized that human activity enriched soils and disturbed vegetation in ways that encouraged the colonization of campsites by weeds, many of which were cultivated as Plant Domestication and Cultivation in Archaeology food sources. Many later archaeologists and archaeobotanists were to find this model useful in explaining how and why domestication began. Anderson’s vision of domestication as a purely incidental consequence of unplanned environmental modification by humans was to become an appealing alternative to the idea that domestication was a calculated innovation. In plant science, the work of Nikolai Vavilov (1992) in the early part of the twentieth century was an important foundation for later studies of the geographical origins and dispersal of cultivated plants. Vavilov proposed that geographical origins of crop species could be pinpointed by looking for high levels of diversity in inherited traits. Although the center of diversity/point of origin correlation has not held up well over subsequent years, Vavilov’s work continues to be a point of comparison for geneticists and archaeologists currently examining crop origins. Ecological Approaches: The 1960s and 1970s Human ecology and systems theory were attractive paradigms for archaeologists working on the origins of agriculture. These approaches informed the work of North American archaeologists such as Kent Flannery, who initiated multidisciplinary projects that laid the groundwork for the scientific study of plant domestication in both Mexico and the Near East. Across the Atlantic, the economic prehistory school was flourishing, producing data-rich and theoretically informed studies of ancient plant domestication. Flotation recovery of archaeological plant remains using fine screens was yielding assemblages of unprecedented size and quality, stimulating archaeobotanists to investigate the morphological correlates of domestication by measuring seeds and fruits. In eastern North America, this work led to widespread recognition that the domestication of native plants had preceded by at least two millennia the introduction of maize from Mexico (Smith 1992, 2006; Zeder et al. 2006a). In agricultural sciences, Jack Harlan revived Vavilov’s centers of domestication, modifying the original model to acknowledge the true complexity of crop origins and dispersals by Plant Domestication and Cultivation in Archaeology recognizing primary and secondary centers of domestication as well as noncenters (Harris 2007). Harlan along with colleagues in botany and crop sciences began to define the effects of cultivation on natural selection in plant populations. A rigorous model of the “adaptive syndrome” of domestication in seed crops was beginning to crystallize (Harlan et al. 1973). Domestication as Coevolution: The Late Twentieth Century By the 1980s, archaeologists and archaeobotanists had embraced an explicitly evolutionary understanding of domestication. Multidisciplinary approaches to domestication origins and processes were widespread and gaining momentum. Researchers interested in the question of morphological change under domestication turned increasingly to metric analysis of seeds and fruits, an effort fueled by the accelerated recovery of plant remains by flotation. In eastern North America, Bruce Smith demonstrated that goosefoot (Chenopodium berlandieri L.) was a domesticate by applying the evolutionary understanding of selection under domestication previously developed by Harlan et al. (1973). His work exemplifies the synthesis of new methods (such as scanning electron microscopy and direct accelerator dating of plant material) with evolutionary and ecological theory (specifically, the adaptive syndrome of domestication and Anderson’s dump-heap model). Smith applied his understanding of plant domestication as coevolution to explain archaeological patterns in eastern North American riverine environments of the Middle Holocene (Smith 1992). Coevolution became an influential concept in many regions as archaeologists grappled with the problem of how and why plant domestication emerged from straightforward predation. The continuum of human-plant interaction envisioned by David Harris and revised over several decades continues to influence theories of plant domestication (Fig. 1). In light of this ethnographically informed view of the broad spectrum of human behaviors affecting plant populations, the dichotomy separating domesticated from wild was increasingly untenable. 5967 P The theory of plant domestication as coevolution was systematically set out in a monograph by David Rindos, an American scholar with a diverse background including a Ph.D. in Anthropology and Evolutionary Biology and an M.S. in Botany, both from Cornell. Rindos’ 1984 book (Rindos 1984) was read with great interest by many archaeologists and ethnobotanists. Its influence was not universal, in part due to his insistence that human intention was not a proper ingredient in an evolutionary theory of domestication. He emphasized instead the mutualism that develops when animals become dispersal agents for plants. His model of agricultural expansion was largely ignored. However, Rindos forced researchers to question many of their assumptions about domestication, including its definition in terms of morphological and genetic markers. He did this by stretching the definition of domestication to its breaking point, including every instance of animal/plant mutualism, including ant “agriculture.” Rindos’ view of the continuum from generalized to specialized to agricultural domestication was not widely adopted in its original form. However, his contention that initial domestication did not require explanation because it was a natural outgrowth of evolved dispersal relationships seems to have struck a chord with many researchers. Domestication in Twenty-First-Century Archaeology: A Prologue A number of trends and issues can be identified in the contemporary study of plant domestication and cultivation in archaeology. Morphology is losing its status as the sine qua non of plant domestication; researchers realize that the diverse trajectories of domestication demand flexible criteria that may include landscape modification and dispersal of domesticates into new habitats and regions. Genetic studies have become key tools for tracing crop origins and dispersals. Starch grains and phytoliths offer new opportunities for documenting ancient domesticates. Current debates over explanation pit agency against blind evolutionary forces and behavioral ecology against niche construction as theoretical frameworks. P 5968 Increasing labour input per land unit Increasing size, density and duration of settlements Increasing population density Cultivation with systematic tillage Gathering, burning, tending Replacement planting, harvesting, storage Land clearance, tillage Foragers using wild progenitors (often secondary resources) Management of wild progenitors (possibly dwindling), range expansion Key Issues/Current Debates Documentation of Domestication in the Archaeological Record For annual seed crops, the adaptive syndrome of domestication has stood the test of time. Morphological criteria that can be securely linked with selection under domestication continue to have great value, particularly when macrobotanical remains are the target of study. For example, an increase in seed and fruit size has long been known as a response to intentional selection of seed stock but can also occur by way of seedling competition in modified soils (Table 1). Size can easily be assessed with simple measurements of length, width, and thickness. Indicators of the loss of germination dormancy may be more difficult to observe. In Chenopodium, thick seed coats that inhibit germination tend to be reduced or lost under domestication. Measurements of seed coat thickness must be done using highresolution, high-magnification microscopy. The trait of shattering to disperse seeds is qualitative rather than quantitative. For example, in cereals the abscission layer that permits the ripe seed cluster (spikelet) to fall from the parent plant is lost. The resulting pattern of breakage – across the rachis, the stalk that anchors the grass seed cluster to the parent plant – is archaeologically distinctive (Pickersgill 2007; Fuller et al. 2012). d.r on Wild plant food production sticati Wild plant food procurement Dome Plant Domestication and Cultivation in Archaeology, Fig. 1 A model of the foraging-toagriculture continuum developed by David Harris and modified by Dorian Fuller (2007). Shaded areas represent stages of predomestication cultivation. The bottom row indicates archaeobotanical signatures associated with each stage (Creative Commons Attribution NonCommercial License (http://creativecommons. org/licenses/by-nc/2.5/)) Plant Domestication and Cultivation in Archaeology Semi-domes tication P Agriculture: cultivation of domestic crops Reliance on cultivation, improved harvesting methods Emergence of arable Rise to dominance and weed flora (assemblage fixation of domestic-type change); evolution of dispersal larger grains, reduction of dispersal aids Comparisons designed to differentiate domesticated from non-domesticated populations (or semidomesticated ones) should be made between populations or samples, since variants exhibiting domesticated-type morphology may be present at low frequencies even in wild stands. Simultaneous ripening, for example, might be assessed by measuring variability in seed size within a single context or on a bundle of infructescences (fruit clusters) harvested together and preserved in a cave or rockshelter. For plants that are cultivated for their underground storage organs (USOs), documentation of domestication can be difficult. These plants are propagated clonally, with some sexual reproduction to maintain variation. The parts consumed are nonreproductive tissue consisting mainly of starch. Fortunately, the size and morphology of starch grains and phytoliths have the potential to reflect selection under domestication, although it is not always clear that these phenotypic changes have a genetic basis (Smith 2006). Recently, morphology has been joined by genetic analysis as a method of documenting the appearance of domesticate phenotypes. This exciting development involves the study of quantitative trait loci (QTLs) that code for specific phenotypic traits. In maize, for example, domestication-related genes for plant architecture, storage protein synthesis, and starch production have Plant Domestication and Cultivation in Archaeology 5969 P Plant Domestication and Cultivation in Archaeology, Table 1 Selection pressures under a regime of harvesting and replanting of stored seed (the adaptive syndrome of domestication) Specific behaviors Habitat disturbance, tilling Whole-plant harvesting Seed-beater harvesting Selective pressure Intensified seedling competition favoring rapid germination Intensified seedling competition favoring vigorous seedlings Trait associated with domestication Loss or reduction of germination inhibitors Increase in food reserves for seedling growth Competitive advantage of nonshattering type Competitive advantage of shattering trait Selection favoring seeds that are mature when harvested Non-shattering spikelet Loss/reduction of dispersal morphology mechanisms Dispersal mechanisms retained Shattering spikelet morphology (abscission layer intact) Low variance in seed size/few Synchronous maturation of immature seeds seeds Archaeobotanical signature Seed coat thin or lacking Larger seeds Sources: Harlan et al. (1973), Smith (1992), Pickersgill (2007) been identified and their distribution studied using ancient DNA (aDNA) (Jones & Brown 2007). The locus controlling for starch quality was found to be different in aDNA from 4000year-old cobs from the Ocampo caves in Mexico (a soft type preferred for making tortillas) as compared to 1,000–2,000-year-old maize from Tularosa Cave in New Mexico (a hard-kernelled form) (Zeder et al. 2006b). With this kind of data, both morphological and genetic, accumulating from many world regions, it has become necessary to reassess the validity of phenotypic markers as the sole or primary criterion for plant domestication. Morphological change is not necessarily the “leading edge” of domestication, but in some cases represents a much later outgrowth of pre-domestication cultivation (Zeder et al. 2006a; Harris 2007; Jones & Brown 2007). Domestication might also precede cultivation in the strict sense, due to unconscious forms of selection (Rindos 1984). In light of the great variability of ecological situations that give rise to human-plant coevolution, researchers have called for a richer and more nuanced treatment of domestication. This newer view acknowledges that phenotypic and genotypic changes do not universally characterize the mutualisms between human and plant populations (Zeder et al. 2006b). To understand how these mutualisms develop, it is necessary to look beyond seed measurements and view plant management in its cultural context. Landscape management and archaeological occurrence of a plant outside of its known wild range are other non-morphological indicators of domestication in this broad sense (Zeder et al. 2006a). Plant domestication may be seen as one aspect of niche construction, by which organisms modify their environments in ways that affect the reproductive success of their offspring (Smith 2007). Rates of Domestication In the view of nineteenth-century social evolutionists, agriculture was a precondition for civilization, and domestication of animals and plants was the brainchild of human ingenuity. Today, scholars recognize the importance of unconscious selection as well as selective breeding, and therefore that rapid transitions should not be expected. The domesticated vs. wild dichotomy has been largely replaced by a continuum in which coevolutionary relationships are fluctuating and sensitive to environmental and cultural influences rather than heading inevitably toward agriculture. However, questions still remain about the rate of domestication and how that rate varies between species. Are single mutations responsible for most domesticated phenotypes, or are they often influenced by multiple loci? What is the role of genes of large effect, such as P P 5970 regulatory genes that control growth and development? Do some harvesting methods accelerate domestication? For a brief period, rapid rates had considerable support from harvest experiments that suggested that domestication of wild wheat and barley could have been accomplished in a matter of decades (Allaby et al. 2008). Also contributing to the rapid transition model for the Near East was the apparently sudden appearance of intensively harvested wild cereals in the Early Holocene. However, accumulating archaeobotanical data indicate a much longer period of domestication, beginning with intensive seed harvesting some 20,000 years ago and continuing with predomestication cultivation by 13,000–12,500 BP, with the fixation of the domestication syndrome perhaps taking several thousand more years (Allaby et al. 2008). Possible reasons for the length of this process include relatively weak selection and ongoing gene flow from wild populations. The latter barrier could sometimes be removed only by removing the plant from its original range. The full spectrum of domestication syndrome traits for a species does not necessarily form a “package”; instead, changing harvesting practices or economic strategies shift selection so that different traits emerge at different times (Allaby 2010). In rice and other cereals, for example, changes in grain size and shape preceded the loss of the shattering trait; in legumes, cultivation was practiced for thousands of years before larger seeds developed (Fuller 2007). Another variable that may speed the rate of domestication is developmental plasticity, which allows for phenotypic variation without corresponding changes in the genome. In a stable environment, over time, such traits may become less responsive to environment and become genetically fixed or “assimilated” (Gremillion & Piperno 2009). Single Vs. Multiple Origins of Crop Plants Since Vavilov’s centers of domestication, new evidence has revealed a much more complex picture of crop origins. Modern cultivars frequently show the influence of multiple lineages Plant Domestication and Cultivation in Archaeology from different geographical areas. Single origins for important crops have been proposed based on phylogenies that are monophyletic (possessing a single lineage). However, the interpretation of monophyly as indicating a single origin rests on the assumption of a rapid process of domestication. Allaby et al.’s (2008) simulation of evolution under domestication, however, indicated that sample size and the number of generations over which evolution occurred had strong effects on phylogenetic outcomes. Thus, monophyly is a poor indicator of single origins. The histories of many crop plants remain to be worked out, but close collaboration between archaeologists, archaeobotanists, geneticists, and other specialists has produced impressive results so far and promises to continue to do so in the future. Agency and the Role of Evolutionary Theory Collaborative research and the great variability in pathways to domestication have stirred up theoretical debates as well. Some researchers are uncomfortable with evolutionary approaches to understanding the human side of the domestication equation and champion agency as a force for change. Agency alone seems to have little explanatory value without a theory of decisionmaking to accompany it. Both conscious and unconscious selection shape plant domestication, and understanding how agency is mobilized in certain directions and not others deserves serious attention. Evolutionary thinking remains influential in explaining the activities of human actors in the domestication process, but there is a tension between behavioral ecology (which predicts likely behaviors based on correlates of fitness such as risk reduction and efficiency) and niche construction, which also emphasizes adaptation but without using simple models or a simplified “currency.” Niche construction theory is attractive because of its strong emphasis on ecological details and explicit inclusion on the feedback between human alteration of the environment and natural selection (Smith 2007). There is also a tension between comparative and contextual approaches to domestication and Plant Domestication and Cultivation in Archaeology agricultural origins. The comparative perspective seeks common processes and causes and attempts to generalize across diverse cultural and environmental contexts. In contrast, the contextual approach recognizes the diffuse and mosaic character of domestication and the importance of understanding its sociocultural context. It advocates strong attention to historical details, the actions of self-aware agents, and local environments as a bridge to broader forms of explanation (Vrydaghs & Denham 2007). International Perspectives Historical differences in the development of archaeology in North America and the UK influence approaches to domestication. North American archaeology has been closely associated with cultural anthropology and human evolutionary studies. In the UK, prehistoric archaeology was more closely affiliated with geology and paleontology. Today, collaboration has erased or blurred these distinctions and opened up new opportunities for multidisciplinary research that takes advantage of many lines of evidence. An example of this trend is the integration of molecular approaches into the study of domesticate history. Until recently, archaeological research on plant domestication has been dominated by relatively few regions, among them temperate North America, Western Europe, the Near East, and those parts of Mesoamerica and South America that gave rise to urbanism. Efforts are now underway to include the domestication histories of regions formerly marginalized, such as the humid tropics of Africa and the Americas, Southeast Asia, and the Pacific Islands. Integration of this new information highlights the global variability of human-plant interactions, leading to calls for each region to be understood on its “own terms” (Vrydaghs & Denham 2007: 11). Former colonies of Western nations are producing archaeologists whose worldviews are strongly influenced by awareness of indigenous perspectives on the plant world. 5971 P Future Directions The past two decades have yielded a multitude of innovative techniques and approaches to plant domestication and cultivation in prehistory. The next two decades promise to be similarly productive, quite possibly in unanticipated ways. Based on current trends and gaps in knowledge, the following developments seem likely: 1. Increased attention to the cognitive basis of decision-making and proximal mechanisms involved in plant use and management. Archaeology has access to the material residues that document such decisions, but lacks direct empirical evidence of the thought processes that motivated prehistoric people. However, cognitive science continues to yield insight into how the human mind works, in some cases documenting specieswide strategies such as rapid, intuitive decision-making and persistent biases. There is also much to be learned from studies of contemporary peoples who manage plants on a daily basis using traditional systems of knowledge. Their decisions are based both on socially learned information (culture) and their own experiences. 2. Further exploration of biomolecules, especially aDNA, to document the history and spread of domesticated plants. This research effort continues to expand to encompass more species and has moved beyond analysis of selectively neutral loci to the identification of loci known to regulate the phenotypic traits associated with domestication. Much continues to be learned from modern plant populations about their ancient predecessors, but aDNA will yield more opportunities for pinpointing key events in crop history. Judging by progress over the last decades, methods for analyzing aDNA will continue to be refined and improved in the years to come. 3. More frequent application of models, particularly simulation models, to important questions about the process of domestication. Modeling is a crucial analytic tool for understanding evolution in the case of prehistoric P P 5972 populations, which are imperfectly documented in the material record. Models permit the manipulation of numerous variables, such as population size, mutation rates, and rates of cultural transmission, under conditions that cannot be replicated in the real world. Their results enhance understanding of how variables are interrelated and provide a framework for interpretation of archaeological evidence (Allaby et al. 2008). 4. Investigation of the domestication of nonfood plants. Food plants, especially cereals, have been the focus of much domestication research because of their impact on human population growth, social organization, mobility, and other sociocultural phenomena of interest to prehistorians. Fiber plants and fruit trees have received some attention, as have some psychoactive plants. Studies of major crops will continue, but innovations in residue analysis (for identification of lipids, alkaloids, and other biomolecules), fiber identification, and perhaps high-power microscopy of plant tissues will continue. 5. Eventually evolutionary theory will be fully integrated with the study of plant domestication in prehistory. The evolution of plants under domestication is becoming reasonably well understood, but human populations are often ignored as the other partner in the coevolutionary relationship. Many archaeologists are reluctant to engage with evolutionary theory as applied to humans. Often they are concerned that evolutionary thinking will necessarily lead to reductionistic explanation and a neglect of human agency. However, models that thoughtfully incorporate specifically cultural processes as well as biological inheritance will probably play an increasingly important role in the years to come. Cross-References ▶ Agricultural Practice: Transformation Through Time ▶ Anthropogenic Environments, Archaeology of Plant Domestication and Cultivation in Archaeology ▶ Archaeobotany of Early Agriculture: Macrobotany ▶ Archaeobotany of Early Agriculture: Microbotanical Analysis ▶ Darwin, Charles R. ▶ Foraging to Farming Transition: Global Health Impacts, Trends, and Variation ▶ Organic Residue Analysis in Archaeology ▶ Phytolith Studies in Archaeology References ALLABY, R.G. 2010. Integrating the processes in the evolutionary system of domestication. Journal of Experimental Botany 61: 935-944. ALLABY, R.G., D.Q. FULLER, & T.A. BROWN. 2008. The genetic expectations of a protracted model for the origins of domesticated crops. Proceedings of The National Academy of Sciences of The United States of America 105: 13982–13986. DARWIN, C. 1859. The origin of species. New York: Random House. - 1868. The variation of animals and plants under domestication. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. DE CANDOLLE, A. 1886. Origin of cultivated plants. New York: Hafner. FULLER, D.Q. 2007. Contrasting patterns in crop domestication and domestication rates: recent archaeobotanical insights from the Old World. Annals of Botany 100: 903-924. FULLER, D.Q., E. ASOUTI & M.D. PURUGGANAN. 2012. Cultivation as slow evolutionary entanglement: comparative data on rate and sequence of domestication. Vegetation History and Archaeobotany 21: 131-145. GREMILLION, K.J. & D.R. PIPERNO. 2009. Human behavioral ecology, phenotypic (developmental) plasticity, and agricultural origins: insights from the emerging evolutionary synthesis. Current Anthropology 50: 615-619. HARLAN, J.R., J.M.J. DEWET & G.E. PRICE. 1973. Comparative evolution of cereals. Evolution 27: 311-325. HARRIS, D.R. 2007. Agriculture, cultivation, and domestication: exploring the conceptual framework of early food production, in T. Denham, J. Iriarte & L. Vrydaghs (ed.) Rethinking agriculture: archaeological and ethnoarchaeological perspectives: 16-35. Walnut Creek (CA): Left Coast Press. JONES, M. & T. BROWN. 2007. Selection, cultivation and reproductive isolation: a reconsideration of the morphological and molecular signals of domestication, in T. Denham, J. Iriarte & L. Vrydaghs (ed.) Rethinking agriculture: archaeological and ethnoarchaeological perspectives: 36-49. Walnut Creek (CA): Left Coast Press. Plant Processing Technologies in Archaeology PICKERSGILL, B. 2007. Domestication of plants in the Americas: insights from Mendelian and molecular genetics. Annals of Botany 100: 925-940. RINDOS, D. 1984. The origins of agriculture: an evolutionary perspective. New York: Academic Press. SMITH, B.D. 1992. The floodplain weed theory of plant domestication in eastern North America, in B.D. Smith (ed.) Rivers of change:19-34. Washington (DC): Smithsonian Institution Press. - 2006. Documenting domesticated plants in the archaeological record, in M.A. Zeder, D.G. Bradley, E. Emshwiller & B.D. Smith (ed.) Documenting domestication. New genetic and archaeological paradigms: 15-24. Berkeley: University of California Press. - 2007. Niche construction and the behavioral context of plant and animal domestication. Evolutionary Anthropology, 16: 188-199. VAVILOV, N.I. 1992. Origin and geography of cultivated plants. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. VRYDAGHS, L. & T. DENHAM. 2007. Rethinking agriculture: introductory thoughts, in T. Denham, J. Iriarte & L. Vrydaghs (ed.) Rethinking agriculture: archaeological and ethnoarchaeological perspectives: 1-15. Walnut Creek (CA): Left Coast Press. ZEDER, M.A., D.G. BRADLEY, E. EMSHWILLER, & B.D. SMITH. 2006a. Documenting domestication: bringing together plants, animals, archaeology, and genetics, in M.A. Zeder, D.G. Bradley, E. Emshwiller & B.D. Smith (ed.) Documenting domestication. New genetic and archaeological paradigms: 1-14. Berkeley: University of California Press. ZEDER, M.A., E. EMSHWILLER, B.D. SMITH, & D.G. BRADLEY. 2006b. Documenting domestication: the intersection of genetics and archaeology. Trends in Genetics 22: 139-155. Further Reading DENHAM, T. 2005. Envisaging early agriculture in the Highlands of New Guinea: landscapes, plants and practices. World Archaeology 37: 290-306. DEWET, J.M.J. 1975. Evolutionary dynamics of cereal domestication. Bulletin of the Torrey Botanical Club 102: 307-312. HARRIS, D.R. 1969. Agricultural systems, ecosystems, and the origins of agriculture, in P.J. Ucko & G.W. Dimbleby (ed.) The domestication and exploitation of plants and animals: 3-15. London: Duckworth. - 1989. An evolutionary continuum of people-plant interaction, in D.R. Harris & G.C. Hillman (ed.) Foraging and farming, the evolution of plant exploitation: 11-26. London: Unwin Hyman. JAENICKE-DESPRES, V., E.S. BUCKLER, B.D. SMITH, M. THOMAS, P. GILBERT, A. COOPER, J. DOEBLEY & S. PAABO. 2003. Early allelic selection in maize as revealed by ancient DNA. Science 302: 1206-1208. JONES, M. & T. BROWN. 2000. Agricultural origins: the evidence of modern and ancient DNA. The Holocene 10: 769-776. 5973 P TERRELL, J.E., J. P. HART, S. BARUT, N. CELLINESE, A. CURET, T. DENHAM, C.M. KUSIMBA, K. LATINIS, R. OKA, J. PALKA, M.E.D. POHL, K.O. POPE, P.R. WILLIAMS, H. HAINES & J.E. STALLER. 2003. Domesticated landscapes: the subsistence ecology of plant and animal domestication. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory 10: 323-368. WILLCOX, G. 2005. The distribution, natural habitats, and availability of wild cereals in relation to their domestication in the Near East: multiple events, multiple centres. Vegetation History and Archaeobotany 14: 534-541. YARNELL, R.A. 1978. Domestication of sunflower and sumpweed in eastern North America, in R.I. Ford (ed.) The nature and status of ehnobotany: 289-300. Ann Arbor: Museum of Anthropology, University of Michigan. ZEDER, M.A. 2006. Central questions in the domestication of plants and animals. Evolutionary Anthropology 15: 105-117. Plant Processing Technologies in Archaeology Andrew S. Fairbairn School of Social Science, The University of Queensland, Brisbane, QLD, Australia Introduction Agriculturally produced plant seeds, tubers, and stems form the core of food systems for the vast majority of the world’s population. Today, as in the past, effective use and consumption of these foods relies on processing technologies. Ever improving archaeological science techniques and improved collection strategies from archaeological sites are greatly increasing the temporal and geographical range of material evidence for past plant processing technologies. A wider frame of ethnographic and experimental reference is also improving the ability of researchers to interpret those traces. The key role of processing technologies in the long-term development of agricultural systems and in the domestication process itself is now well established, and higher-quality evidence from Paleolithic sites is now demonstrating the preagricultural presence of plant food processing P P 5974 in several regions over at least the last 30,000–50,000 years. Evidence now suggests that while processing is important for the evolution and adoption of domesticates, specific technological advances in processing were not the key triggers of domestication itself. Definition Plant food processing refers to a wide range of activities that ultimately have one aim: to extract edible foodstuffs from the inedible. Most plant tissues, with the exception of some soft fruits, are not edible or provide at best meager food value to human digestive systems without some form of processing. This includes a large number of foods that are routinely eaten today and are the focus of agricultural production systems around the world, including the edible grains, legumes, and many tubers. Without processing grains pass through the digestive system largely undigested; while without cooking, grinding, or leeching, many forms of legumes (e.g., grass pea (Lathyrus sativus) and chickpea (Cicer arietinum)) and some tubers (e.g., bitter cassava (Manihot esculenta)) are lethal. Inedibility results from a number of protective features of plant physiology and chemistry, in part prompted by evolutionary pressures from potential predators, including humans (Stahl 1984; Jones 2009). Most directly, plants may encase edible parts, such as seeds, in some form of protective coating, such as nutshells or grassseed husks (chaff), which deter predation. In other cases the deterrent may be chemical compounds, ranging from relatively benign chemicals that reduce digestibility or cause a bitter taste to life-threatening compounds such as the arsenic-containing amygdalins of wild almonds, which poison the consumer (Martinoli & Jacomet 2004). Also of relevance are fibrous structures in plant leaves and stems which may hinder the mastication and digestion of otherwise nutritious plant foods. While plants are relatively easy to locate and harvest compared to hunted animals, these protective features provide a series of challenges Plant Processing Technologies in Archaeology which must be overcome if plants are to make a contribution to the human diet. The solutions require the investment of significant time, energy, and equipment in a wide range of technological responses to the challenges of plant inedibility; they include a range of implements and techniques in many cases forming elements of quite complex multiple-step processing sequences (Hillman 1981; Jones 2009). Harvesting may include simple collection of plant resources from the ground, or more involved use of harvesting devices, such as sickles and digging sticks. Releasing the edible foodstuffs from nutshells, seed coats, husks, or fibers may involve pounding, cutting, or grinding combined with winnowing, sieving, and soaking. Detoxifying foods of chemical compounds may include pounding, leeching toxins with water, grinding, and heating, which may also be employed to break up larger plant structures – such as grass seeds – into smaller more digestible particles, such as grits and flour. Perhaps the best-studied multiple-step processing sequence is that of the Old World cereal crops, which in ancient glume wheat species (e.g., einkorn (Triticum monococcum) and emmer (Triticum dicoccum)) includes harvesting, threshing to separate the cereal spikelets from the straw, winnowing to remove the chaff, pounding to release the grains from the chaff, and various stages of sieving and hand sorting to remove the weed seeds, straw nodes, and remaining chaff before the grain is milled and eaten. This process can be undertaken using a range of tools and spaces and results in the production of a range of products and by-products which may be identified in archaeobotanical assemblages. These processing techniques are found in many plant procurement systems, whether using wild resources or domesticates. They leave a range of potential archaeological traces, including the tools used to process the plants, such as grinders, pounders and blades, processing installations and even the residues of the processed plants themselves. The scale and organization of plant processing varies in different societies, depending on their economic emphasis and structure, as reflected in the number, size, and Plant Processing Technologies in Archaeology organization of processing facilities. Settlement remains from small-scale societies commonly preserve the remains of grinding stones distributed through dwellings or in communal areas, such as threshing floors, while urban societies may see the development of specialist processing facilities for production of food (e.g., centralized bakeries as seen in Classical cities) or production of foodstuffs as commodities. Archaeological study of food processing thus illuminates not only nutrition but also the socioeconomic aspects of food production. Only in recent years have archaeologists fully realized the potential of this material archive to allow the study of plant processing systems. Of particular importance in studying plant processing technologies has been the development of plant residue analysis, especially of starches, which has broadened the range of contexts from which plant remains are recovered and greatly expanded the geographical range of those studies, as has the development of highpowered microscopy of tuber and other macrofossil remains. Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples It is fair to say that recent decades have seen revolutionary advances in the archaeological identification of processing technologies and sequences which have caused major reevaluations of the economic conditions and food systems of past societies. While at one time the function of processing-related artifacts – such as pots, stone tools, and grinders – could only be inferred from sometimes contradictory ethnographic analogues, residue and use-wear analysis are now providing increasingly accurate and widespread tools to identify directly traces of past artifact function. Residue analysis identifies the traces of past use of artifacts and installations through identification of plant, animal, and mineral substances adhering to or absorbed into their surfaces, including starches, phytoliths, and chemical biomarkers. Analysis of starch residues and phytoliths has been particularly effective in identifying plant-related processing tools. In the 5975 P Asia-Pacific region, such studies have not only demonstrated tuber and seed exploitation 40,000–50,000 years ago (Barton et al. 2005; Summerhayes et al. 2010) – among the earliest in the world – but have confirmed the use of tubers in the independently evolved early agricultural systems of highland New Guinea (Denham et al. 2003) and the evolution of intensive nut exploitation in Holocene Australia (Cosgrove et al. 2007). These examples serve to illustrate the fact that archaeological understandings of plant use in the tropical zone have been disproportionately improved by starch and residue research – a fact that has perhaps gone relatively unnoticed in the traditional Old World centers of archaeobotanical research – in great part because food production systems in the wet tropics are often focused on otherwise poorly preserved tuber, leaf, and fruit crops. Another region which has undergone this revolution is tropical America, which now has a rapidly developing prehistory of crop use supported by microfossil research extending into the earlier Holocene (e.g., Perry et al. 2007). Use-wear analysis, which aims to identify traces of use via the abrasion patterns found on tools, is a particularly promising area of research for understanding past food technologies. It has been useful for identifying processing artifacts, including both stone blades and grinding stones, though difficulty still persists in unambiguously separating the wear traces from different activities (Goodale et al. 2010). Sickle wear – the glossy sheen on stone blades caused by cutting grasses, including cereals – has long been used as an indicator of cereal use at Natufian and early farming sites, though it is very difficult to separate the harvest of cereals from other grasses, such as reeds. Recent studies of Natufian sites have used experimental references to identify not only an increased focus on plant processing over time but also a great increase in the diversity of processing activities during this period. Use-wear analysis is strongly dependent on experimental archaeology – in which ancient practices are replicated or reconstructed through a controlled series of steps – as a source of analogues. This approach has a long pedigree P P 5976 with pioneering studies by Jack Harlan first demonstrating the potential of wild cereals as a sustainable source of food in Southwest Asia. It also has been of great importance for understanding the techniques and effects of plant food processing worldwide (see other references in this section). A particularly important set of harvesting experiments established that sickle harvesting positively encouraged the development of domestic traits in Old World cereal crops by selecting for non-shattering crop phenotypes and its introduction could lead to domestication in a few generations (Hillman & Davies 1990). This observation helped refocus archaeobotanical studies on how different crop processing practices could effect and even trigger the trajectories of domestication. Interestingly archaeobotanical studies have demonstrated domestication in seed crops to have actually taken millennia (for a detailed discussion, see Fuller 2007). Beyond Southwest Asia, recent research has used replicative experiments to help identify nut processing techniques from the fracture patterns on the remains of the nuts themselves as a means of testing earlier models of intensive plant exploitation (Asmussen 2010). Experimental studies have commonly been used in combination with ethnographic studies, namely, accounts of actual food processing behavior in societies around the world. Such studies have been important for understanding both the range of food processing techniques and their ubiquity across the occupied continents in very different societies. As noted above, ethnographically informed models of crop processing sequences in Southwest Asia transformed the ability of archaeologists to understand how people processed plant foods in the past by providing the means to directly identify them in ancient datasets and understand some of the variations such processes cause in the archaeobotanical record, thus helping to refine interpretations of harvest and other activities. Such an approach demonstrated that the cultivation of low-return small-seeded grasses in North America may have been adopted as they could be processed in the winter when lack of other Plant Processing Technologies in Archaeology tasks meant the return was worthwhile (Gremillion 2004). More importantly ethnographic and ethnohistorical studies have also extended our knowledge of how foragers utilize and process seeds and other plant resources and have contributed to the reconceptualization of agricultural origins. Of special interest are the accounts of foraging behavior in Indigenous Australia, the American northwest, and parts of the Americas, which have shown a close similarity between many “nonagricultural” plant harvesting and processing activities and those of agriculturalists (see papers in Denham et al. 2009a). For example, studies in Australasia demonstrate the relatively late focus on intensive seed and tree-nut exploitation – enabled by the grinding and detoxification of seeds and toxic species – in the case of the Atherton Tablelands within the last 2000 years (Cosgrove et al. 2007). It is increasingly clear that intensive use of seeds, tree nuts, and tubers, including the tending and even replanting of favored food-producing species, as well as storage, detoxification, and grinding, is undertaken by foragers. The distinction between a nonagriculturalist and an agriculturalist is often quite arbitrary and in many cases comes down to the presence or absence of morphologically domestic taxa. This insight is largely derived from work in the Americas, Australia, and parts of Africa and East Asia but has veracity for understanding the transition to sedentary farming lifeways in Southwest Asia and other classic agricultural hearths, where once simple binary transitions from forager to farmer can now be challenged on the basis of ever more detailed archaeological evidence (Zohary et al. 2012). Within the narrative of ancient agricultural origins and sedentism, food processing technologies have a central role. To put it simply, the longterm sustenance of large groups of people living together in a restricted space – as we find in farming societies – in most cases outstrips the capacity of environments to provide it. Sedentary societies are prone to food shortages because they are unable or unwilling to adopt residential mobility as a means of overcoming shortages in Plant Processing Technologies in Archaeology foods caused by seasonal cycles of abundance or less predictable factors such as loss due to fire or pests. As noted above, processing techniques are a means of unlocking the nutrients in potential foods that may be available but otherwise unused to thereby increase the dietary potential and – in ecological terms – the effective carrying capacity of those environments. Processing of otherwise inaccessible foods lies at the core of seed-based agriculture in the Old World, China, and parts of the Americas and Africa and when combined with storability accounts for their prevalence among societies in need of vegetable foods. Extracting the nutritional value requires considerable energy expenditure in grinding or other forms of processing. The question must arise: why bother? For high-density populous societies such processing of seeds and other crops may be the only means of supplying core calories for people and their animals. For earlier societies, especially late foragers, the question is very pertinent. Recent archaeological research – in great part fuelled by the methods summarized above – has shown that increased reliance on plant processing as a subsistence strategy emerges in the later millennia of the Paleolithic era. We know that nut cracking predates the evolution of Homo sapiens – and may be an ancient ancestral behavior as chimpanzee populations also use this practice. However, use of complex processing and a wider range of resources, including tubers and toxic seeds, is seen in parts of Europe, Southeast Asia, and Sahul dating from 30,000 to 50,000 years ago (Barton 2005; Revedin et al. 2010; Summerhayes et al. 2010). In the higher latitudes during the cooler periods of the Pleistocene, the answer is not simply one of supplying base calories. Meatfocused diets can lead to nitrogen poisoning and a significant plant food dietary input (in most places 25 %) is required to buffer the nitrogen input from meat (Jones 2009). In highly seasonal environments, nuts, fruits, seeds, and tubers provide highly abundant and widespread potential sources of such foods, as long as appropriate processing methods are applied. Once considered a late Pleistocene development as part of the preagricultural “broad-spectrum revolution,” the 5977 P exploitation of a wide range of plants may have been a key human adaptive strategy for many millennia and contributed to the successful colonization of the world by early human populations. Processing techniques and sequences in all their complexity and diversity were part of that adaptive range of skills and were fundamentally important in realizing the nutritional potential of exploitable plants in those regions. Intensive use and eventual domestication of plant species seems to have emerged from this long tradition of plant exploitation in some regions, perhaps as a result of specialization in plant subsistence practices on a narrow range of exploitable resources (see Denham et al. 2009b). As greater evidence emerges of the antiquity and scope of plant food processing and the extended period of domestication itself becomes clear, it is less and less easy to identify processing activities as a trigger for the domestication process, though some new technologies may have increased the chances of domestication happening. Rather, processing activities allowed much greater effective use to be made of a wider range of plant foods, which perhaps empowered communities to experiment with and find plants that could provide the reliable, bulk sources of calories on which sedentary subsistence could be based and that eventually were domesticated and farmed. Processing technologies thus provided the means by which plant selection and domestication could become possible, but their development does explain neither why domestication itself happened nor why the cultivation of domesticates became the chosen means of exploiting plant species for many societies around the world. Cross-References ▶ Abu Hureyra: Agriculture and Domestication ▶ Archaeobotany of Early Agriculture: Macrobotany ▶ Archaeobotany of Early Agriculture: Microbotanical Analysis ▶ Bananas: Origins and Development ▶ Capsicums/Chiles: Origins and Development P P 5978 ▶ Domestication Syndrome in Plants ▶ Ethnoarchaeology ▶ Human Evolution: Use of Fire ▶ Kuk Swamp: Agriculture and Domestication ▶ Maize: Origins and Development ▶ Niah Caves: Role in Human Evolution ▶ Paleoethnobotany ▶ Plant Domestication and Cultivation in Archaeology ▶ Squash: Origins and Development ▶ Taro: Origins and Development ▶ Wheats: Origins and Development References ASMUSSEN, B. 2010. In a nutshell: the identification and archaeological application of experimentally defined correlates of Macrozamia seed processing. Journal of Archaeological Science 37: 2117-25. BARTON, N. 2005. The case for rainforest foragers: the starch record at Niah Cave, Sarawak. Asian Perspectives 44: 56-72. COSGROVE, R., J. FIELD & Å. FERRIER. 2007. The archaeology of Australia’s tropical rainforests. Palaeogeography, Palaeoclimatology, Palaeoecology 251: 150–73. DENHAM, T.P., S.G. HABERLE, C. LENTFER, R. FULLAGER, J. FIELD, M. THERIN, N. PORCH & B. WINSBOROUGH. 2003. Origins of agriculture at Kuk Swamp in the highlands of New Guinea. Science 301: 189-93. DENHAM, T., R. FULLAGER & L. HEAD. 2009. Plant exploitation on Sahul: from colonisation to the emergence of regional specialisation during the Holocene. Quaternary International 202: 29-40. DENHAM, T., J. IRIARTE & L. VRYDAGHS. 2009. Rethinking agriculture: archaeological and ethnoarchaeological perspectives. Walnut Creek: Left Coast Press. FULLER, D. Q. 2007. Contrasting patterns in crop domestication and domestication rates: recent archaeobotanical insights from the Old World. Annals of Botany 100: 903-924. GOODALE, N., H. OTIS, W. ANDREFSKY, I. KUIJT, B. FINLAYSON & K. BART. 2010. Sickle blade lifehistory and the transition to agriculture: an early Neolithic case study from Southwest Asia. Journal of Archaeological Science 37: 1192-1201. GREMILLION, K.J. 2004. Seed processing and the origins of food production in eastern North America. American Antiquity 69: 215-33. HILLMAN, G. C. 1981. Reconstructing crop husbandry practices from charred remains of crops, in R. Mercer (ed.) Farming practice in British prehistory: 123-62. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Plantation Archaeology HILLMAN, G. C. & M. S. DAVIES. 1990. Domestication rates in wild-type wheats and barley under primitive cultivation. Biological Journal of the Linnean Society 39: 39–78. JONES, M. 2009. Moving North: archaeobotanical evidence for plant diet in Middle and Upper Paleolithic Europe, in J.J. Hublin & M.P. Richards (ed.) The evolution of Hominin diets: integrating approaches to the study of palaeolithic subsistence: 171-80. London: Springer. MARTINOLI, D. & S. JACOMET. 2004. Identifying endocarp remains and exploring their use at Epipalaeolithic € Oküzini in southwest Anatolia, Turkey. Vegetation History and Archaeobotany 13: 45-54. PERRY, L., R. DICKAU, S. ZARRILLO, I. HOLST, D.M. PEARSALL, D.R. PIPERNO, M.J. BERMAN, R.G. COOKE, K. RADEMAKER, A.J. RANERE, J.S. RAYMOND, D.H. SANDWEISS, F. SCARAMELLI, K. TARBLE & J.A. ZEIDLER. 2007. Starch fossils and the domestication and dispersal of chili peppers (Capsicum spp. L.) in the Americas. Science 315: 986-88. REVEDIN, A., B. ARANGUREN, R. BECATTINIA, L. LONGOC, E. MARCONID, M. LIPPIE, N. SKAKUNF, A. SINITSYNF, A. SPIRIDONOVAG & J. SVOBODAH. 2010. Thirty thousand-year-old evidence of plant food processing. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences (PNAS) 107: 18815-19. STAHL, A. B. 1984. Human dietary selection before fire. Current Anthropology 25: 151-68. SUMMERHAYES, G. G., M. LEAVESLEY, A. FAIRBARN, H. MANDUI, J. FIELD, A. FORD & R. FULLAGAR. 2010. Human adaptation and plant use in Highland New Guinea 49,000 to 44,000 years ago. Science 330: 78-81. ZOHARY, D., M. HOPF & E. WEISS. 2012. Domestication of plants in the Old World, 4th edn. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Plantation Archaeology James A. Delle Kutztown University of Pennsylvania, Kutztown, PA, USA Introduction The post-Columbian expansion of European colonial interests into the Americas, Africa, Oceania, Indonesia, and Southeast Asia resulted in the development of a number of strategies both for the settlement of European colonials and for the exploitation of natural resources, both Plantation Archaeology endemic and introduced. Among these strategies was the development of large-scale monocrop agricultural establishments that produced tropical and subtropical agricultural commodities for the European and colonial markets. By the early seventeenth century, these establishments became widely known in the English-speaking world as “plantations.” Having used a variety of labor extraction strategies to produce a variety of crops, many plantations were abandoned, or their landscapes transformed, by the early twentieth century, resulting in a rich archaeological record that has been systematically explored since the early 1970s. The scope of plantation archaeology extends from the US South through the Caribbean, the Atlantic and Indian Ocean islands, East Africa, and the Pacific. Definition Plantation archaeology is a somewhat difficult term to define, largely because the definition of “plantation” is itself somewhat ambiguous. In common practice, a plantation is a large-scale monocrop agricultural estate, generally worked by resident labor. However, the term “plantation” has historically been used to define vanguard colonial settlements, which may or may not focus on the production of agricultural commodities and which may include towns, farms, seignories, and other settlement forms. Hence, the sixteenth-century English settlement of lands escheated in Southwestern Ireland from the rebellious Earl of Desmond and his confederates was known as the Munster Plantation, the goal of which was to “plant” loyal English subjects into a hostile Irish landscape (Delle 1999), while the early seventeenth-century Ulster Plantation brought “British” subjects, both Scottish and English, to the northern counties of Ireland (see Lyttleton & Rynne 2009). The same concept of plantation informed the early English settlement of the New World, including the Plantation of Virginia and Plymouth Plantation; to this day the US state of Rhode Island is officially named the State of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations. 5979 P The concept of plantation as colony was similarly transferred to the initial British occupation of the Caribbean island of Barbados, which began in 1627. During the early seventeenth century, the British settlement of Barbados roughly followed the models established in Ireland, Virginia, and New England, inasmuch as the settlement of the island was marked by the establishment of relatively small farms, worked primarily by British yeomen and indentured servants, assisted by a relatively limited number of enslaved Africans. In the 1640s, large-scale sugar production was introduced to Barbados. Based on antecedents in Dutch-controlled Brazil and the Atlantic islands (Madeira, the Azores, and Cape Verde islands), the introduction of sugar cane production to Barbados resulted in the development of the plantation system, worked primarily with enslaved African laborers and their descendants. By the end of the eighteenth century, the term “plantation” would lose its sixteenth-century connotation and would primarily be used to describe a large, privately held estate, worked by coerced labor, and that produced agricultural commodities for export back to Europe. While some work has been done on the earliest “plantation” sites in Ireland (Lyttleton & Rynne 2009), Virginia (e.g., Noël Hume 1982), and New England (e.g., Deetz 1996), the majority of work defined as plantation archaeology has focused on the later manifestation of the plantation system and includes excavations and analyses of plantation great houses, overseers’ houses, industrial works, and the quarters and villages of enslaved and other coerced workers. Historical Background Although plantations in the US South were the focus of archaeology as early as the 1930s (e.g., Ford 1937; Noël Hume 1963), much of this early work was focused on reconstructing architectural details of the grand houses of elite plantation owners and rarely if ever considered the plantation as a unit of analysis (see Singleton 1985). The genesis of what is currently referred to as plantation archaeology can be traced to two P P 5980 projects, one conducted in the US South in the late 1960s and early 1970s, the other on the island of Barbados in the early 1970s. In the former, Charles Fairbanks led a team in the excavation of slave housing at Kingsley Plantation in northeastern Florida (Fairbanks 1974), in the latter, Jerome Handler and Frederick Lange led an archaeological investigation of the Newtown Plantation on Barbados (Handler & Lange 1978). In both projects archaeologists sought to understand the nature of the lives of the workers enslaved on the plantations within the context of the global commodities markets of which they were a part. In the case of the Kingsley Plantation site, Fairbanks and his students excavated slave quarter sites. On the Newtown Plantation site, Handler and Lange concentrated their efforts on analyzing the skeletal remains and material culture recovered during the excavation of a slaveperiod cemetery. In both cases, the archaeologists analyzed material culture to determine the degree that African cultural traits survived in the New World and in both cases appear to have been surprised that no discernible pattern of survival could be detected archaeologically. In the later 1970s and into the 1980s, an increasing number of plantation sites were excavated, particularly in the US South. Due in large measure to heritage management laws being passed by both the United States government and by the governments of its constituent states, large development projects in the US South began to incorporate archaeological investigations into preconstruction impact reports filed with various government agencies. Several important archaeological studies resulted from what was generally referred to as cultural resource management (CRM) studies on former plantations. Even where excavations were not mandated, thoughtful landowners occasionally funded excavations before destroying plantation sites. Among the first plantations to be systematically excavated and analyzed was the Cannon’s Point Plantation, the focus of a dissertation project in the early 1970s. The project, led by Fairbanks’s student John Solomon Otto, was conducted on one of the barrier islands off of Plantation Archaeology the coast of Georgia; the site was threatened by a planned subdevelopment on the island (Otto 1984). Rather than try to identify continuities with African antecedents, Otto focused his study on examining the plantation as a manifestation of complex society. Understanding that the hierarchical nature of the plantation economy would likely be reflected in the material culture of those who lived and worked on the estate – because plantation society was structured by both race and class – Otto hypothesized that status differentiation should be visible between the planters and overseers, and the overseers and slaves. Although status differentiation could be inferred based on the economic class of the parties involved, Otto’s greater contribution was in his methodology which considered the plantation as an integrated system that included a number of cultural and physical features. Practically simultaneous to Otto’s study in Georgia, William Kelso began a series of salvage excavations on the site of the former Kingsmill Plantations near Williamsburg, Virginia. Reportedly as part of a purchase agreement through which the Anheuser-Busch Corporation acquired the land from the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, the corporate owners of the Kingsmill tract agreed to fund archaeological investigations ahead of brewery, theme park, and upscale gated community development. Over the course of several years in the early 1970s, Kelso excavated 15 sites on the sprawling Kingsmill property that ranged in date from the early seventeenth through the late eighteenth century. The Kingsmill project succeeded in documenting how plantation landscapes had changed during the crucial moment when colonial investors shifted their strategies from rent extraction from tenant farmers to tobacco plantation production using enslaved African labor. At Kingsmill, Kelso was able to document how architectural styles and technologies changed during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Notably, Kelso’s project was among the first to identify “root cellars” in slave quarter sites, a feature now commonly recognized in earthfast structures associated with African descent people in Virginia (Kelso 1984). As had been the case with Otto’s study, Kelso had Plantation Archaeology the great advantage of examining numerous components of the site and thus contributed to the developing methodology of plantation archaeology, particularly concerning diachronic changes in plantation landscapes. In a similar project, Wheaton and Garrow analyzed material culture from two plantation sites known as Yaughan and Curribbo in the low country of southeastern South Carolina. By comparing assemblages from three slave quarters from the two plantation sites, the archaeologists focused on interpreting how enslaved populations adapted to their conditions of plantation life and labor, using the processual concept of acculturation to frame their analysis. Changes in plantation landscape and social organization in the United States did not end with the abolition of slavery following the cessation of the US Civil War. In another landmark plantation study funded by virtue of heritage management legislation, Charles Orser documented the transformation of the plantation landscape of Millwood Plantation, once the property of the Calhouns, one of South Carolina’s wealthiest and most powerful families. In his study of post-emancipation Millwood, Orser used archaeological evidence to analyze how both emancipated workers and their former slave masters adjusted to the conditions of the postbellum south and how the material realities of plantation life were transformed in such a way as to reinforce the existing plantation social hierarchy through the agency of tenant farming and sharecropping. Orser’s remains one of the few studies of an America plantation to focus specifically on post-emancipation social structures; his study is also notable for being among the first plantation studies to break from the constraints of the methodologies and theoretical constructs of processual archaeology, using a Marxian framework to understand the material record of economic and social constructs (Orser 1988). The practice of plantation archaeology has not been restricted to the United States. Inspired by the success of plantation archaeology in the US Southeast, several archaeologists subsequently conducted archaeological projects on Caribbean plantation sites. In the early 1980s, Douglas 5981 P Armstrong undertook the archaeological investigation of Drax Hall, a late seventeenth-/early eighteenth-century Jamaica sugar plantation. Armstrong’s study was notable for recognizing the importance of house yards to enslaved African-Jamaican plantation workers, as well as for his theoretical approach which sought to understand how plantation culture was transformative for all those enmeshed within it (Armstrong 1990). In a later study at Seville Plantation, Armstrong and his students were able to document variation in the spatial layout of temporally distinct slave villages within the same site (Armstrong & Kelly 2000). Barry Higman, an Australian historian who lived and worked in Jamaica for several decades, simultaneously excavated a plantation site at Montpelier Plantation. In Montserrat, the social geographer Lydia Pulsipher collaborated with the archaeologist Mac Goodwin to study historic land use patterns at Galways Plantation. Pulsipher and Goodwin’s work was notable as it incorporated the study of provision gardens into plantation archaeology. In much of the English Caribbean, particularly Jamaica, enslaved workers were required to provide food for themselves, which was generally grown both in kitchen gardens found in house yards and on small farms which they maintained in peripheral areas of plantations known as provision grounds. Pulsipher and Goodwin’s work was among the first to archaeologically explore this element of the plantation landscape (see Pulsipher & Goodwin 1999). By the 1990s many plantation archaeologists accepted that individual plantations were systems integrated into wider global socioeconomic systems. Following the political economic turn in anthropology that was then current, studies like that conducted by James Delle on coffee plantations in the Blue Mountains of Jamaica took a regional approach to the archaeological analysis of plantation landscapes. Delle (1998) argued that plantation landscapes were multi-scalar phenomena that could and should be analyzed at several scales, including the individual household, the village of which households were a component part, the plantation, and the P P 5982 region, defined either geographically or socially (Delle 1999, 2002, 2011). Similar studies were conducted on the Caribbean islands of St. Eustatius and Tobago (see section “Further Reading”). Key Issues Over the years, a number of key issues have been raised in plantation archaeology. Among the earliest and most persistent is the search for African “survivals,” sometimes called Africanisms, cultural traits that survived the middle passage over the Atlantic and that are represented in the material culture of enslaved populations. Early archaeologists were perplexed as to why African cultural traits were so rarely found on plantation sites; some early archaeologists concluded that the process of culture change, initially framed as acculturation, was rapid indeed. By the mid-1990s many plantation archaeologists abandoned the search for African survivals, and those still interested in the concept of culture change began to reimagine plantation communities as creolized communities, the process of creolization being one of ethnogenesis emerging from multiple antecedents and resulting in multiple local variants. Among the most fascinating of creolized material culture are a variety of low-fired earthenwares recovered from diverse plantation communities throughout the Caribbean and North America. Initially recognized as being produced by indigenous communities in the US Southeast, these ceramics were initially referred to as “Colono-Indian Ware” but were later recognized as having been produced, at least in part, by enslaved Africans and their descendants on southern plantations (Ferguson 1992). Similar ceramics have been identified and analyzed on multiple islands in the Caribbean including Jamaica (where they are called “yabba”), Guadeloupe, St. Eustatius, and Nevis. That some of the ceramics have been found in unusual contexts (like the bottom of rivers) and with unusual markings have led some archaeologists to conclude Plantation Archaeology that these ceramics were sometimes used in syncretic rituals by enslaved Africans and their descendants (Ferguson 1992). In both Caribbean and US plantation contexts, low-fired, locally produced earthenwares shift from being dominant in seventeenth- and early eighteenth-century assemblages to nearly disappearing by the opening decades of the nineteenth (Higman 1998). This recurring phenomenon has led archaeologists to explore the degree to which enslaved plantation communities exerted some level of economic sovereignty through the establishment of modes of exchange that existed beyond the control of the plantation owners and their white managers, using such exchange systems to purchase refined earthenwares imported from Europe (see section “Further Reading”). In the postcolonial context, phenomena such as this have resulted in some reconsideration of the nature of colonial enterprises and the inherent social relationships that existed on plantations as integrated components of those colonial realities. One of the key issues facing plantation archaeology is the degree to which plantation landscapes are preserved, and how such preserved landscapes are used to create historical interpretations about the plantation past. Private and public entities in the United States have gone to great lengths to preserve, restore, and interpret houses and landscapes associated with past American presidents. By historical coincidence, seven of the first ten American presidents (Washington, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Jackson, Harrison, Tyler) either grew up on or owned slave-based plantations as adults. Each of these houses has been preserve and is open to the public; at some of the houses, notably Washington’s Mt. Vernon, Jefferson’s Monticello, Madison’s Montpelier, and Jackson’s Hermitage, archaeology of the quarters of the enslaved has been incorporated into the historical interpretation of the houses and the early decades of US history. Presenting the issue of slavery to the public at such venues remains a difficult and sometimes controversial task. Like much historical archaeology practiced throughout the world, plantation archaeology Plantation Archaeology has increasingly incorporated local descendant communities and other stakeholders into the excavation, analysis, and interpretation of plantation sites. Among the most notable of such public archaeology programs is the long-term project conducted at the Levi Jordan Plantation in Texas (McDavid 1997). Again, like many different archaeologies now being practiced, plantation archaeology has increasingly been addressing issues of concern to local populations, including the difficult topics of race and racism, gender and sexuality, and power and resistance which are so deeply imbedded in the history and archaeology of plantations (see section “Further Reading”). 5983 P Africa, the majority of projects have been conducted on sugar, tobacco, and cotton plantations, primarily in the Atlantic Basin, and primarily worked by enslaved African laborers and their descendants. As plantation archaeology moves forward, more sites in the Indian Ocean, Central and Southern America, the Pacific Islands, and the former French Indochina will likely open new avenues for interpretation. Similarly, as the breadth of commodity production expands to, for example, bananas, pineapples, rubber, sisal, and citrus, our understanding of the material life of the plantation will undoubtedly become broader. Cross-References International Perspectives Plantation archaeology is, by its nature, an international pursuit. While plantation archaeology may have begun in the US South, it has been conducted on a number of Caribbean islands including Jamaica, Dominica, St. Croix, Cuba, the Bahamas, Guadeloupe, and Martinique. In recent years plantation archaeology has also been initiated in East Africa and Brazil and at Mexican haciendas in the Yucatán and Guerrero, among other localities (see section “Further Reading”). With several notable exceptions, particularly from Great Britain and France, the majority of plantation archaeology projects are still being conducted by historical archaeologists either born in the United States or now living there. Future Directions While the future is difficult to predict, there are several directions that plantation archaeology might take. Clearly, the public interpretation of enslavement on plantations will continue to be refined. The scope of plantation archaeology can likewise be expanded; again with some notable exceptions of projects conducted on coffee plantations in the Caribbean (Singleton 2001; Delle 2011; Reeves 2011) and clove plantations in East ▶ African Diaspora Archaeology ▶ Agrarian Landscapes of the Historic Period ▶ Atlantic World: Historical Archaeology ▶ Brazil: Historical Archaeology ▶ Caribbean Historical Archaeology ▶ Ceramics: Colonoware ▶ Colonial Williamsburg Foundation (CWF): Historical Archaeology ▶ Community Archaeology ▶ Consumption, Archaeology of ▶ Cultural Heritage and Communities ▶ Deetz, James (Historical Archaeology) ▶ Engendering Historical Archaeology ▶ Estate Landscapes in Historical Archaeology ▶ Ferguson, T. J. ▶ Hispanic South America: Historical Archaeology ▶ Historic Site and Historic Building Preservation: Overview ▶ Historical Archaeology in Latin America ▶ Mexico: Historical Archaeology ▶ Noël Hume, Ivor ▶ North America (USA): Historical Archaeology ▶ Orser, Jr., Charles E. ▶ Plimoth Plantation: Public Archaeology ▶ Sugarcane: Origins and Development P P 5984 Plantation Archaeology References ORSER, C.E., JR. 1988. The material basis of the Postbellum Tenant plantation: historical archaeology in the South Carolina Piedmont. Athens: University of Georgia Press. OTTO, J.S. 1984. Cannon’s Point plantation, 1784-1860: living conditions and status patterns in the Old South. Orlando: Academic Press. PULSIPHER, L.M. & C.M. GOODWIN. 1999. Here where the old time people be: reconstructing the landscapes of the slavery and post-slavery era on Montserrat, West Indies, in J.B. Haviser (ed.) African sites: archaeology in the Caribbean: 9-37. Kingston; Princeton (NJ): Ian Randle, Markus Weiner. SINGLETON, T.A. (ed.) 1985. The archaeology of slavery and plantation life. Orlando: Academic Press. ARMSTRONG, D.V. 1990. The old village and the great house: an archaeological and historical examination of Drax Hall plantation, St. Ann’s Bay, Jamaica. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. ARMSTRONG, D.V. & K.G. KELLY. 2000. Settlement patterns and the origins of African Jamaican society: Seville plantations, St. Ann’s Bay, Jamaica. Ethnohistory 47: 370-397. DEETZ, J. 1996. In small things forgotten: an archaeology of early American life, 2nd edn. New York: Anchor Books. DELLE, J.A. 1998. An archaeology of social space: analyzing coffee plantations in Jamaica’s Blue Mountains. New York: Plenum Press. - 1999. The landscapes of class negotiation on coffee plantations in the Blue Mountains of Jamaica, 1797-1850. Historical Archaeology 33: 136-158. - 2002. Power and landscape: spatial dynamics in early nineteenth-century Jamaica, in M. O’Donovan (ed.) The dynamics of power (Center for Archaeological Investigations, Occasional Paper 30): 341-61. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University. - 2011. The habitus of Jamaican plantation landscapes, in J.A. Delle, M.W. Hauser & D.V. Armstrong (ed.) Out of many, one people: the historical archaeology of colonial Jamaica: 122-43. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. FAIRBANKS, C. 1974. The Kingsley slave cabins in Duval County, Florida, 1968. The Conference on Historic Sites Archaeology 7: 62-93. FERGUSON, L. 1992. Uncommon ground: archaeology and early African America, 1650-1800. Washington (DC): Smithsonian Institution Press. FORD, J.A. 1937. An archaeological report on the Elizafield ruins, in E.M. Coulter (ed.) Georgia’s disputed ruins: 193-205. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. HANDLER, J.S. & F. LANGE. 1978. Plantation slavery in Barbados: an archaeological and historical investigation. Cambridge (MA): Harvard University Press. HIGMAN, B.W. 1998. Montpelier, Jamaica: a plantation community in slavery and freedom, 1739-1912. Mona: Press University of the West Indies. KELSO, W.M. 1984. Kingsmill plantations, 1619-1800: archaeology of country life in colonial Virginia. New York: Academic Press. LYTTLETON, J. & C. RYNNE. (ed.) 2009. Plantation Ireland: settlement and material culture, c. 1550-1700. Dublin: Four Courts Press. MCDAVID, C. 1997. Descendants, decisions, and power: the public interpretation of the archaeology of the Levi Jordan plantation. Historical Archaeology 31: 114-131. NOËL HUME, I. 1963. Here lies Virginia: an archaeologist’s view of colonial life and history. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia. - 1982. Martins Hundred. New York: Alfred Knopf. Further Reading ARMSTRONG, D.V. 2011. Reflections on Seville: rediscovering the African Jamaican settlements at Seville plantation, St. Ann’s Bay, in J.A. Delle, M.W. Hauser & D.V. Armstrong (ed.) Out of many, one people: the historical archaeology of colonial Jamaica: 77-101. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. CAMPOSECO GONZÁLEZ, J.R. 2003. Estudio arqueológico sobre el origen étnico y residencia de la fuerza de trabajo durante los primeros años del México independiente en el ingenio azucarero de “San Nicolás de Ayotla”, Oaxaca, México. Unpublished BA dissertation, Escuela Nacional de Antropologı́a e Historia. CLEMENT, C.O. 1997. Settlement patterning on the British Caribbean island of Tobago. Historical Archaeology 3: 93-10. CROUCHER, S.K. 2007. Clove plantations on 19th century Zanzibar: possibilities for gender archaeology in Africa. Journal of Social Archaeology 7: 302‐324. DAWDY, S.L. (ed.).2000. Creolization. Special Issue. Historical Archaeology 34(3). DEETZ, J. 1993. Flowerdew Hundred: the archaeology of a Virginia plantation, 1619-1864. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press. DELLE, J.A. 1994. The settlement pattern of sugar plantations on St. Eustatius, Netherlands Antilles, in D.W. Robinson & G.G. Robinson (ed.) Spatial patterning in archaeology: selected studies of settlement: 33-61. Williamsburg (VA): King and Queen’s Press. - 2000 Gender, power and space: negotiating social relations under slavery on coffee plantations in Jamaica, 1790-1834, in J.A. Delle, S.A. Mrozowski & R. Paynter (ed.) Lines that divide: historical archaeologies of race, class and gender: 168-201. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press. - 2009. The governor and the enslaved: an archaeology of colonial modernity at Marshall’s Pen, Jamaica. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 12: 488-512. DELPUECH, A. 2001. Historical archaeology in the French West Indies: recent research in Guadeloupe, in P. Farnsworth (ed.) Island lives: historical archaeologies Plimoth Plantation: Public Archaeology of the Caribbean: 21-59. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. EPPERSON, T.W. 1990. Race and the disciplines of the plantation. Historical Archaeology 24: 29-36. FENNELL, C. 2003. Group identity, individual creativity, and symbolic generation in a BaKongo diaspora. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 7: 1-31. HAUSER, M.W. 2008. An archaeology of black markets: local ceramics and local economies in eighteenthcentury Jamaica. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. HAUSER, MARK W. & D.V. ARMSTRONG. 2012. Archaeology of being ungoverned: a comparison of two settlements and their economic networks in the eastern Caribbean. Journal of Social Archaeology 12: 1-24. KELLY, K.G. 2008. Creole cultures of the Caribbean: historical archaeology in the French West Indies. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 12: 388-402. LENIK, S. 2008. Considering multiscalar approaches to creolization among enslaved laborers at Estate Bethlehem, St. Croix, US Virgin Islands. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 13: 12-26. MURRIETA FLORES, P.A. 2008. El proceso productivo del azúcar en época colonial y sus materiales arqueológicos: el caso de la Hacienda de Tecoyutla, Guerrero. Arqueologı́a 38: 90–111. REEVES, M. 2011. Household market activities among early nineteenth century Jamaican slaves: an archaeological case study from two slave settlements, in J.A. Delle, M.W. Hauser & D.V. Armstrong (ed.) Out of many, one people: the historical archaeology of colonial Jamaica: 183-210. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. SAMFORD, P. 2007. Subfloor pits and the archaeology of slavery in colonial Virginia. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. SINGLETON, T.A. 2001. Slavery and spatial dialectics on Cuban coffee plantations. World Archaeology 33: 98-114. SINGLETON, T.A. & M.A.T. DE SOUZA. 2009. Archaeologies of the African diaspora: Brazil, Cuba and the United States, in T. Majewski & D. Gaimster (ed.) International handbook of historical archaeology: 449-469. New York: Springer. SWEITZ, S.R. 2012. On the periphery of the periphery: household archaeology at Hacienda San Juan Bautista Tabi, Yucatán, Mexico. New York: Springer. WHEATON, T.R. & P.H. GARROW. 1985. Acculturation and the archaeological record in the Carolina Lowcountry, in T.A. Singleton (ed.) The archaeology of slavery and plantation life: 239-260. Orlando: Academic Press. WILKIE, L.A. 2001. Methodist intentions and African sensibilities: the victory of African consumerism over plantation paternalism at a Bahamian plantation, in P. Farnsworth (ed.) Island lives: historical archaeologies of the Caribbean: 272-300. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. 5985 P WILKIE, L.A. & P. FARNSWORTH. 2005. Sampling many pots: an archaeology of memory and tradition at a Bahamian plantation. Gainesville: The University of Florida Press. Plimoth Plantation: Public Archaeology Karin J. Goldstein Collections and Library, Plimoth Plantation, Plymouth, MA, USA Introduction Plimoth Plantation, an open-air living history museum located in Plymouth, Massachusetts, uses archaeology to shed light on the past. Established in 1947, the museum interprets the history of the seventeenth-century English colonists later called the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag Native people who have lived in the area for millennia. Today, the museum features a recreated seventeenth-century English Village, a recreated Wampanoag summer Homesite, a Crafts Center, and a replica of the ship Mayflower that brought the colonists to New England in 1620. Definition The history of Plimoth Plantation is closely tied to the development of historical archaeology in New England. The museum’s founder, Henry (Harry) Hornblower II (1917–1985), prepared himself for a career in archaeology, but, following WWII, poured his energies into founding a living history museum instead, which he established on his family’s summer estate three miles south of Plymouth Rock. His encouragement and guidance helped establish historical archaeology as a field in the 1960s and 1970s. Today, more than 60 years later, Plimoth Plantation uses experimental P P 5986 archaeology, artifacts, and traditional technologies to recreate the seventeenth century. Key Issues Narrative/Examples While summering in Plymouth as a boy, Harry was introduced to archaeology by the estate gardener, Jesse Brewer. While most of their collecting involved surface hunting, in 1934, Harry and his brother uncovered a ContactPeriod Wampanoag burial site on the estate. Harry’s father Ralph, a Boston stockbroker, called in expert help: archaeologist Fred Johnson from the Peabody Museum at Harvard University, who became a mentor to Harry. Harry prepared himself for a career in archaeology. He studied at Harvard University with historian Samuel Eliot Morison and archaeologists Doug Byers and J.O. Brew. Additionally, Harry spent a year at the University of California at Berkeley studying anthropology with Alfred Kroeber. After several years of excavating and surveying, Harry decided to focus on “cellar hole archaeology” or archaeology of the English colonists. Along with colleagues from the Harvard Excavators’ Club, he dug at two Plymouth County sites in 1940–1941: the RM Site on the Hornblower property and the Winslow Site in Marshfield (Gomes 1985; Beaudry & George 1987; Beaudry et al. 2003). Another of Harry’s mentors was Charles Strickland, a Boston architect with ties to historical Plymouth. Strickland and his father, Sidney, had excavated a site associated with Pilgrim John Howland, just north of Plymouth, in 1937 (Beaudry & George 1987). Strickland worked with Harry on developing a driving trail of Pilgrim houses. A family friend connected Harry with the National Park Service, which had been using federal relief money to excavate Jamestown in Virginia. As Harry’s correspondence indicates, the NPS was considering undertaking a project in Plymouth in 1939. Harry discussed several ideas, including Strickland’s proposed driving trail, to present seventeenth-century life in context. Plimoth Plantation: Public Archaeology World War II interrupted the Park Service’s ideas of coming to Plymouth, as well as Harry’s career path. Following service in the OSS in Europe, Harry returned to his wife and son in Boston and joined the family brokerage firm. In 1945, Harry’s father Ralph donated $20,000 to the Pilgrim Society, which operated a museum of Pilgrim possessions, located in downtown Plymouth. A traditional museum housed in a neoclassical structure, Pilgrim Hall, displayed Pilgrim relics in cases. Ralph’s donation was to further his son’s vision of contextualizing the artifacts in reconstructed houses (Gomes 1985; Baker 1997). It became evident that the project was beyond the scope of the Pilgrim Society, so Plimoth Plantation was founded in 1947. Its purpose was “. . .to [further] the historical education of the public with respect to the struggles of the early settlers in the Town of Plymouth, with the expansion of that settlement and the influence of the Pilgrim Fathers throughout the world” (Articles of Incorporation). Harry envisioned a Pilgrim Village, a recreated Mayflower, and a Wampanoag exhibit. To this end, Harry assembled a team of foremost historians, architects, and archaeologists to advise him. To test the idea, two recreated structures were built on parkland near Plymouth Rock. First House opened in 1949, and First Fort two years later. Both buildings reflected current information from excavations and restoration projects (Baker 1997). In 1955, Harry’s grandmother bequeathed him part of the family estate so that Harry could expand his project to encompass an entire village. Four years later, Plimoth Plantation opened at its current site, featuring four recreated houses as well as the replica fort that had been moved from the waterfront. To implement the museum’s original intention of portraying Natives as well as Pilgrims, Harry hired Dr. James Deetz, a young archaeologist from Harvard University, in 1959 to create a Native exhibit, which included stone tool demonstrations and a bark wigwam. Later that year, Harry encouraged Deetz to excavate his first colonial site, the Bartlett Site, located just Plimoth Plantation: Public Archaeology Plimoth Plantation: Public Archaeology, Fig. 1 James Deetz and Harry Hornblower at the Bradford Site, Kingston, MA, 1966 south of the museum. Deetz soon began to focus on the new field of historical archaeology, both in his position at Plimoth Plantation, and as a professor at Brown University (Deetz 1977; Deetz & Deetz 2000). Dozens of archaeologists who are still working today studied with Deetz in the 1960s and 1970s (Fig. 1). Major Impact In 1965, Deetz led Plimoth Plantation in a selfassessment. Taking into account the new social history and its emphasis on everyday life, the museum began to shift toward living history. The museum added livestock to its recreated landscapes. Hosts and hostesses in tidy “Pilgrim” clothes were replaced by more authentically garbed interpreters, who performed daily chores and activities (Baker 1997; Travers 2010). Archaeology began to influence the appearance of Plimoth Plantation, as the museum incorporated new evidence from excavations led by Deetz as well as research by architectural historians like Richard Candee and Cary Carson. A new village structure, Hopkins House, was built in 1968, reflecting current research in timber framing. Building activities like thatching were completed in front of the public. 5987 P In 1972, a salvage excavation (C-21 Allerton Site) at a construction site in nearby Kingston, MA, yielded an exciting find—posthole evidence for earthfast colonial structures (Deetz & Deetz 2000). Museum staff built the Billington House in the English Village, designed by architectural historian Henry Glassie, based on these finds. The house was earthfast, built to a similar size as the structure at the Allerton Site (Baker 1997; Travers 2010). That same year, Plimoth Plantation established the Native Studies Program, which worked with local Native communities to improve the Native exhibit. Staff from the Wampanoag, Narragansett, and other nations used a combination of archaeological evidence, oral tradition, and experimental archaeology to construct and interpret a summer Wampanoag Homesite with buildings and cornfields (Baker 1997; Travers 2010) (Fig. 2). Plimoth Plantation’s commitment to experimental archaeology expanded over the next decade. In 1978, staff in the village began firstperson interpretation, immersing themselves in the characters of specific Pilgrims. As a result of a 1984 NEH-funded research grant, staff traveled to England and the Netherlands to better understand the villages, towns, and cities where the colonists originated. Museum artisans began working with British architectural historians such as Richard Harris to recreate buildings like the new Fort/Meetinghouse, erected in 1986. Staff built new structures in costume, in front of the public, using period tools and techniques (Baker 1997; Travers 2010). In 1999, the museum officially identified the historical sources used by staff members to research and fabricate the English Village and Wampanoag Homesite exhibits. In addition to documentary sources, contemporary images, and artifacts, the museum is committed to the use of recreated technologies and experimental archaeology to recreate material aspects of the past. Plimoth Plantation’s Crafts Center has been a center for recreating seventeenth-century technologies since 1992. Staffed by colonial and Native craftsmen, the Crafts Center produces authentic reproductions of period artifacts for P P 5988 Plimoth Plantation: Public Archaeology Plimoth Plantation: Public Archaeology, Fig. 2 Women tending gardens at the recreated Wampanoag Homesite use in the outdoor exhibits. Potters examine archaeological ceramics to reproduce forms and decoration. Reproductions of English pottery include Borderware (aka Tudor Greenware) and North Devon slipware. Native potters examine the incised designs on shards from local excavations to make pots for use at the Wampanoag Homesite. Experimental archaeology at the museum is closely tied to recreated technologies. In 2001, Crafts Center staff worked with archaeologists David Dawson and Oliver Kent to construct a brick and stone wood-fired kiln (White 2002), using information from excavations in Devon and Somerset. The wood-fired kiln is used several times a year. Another ongoing project involving experimental archaeology is the construction of outdoor wood-fired bread ovens in the English Village. While staff members have been baking in woodfired ovens since the 1980s, museum researchers have tried to make ovens more authentic each time they rebuild one. The temporary nature of ovens made of mud allows staff and archaeologists to study what remains in the soil after they collapse. Sources for wood-fired ovens include cloam ovens from Devon, as well as engravings by French explorer Samuel de Champlain (Marcoux in press). Experimental archaeology is a major part of the house-building program in the English Village. As the village is set in the year 1627, 7 years after the first colonists arrived, houses are continually replaced, so they do not look more than 7 years old. The ongoing program allows museum artisans to use evidence from current excavations. The museum’s blacksmith relies heavily on archaeological artifacts in making hardware used in building the village structures. Each time a replica building is taken down, staff and archaeologists carefully examine what traces are left in the ground. Archaeologists like Emerson Baker use this information to help them interpret traces of earthfast structures at sites in northern New England (Fig. 3). Archaeology is an important source in recreating the Wampanoag Homesite as well. Based on findings from the excavation of a Cape Cod cornfield, as well as documentary sources, Wampanoag Indigenous Program staff plant the corn in mounds, using fish as fertilizer, as was done for centuries (Nanepashemet 1993; Mrozowski 1994; Wall 2002). Plimoth Plantation horticulturalists have tapped into archaeological research to furnish the exhibits with periodappropriate plants like multicolored eight-row flint corn, researched by plant geneticists from the University of Massachusetts. Plimoth Plantation: Public Archaeology 5989 P Plimoth Plantation: Public Archaeology, Fig. 3 Artisans hewing lumber in the recreated English Village P Plimoth Plantation: Public Archaeology, Fig. 4 Artisan Brian Bartibogue (Miq’ Mac) demonstrates stone working in the Crafts Center Today, public archaeology is an integral part of Plimoth Plantation’s interpretation. In addition to exhibits in the Visitor Center, the museum interprets archaeology to the public in various ways. Sites on the museum’s property, including the Wampanoag Homesite, have been excavated by the University of Massachusetts, particularly by the late Barbara Luedtke (Luedtke 1994). A Native artisan in the museum’s Crafts Center displays some of these finds from the property alongside of the reproductions he makes in front of the public. Native interpreters are careful to use slightly different materials in their demonstrations, so reproduction artifacts are not confused with originals by future excavators (Fig. 4). For more than 60 years, Plimoth Plantation has followed the vision of its founder, Harry Hornblower, focusing on historical archaeology as a means to present seventeenth-century life to the modern public. P 5990 Poland: Cultural Heritage Management Cross-References ▶ Beaudry, Mary C. ▶ Deetz, James (Theory) ▶ Interpretation (Including Historic Reenactments): Current Approaches ▶ North America (USA): Historical Archaeology Poland: Cultural Heritage Management Arkadiusz Marciniak Institute of Prehistory, University of Poznan, Poznan, Poland Introduction References BEAUDRY, M. & D. GEORGE. 1987. Old data, new findings: 1940s archaeology at Plymouth reexamined. American Archaeology 6: 20–30. BEAUDRY, M., K. GOLDSTEIN & C. CHARTIER. 2003. Archaeology of Plymouth Colony in Massachusetts. Avalon Chronicles 8. The English in America 1497–1696: 155–186. BAKER, J. 1997. Plimoth Plantation: fifty years of living history. Plymouth, Massachusetts: Plimoth Plantation. DEETZ, J. 1977. In small things forgotten: the archaeology of early American life. New York: Anchor Books. DEETZ, J. & P.S. DEETZ. 2000. The times of their lives: life, love, and death in Plymouth Colony. New York: W.H. Freeman. GOMES, P. 1985. Henry Hornblower II. Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society 97: 157–160. LUEDTKE, B.E. 1994. The Plimoth Plantation Spring Site, 19 PL 522. Bulletin of the Massachusetts Archaeological Society 55: 61–73. MARCOUX, P. in press. Bread and permanence, in P. Pope (ed.) Proceedings of the 2010 Conference, Society for Post Medieval Archaeology. MROZOWSKI, S. 1994. The discovery of a native cornfield on Cape Cod. Archaeology of Eastern North America 22: 47–62. NANEPASHEMET. 1993. It smells fishy to me: an argument supporting the use of fish fertilizer by the Native people of southern New England, in P. Benes (ed.) Algonkians of New England, past and present: 42–50. Boston: Boston University. TRAVERS, C. 2010. Pilgrims come alive, in Beyond Plymouth Rock: America’s hometown in the 20th century, Volume II: a welcoming place: 89–94. Plymouth (MA): Plymouth Public Library Corporation. WALL, K. 2002. Corn 101: ‘More precious than silver’: foodways and corn in Plymouth, in D.A. Reid (ed.) Proceedings of the 2001 ALHFAM Conference and Annual Meeting, Volume 24: 161–165. WHITE, K. 2002. Firing up the Kiln. Plimoth Life 1: 2–4. Polish archaeology belongs to the Central European school of archaeological thought (e.g., Härke 2002; Marciniak 2006). It is a specific version of the culture-historical school characterized by diffusion and migration as major causative factors of culture change, spatial and temporal dimensions of material culture presented in the form of archaeological cultures and research strategies applying principles of inductionism and empiricism and concentrated upon describing and cataloguing empirical material, typological methods, and relative chronology. It has deliberately avoided any substantial theoretical debate. Historical Background Archaeology practiced in communist-governed Poland (1945–1989) was a state-funded discipline divided into four sectors with clearly defined roles and duties. These comprised (1) the Polish Academy of Sciences in charge of conducting research and setting up academic standards, (2) university departments responsible for education supplemented by research activities, (3) museums aimed at handling collections and presenting them to the public, and (4) a state heritage body known as the Centers for Monument Protection to protect and manage archaeological materials and conduct small-scale rescue excavations. Protection of archaeological sites and objects was regarded as a relatively unproblematic and straightforward enterprise but treated with little esteem by the archaeological community, the politicians, and the general public alike. Polish archaeology as well as cultural and archaeological heritage management policies Poland: Cultural Heritage Management and practices changed dramatically over the last two decades following the collapse of the Iron Curtain and the Poland’s ascension to the European Union. This period has been marked by the implementation of European regulations and development of a new doctrine of archaeological heritage. It is further characterized by greater destruction of this heritage due to unprecedented large-scale large investments, intensive agriculture, commercialization, and new dimensions of public engagement (see also Lozny 1998; Kobyliński 2001a: 17). These developments led to the replacement of the hierarchical system of practicing archaeology by the application of neoliberal solutions in the archaeological heritage sector (Marciniak 2011). Investors became major sponsors of archaeological works and the market became a driving force in the archaeological practice. Key Issues Cultural and Archaeological Heritage Management The idea of cultural heritage management was introduced in the post-1989 period following a steady move of funding responsibilities from the state to private developers. The concept of “management” implies decision making regarding the aims and means of attaining certain goals, selection of priorities, and a holistic approach to the research process. Managerial decisions based on argued presentation and justification has led to important changes in capturing archaeological data and assessing their significance and value. It also brought about new concerns regarding professional standards and accountability. One of major developments in this period was increasing awareness of rapid destruction of archaeological sites and objects. Archaeologists have slowly become aware of their own responsibility to protect them (Kobyliński 2001a: 19). This has resulted in departing from hitherto used term “archaeological record” and replacing it by “archaeological heritage.” It has been defined by as a finite nonrenewable physical and material resource. Each element of this heritage arguably 5991 P possesses a unique value and collectively contributes to the cultural richness of the country and increasing understanding and knowledge of past societies. Consequently, archaeological substance has shifted from the scientific to the public domain and has been ascribed its cultural and social significance (Kobyliński 2001b: 77). Archaeology as a discipline began to be perceived and practiced as a public service. Protection and management of archaeological heritage is then no longer a matter of concern of the academic community but the public at large. Legal Framework of Protection and Management of Archaeological Heritage in Poland The last decade of the twentieth century brought about the emergence of a number of significant charters and conventions dealing with the conservation and preservation of cultural heritage issued by ICOMOS and the Council of Europe. They offered responses to emerging conservation and heritage issues. The questions they raised had a profound impact upon establishing a new doctrine of archaeological heritage in Poland as well as across Europe more generally. Particularly important were the 1990 ICOMOS Charter for the Protection and Management of the Archaeological Heritage (Lausanne Charter) and the European Convention on the Protection of the Archaeological Heritage of 1992 (Malta Convention). They defined policies for the protection of the archaeological heritage as constituting an integral component of policies relating to land use, development, and planning as well as of cultural, environmental, and educational policies at international, national, regional, and local levels. Less influential proved to be the 2000 Council of Europe’s European Landscape Convention addressing protection, management, and enhancement of the European landscape. Implementation of numerous issues advocated by these conventions has significantly broadened and strengthened the goals of archaeology to include, alongside research and valorization, also the integrated management, protection, and promotion of common shared archaeological heritage. Sites need be integrated within the historic P P 5992 landscape, viewed holistically and not any longer perceived as consisting of only monumental objects. This approach can be seen as an outline of the new Polish doctrine of archaeological heritage. These issues were combined in new legislation known as the Protection of Monuments and the Guardianship of Monuments Act, which was passed by the Polish parliament in 2003. The provisions of the Act stipulate that all archaeological sites regardless their quality and significance are protected by law. Investors have been officially obliged to cover all costs of preventive archaeological works including excavations, documentation, analysis, and publication of the results. Their research standards should remain identical to that of research projects. It is required that excavated materials are professionally analyzed and preferably published. They need to undergo proper conservation, whenever needed. A legislative framework for large-scale rescue projects is provided by the Space Management and the Building and Construction Act as well as the Law for Highway Constructions in Poland, both passed in 1994. Institutional Framework of Protection and Management of Archaeological Heritage in Poland The new legislation led to considerable changes in the organizational structure of institutions responsible for protection and management of archaeological heritage, in particular in the context of the dynamically growing number of preventive archaeology projects. This structure, however, has been in a constant flux resulting from different solutions put forward by subsequent governments. Consequently, an effective administrative system in this domain is still lacking. At present, there are two major institutions responsible for protection and management of cultural and archaeological heritage operating within two different administrative contexts. The National Heritage Board of Poland is the state agency responsible for the national heritage. The office reports directly to the Minister of Culture and National Heritage. It is officially responsible for implementing the State’s policy in the Poland: Cultural Heritage Management domain of national heritage. Its major objectives comprise setting up standards in the protection of national heritage, recording, documenting, and maintaining this heritage, and presenting it to the public. At the same time, protection and management of cultural and archaeological heritage is the sole responsibility of the offices of the Provincial Conservator of Monuments operating in each of the country’s 16 country provinces. They are responsible to the Provincial Governor, who himself is responsible to the Prime Minister. These offices are in charge of preparing and implementing the system of protection of culture heritage in their regions, collecting and archiving information about this heritage, monitoring existing cultural resources and integrating cultural heritage with natural landscape, spatial planning, and urban development. They are also responsible for issuing excavation permits and supervising all archaeological works. Two contradictory solutions were also proposed in regard to management of large-scale preventive excavation projects. The first model assumed a leading role for a special institution operating under the auspices of the Ministry of Culture and National Heritage. It was in charge of selecting the contractor for archaeological works and their subsequent control. The provincial conservator offices were only responsible for issuing formal permits and remained in fact excluded from the decision making regarding other elements of the project. The second model allocated a leading role in these projects to the provincial conservation offices. In both models, some degree of professional control over standards and quality of preventive works was retained. The current situation is considerably different. A special central governmental body responsible for large-scale preventive works no longer exists. The National Heritage Board of Poland in fact decided to withdraw from this duty leaving a vacuum with no independent quality control of works conducted during large-scale infrastructure projects by any external professional body. Selecting the contractor for archaeological work is now exclusively in hands of the investor. Controlling and reviewing responsibilities of such Poland: Cultural Heritage Management work are conducted by the investor-appointed committees made up of investor-employed administrative staff, including archaeologists. This obviously rules out objectivity and neutrality of quality control. Preventive Archaeology in Large-Scale Infrastructure Projects The last 20 years were marked by huge infrastructure projects that demanded large-scale preventive excavations in association with pan-European and national investments. In particular, these comprised the pipeline from Siberia to Western Europe and the network of highways and expressways. Preventive excavations related to the construction of the gas pipe in the early 1990s was the first major undertaking in the post-1989 period. It was carried out under the legal provisions established during the communist period but the wealthy Polish-Russian investor – EuroPolGaz – expressed good will and agreed to finance all archaeological works. The inception of gas pipeline preventive excavation projects initiated serious discussions on legal, organizational, and methodological standards of fieldwork and their implementation in practice. More generally, they set a precedent for the formulation of a new doctrine for the conservation and protection of archaeological heritage in the country. After some modifications, it was later implemented during highways projects. The Polish highway program was passed in June 1995 and has been aimed at construction of 2,300 km of highways along with numerous expressways. Archaeological preventive excavations have been conducted in a strip of 80–100 m wide and have been pursued continuously since 1997. This huge undertaking involves a complex program which aims to detect, investigate, and document archaeological sites threatened by adverse effects due to scheduled constructions. Large-scale infrastructure projects associated with these investments, built mainly by public and private investors largely in the Build-Operate-Transfer system, demanded preventive excavations and contributed to the commercialization of archaeological activities. 5993 P This shift is manifested in the emergence of a large number of private archaeological companies, a tendency reported also in other countries of the region. Major Challenges in Protection and Management Archaeological Heritage in Poland Large infrastructure projects demanding archaeological works of unprecedented scale has rapidly and significantly reshaped Polish archaeology and created many unforeseen consequences. The discipline has been confronted with a huge number of excavations to be conducted at a fast pace and at a scale never experienced before. As a result, the vast majority of archaeological fieldwork in present-day Poland is almost exclusively carried out within the framework of preventive archaeology before the planned infrastructural projects. This includes survey, evaluation, recording, noninvasive prospection, and excavations. One of the consequences of these developments is commercialization of the archaeological profession. The demand for contract work led to the setting up of numerous private archaeological firms and the emergence of a new and previously unknown category of professional group on the market. This move can undoubtedly be regarded as almost “revolutionary,” especially considering the previously dominant model of small, almost “family” excavations. With the advent of free-market regulations, the contractor is now being chosen on a commercial basis in a system of tendering in which the decisive factor is exclusively the proposed price. Offers proposed by private firms are commonly chosen due to their lower costs and possibility to complete allocated tasks in increasingly shorter time slots. Academic institutions are slowly being removed from this market. The increasingly tight financial conditions and extremely short periods for preventive archaeology work make it clear that an implementation of the standard research routines is difficult to achieve. For example, in one of the 2009 tenders for archaeological works, the investor required excavations of 25 ha be completed in a period P P 5994 of three months. In September 2008, in order to speed up the construction of highways in Poland, the General Directorate for National Roads and Motorways – the major investor – passed a law requiring a decision of the placement of any highway or expressway be linked with the permission for its construction. This means that all stages of archaeological works (e.g., survey, evaluation, legal and administrative procedures, as well as excavations) are to inevitably coincide with construction works. To comply with increasingly tight requirements and lower tenders offered by the contractor, archaeological firms reduce a number of professional analyses they do and lower the standards of scientific documentation in order to accelerate the archaeological works and maintain the same level of income. Consequently, the quality of some of these works is below acceptable standards. Another unacceptable practice involves a deliberate falsifying of archaeological documentation to report an incorrect number of features. This situation led also to a growing number of unpublished archaeological data obtained during these excavations (see also Kobyliński 2006: 229–30). Unfortunately, neither the National Heritage Board of Poland nor provincial conservation offices have the necessary tools and resources to stop unethical and illegal practices. The last two decades also marked the use of archaeological evidence for the creation of collective memories of local communities but in a manner different from past uses when archaeology was used to justify nationalistic claims. The public has become increasingly recognized as a stakeholder in the decision-making process regarding heritage management and its role as a consumer of the products of archaeological activity is apparent. Advances in information technology have enforced greater openness of archaeological activities and resulted in the breakdown of the previously dominant elitist attitudes of the professional archaeological circles. This tendency has been manifested in a rapidly growing number of popular open-air festivals and fairs. The largest of them takes place annually in Biskupin, the icon of Polish archaeology, and has Poland: Cultural Heritage Management become a model for similar events organized by local museums across Poland. The first festival in Biskupin was organized in 1995 and was attended by c. 50,000 visitors (Brzeziński 1998: 499), and the number of spectators in succeeding years increased. The festivals proved to be commercially successful, though their anticipated educational functions have largely remained unmet. In order to attract visitors there is a tendency to create a mélange of various episodes from the past. Thus, the ancient Egyptians interact with the Slavs reenacting their medieval appearance, who themselves stand next to the prehistoric flint knappers. Serious public outreach projects do not exist. Future Directions Developments in protection and management of cultural and archaeological heritage are very dynamic in Poland. These processes have been recently further shaped by the global crisis and its consequences. Its impact on archaeology in Poland to date has not been as significant as in other countries in Europe and worldwide. Its effects has been diminished by a large number of continuing highway and expressway projects in relation to the Euro 2012 soccer tournament as well as a relatively good situation in the housing construction sector and real estate market. Rapid changes in the last two decades led to absolute domination of private firms on the market of preventive archaeology contracts. Academic archaeology has had to accept that a vast majority of field activities has already been undertaken beyond its control. This milieu needs to work out an efficient strategy of accommodating the rapidly growing number of archaeological materials that need to be systematically studied, published, and properly stored. In overall, the last two decades in protection and management of cultural and archaeological heritage in Poland have been characterized by emergence of new challenges solutions but also by a series of unresolved problems and issues. The legal and organizational framework remains imprecise and malfunctioned in places. There is no professional institution in charge of setting up, Polar Exploration Archaeology (North) effectively controlling and enforcing standards of preventive works, and public procurement law and free-market regulations are unclear contributing to lowering standards and quality of archaeological works. Cross-References ▶ Cultural Heritage and the Public ▶ European Association of Archaeologists (EAA) ▶ Heritage Theory ▶ International Council on Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS) (Museums) ▶ Nationalism and Archaeology: Overview ▶ Stakeholders and Community Participation ▶ UNESCO (1972) and Malta (1992) Conventions References BRZEZIŃSKI, W. 1998. Museum archaeology and the protection of the archaeological heritage in Poland, in W. Hensel, S. Tabaczyński & P. Urbańczyk (ed.) Theory and practice of archaeological research, Volume III: dialogue with the data. The archaeology of complex societies and its context in the ‘90s: 496-503. Warsaw: Institute of Archaeology and Ethnology Polish Academy of Sciences. HÄRKE, H. 2002. The German experience, in H. Härke (ed.) Archaeology, ideology and society. The German experience, 2nd rev. edn. 13-40. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. KOBYLIŃSKI, Z. 2001a. Quo vadis archaeologia? Introductory remarks, in Z. Kobyliński (ed.) Quo vadis archaeologia? Whither European archaeology in the 21st century?: 17-20. Warsaw: Institute of Archaeology and Ethnology Polish Academy of Sciences. - 2001b. Archaeological sources and archaeological heritage. New vision of the subject matter of archaeology, in Z. Kobyliński (ed.) Quo vadis archaeologia Whither European archaeology in the 21st century?: 76-82. Warsaw: Institute of Archaeology and Ethnology Polish Academy of Sciences. - 2006. Protection, maintenance and enhancement of cultural landscapes in changing social, political and economical reality in Poland, in L. Lozny (ed.) Landscapes under pressure. Theory and practice of cultural heritage research and preservation: 207236. New York: Kluwer/Plenum. LOZNY, L. 1998. Public archaeology or archaeology for the public? in W. Hensel, S. Tabaczyński & P. Urbańczyk (ed.) Theory and practice of archaeological research, 5995 P Volume III: dialogue with the data. The archaeology of complex societies and its context in the ‘90s: 431-59. Warsaw: Institute of Archaeology and Ethnology Polish Academy of Sciences. MARCINIAK, A. 2006. Central European archaeology at the crossroads, in R. Layton, S. Shennan & P. Stone (ed.) A future for archaeology. The past in the present: 157-71. London: UCL Press. - 2011. Contemporary Polish archaeology in global context, in L.R. Lozny (ed.) Comparative archaeologies. A sociological view of the science of the past: 179-94. New York: Springer. Further Reading BARFORD, P.M. & Z. KOBYLIŃSKI. 1998. Protecting the archaeological heritage in Poland at the end of the 1990s, in W. Hensel, S. Tabaczyński & P. Urbańczyk (ed.) Theory and practice of archaeological research, Volume III: dialogue with the data. The archaeology of complex societies and its context in the ‘90s: 461-82. Warsaw: Institute of Archaeology and Ethnology Polish Academy of Sciences. BARFORD, P.M. 2002. East is East and West is West? Power and paradigm in European archaeology, in P.F. Biehl, A. Gramsch & A. Marciniak (ed.) Archaeologies of Europe. Histories, methods and theories: 77-97. Münster: Waxmann Verlag. BIEHL, P.F., A. GRAMSCH & A. MARCINIAK. 2002. Archaeologies of Europe: histories and identities. An introduction, in P.F. Biehl, A. Gramsch & A. Marciniak (ed.) Archaeologies of Europe. Histories, methods and theories: 25-31. Münster: Waxmann Verlag. LECH, J. 1997/1998. Between captivity and freedom: Polish archaeology in the 20th century. Archaeologia Polona 35-36: 25-222. MARCINIAK, A. & M. PAWLETA. 2010. Archaeology in crisis: the case of Poland, in N. Schlanger & K. Aitchison (ed.) Archaeology and the global economic crisis. Multiple impacts, possible: 87-96. Tervuren: Culture Lab Editions. Polar Exploration Archaeology (North) Thomas Georgonicas Department of Archaeology, Flinders University, Adelaide, SA, Australia Introduction Archaeological work on polar exploration of the north is focused in the Arctic region and the P P 5996 Arctic Circle. The first exploration of the Arctic is debatable, with some sources indicating the earliest being around 320 BCE. It was not until the mid-nineteenth century that exploration in the region was at its height. The search for a Northwest Passage, which would open a trade route linking the Atlantic and the Pacific, was the goal for most of the explorers at the time. Men such as John Franklin and his crew aboard the HMS Erebus and HMS Terror in 1845 set sail to find the passage, only to never be seen again. The many men who ventured into this region also left behind material culture, remnants of the age of exploration that today can help in the understanding of how other men survived such a harsh environment and how some men succumbed to it. Archaeology in the region to date is helping in solving how Franklin and his men all perished during their expedition, being used in locating the HMS Erebus and HMS Terror, and helping to understand how exploration expeditions operated at the time and how it can help in the preservation of the Arctic’s heritage. Definition The archaeology of polar exploration in the north is focused more in the Arctic region or the Arctic Circle which today consists of the Arctic Ocean and parts of Russia, Norway, Iceland, Greenland, Finland, Sweden, and Alaska. Archaeology of exploration is focused on expeditions in locating the Northwest Passage and the North Pole. Exploration in the Arctic can be dated back to the classical period of Ancient Greece up until present times. Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples The Northwest Passage Expedition of 1845, led by Sir John Franklin with 129 men onboard the ships HMS Erebus and HMS Terror, was one of the worst disasters in exploration history with all Polar Exploration Archaeology (North) men supposably perishing (Bertulli et al. 1997). Search and rescue parties found material, remains, and graves of the crew at King William Island and Beechey Island. Personal accounts with the Inuits in the area confirmed the last survivors died from starvation (Bertulli et al. 1997; Rondeau 2010). Owen Beattie, a professor of anthropology at the University of Alberta, led a team to excavate sites on King William Island and Beechey Island with the aim to find artifacts and skeletal remains of the 129 men from Franklin’s doomed expedition. The “Franklin Expedition Forensic Anthropology Project” ran for 10 years; investigations at King William Island led to the discovery of archaeological artifacts and human remains. The human remains showed signs of scurvy and further examination showed signs of cannibalism (Beattie & Geiger 1987). It was on Beechey Island that Beattie and his team investigated the graves of John Torrington, John Hartnell, and William Braine, all were crew members of the Franklin expedition. Their bodies were remarkably preserved due the conditions of the region and being buried under permafrost for over a hundred years. Autopsies were carried out on Torrington and found that lead poisoning had led to possible mental and physical illness, weakening his body before dying of pneumonia (Beattie & Geiger 1987). The source of the lead poisoning was first linked to poorly made food cans (Farrer 1993), and most recently, a probable cause was linked to the use of a unique water system onboard both ships that was poorly made and resulted in lead poisoning of the crew (Battersby 2008). To date the wreckage of these ships have never been found but are the first and only designated historic site(s) of Canada that have yet to actually be found (Parks Canada 2012). As of 2012, Parks Canada in association with the Underwater Archaeology Service is resuming their search for the HMS Erebus and HMS Terror using remote sensing techniques and site excavations (Parks Canada 2012). Inuit knowledge of the wreck is crucial to the investigations; rescue Polar Exploration Archaeology (North) parties in the search for Franklin and his men communicated with local Inuit people who claimed to have seen some of the men whom all later starved to death. Using oral history that has been passed down from generation to generation could hold the key to discovering the wrecks (Parks Canada 2012). The lost Franklin expedition and its archaeological research background is one example of a current issue of polar exploration archaeology. Expeditions to the North Pole were also common at the time. The Ziegler polar expedition of 1903–1905 was a failed attempt to reach the North Pole. Unlike the fateful Franklin expedition, the expedition team led by Anthony Fiala were rescued with the loss of only one life (Capelotti 2011). In attempting to reach the pole, Fiala left supply caches at their base camp on Rudolf Island to their main base camp from a previous Ziegler expedition from 1901 to 1902. Very little is known about these sites, but their potential to provide new sources of archaeological data to study American polar ambitions at the turn of the twentieth century (Capelotti 2011). Research into the supply trail suggests that the supply route, which stretches 160 km, is a potential archaeological piece of evidence of American polar exploration in the Arctic. The research also revealed the potential danger of the sites being damaged by unsuspecting tourists, altering the character of the sites and making any archaeological studies problematic (Capelotti 2011). Svalbard, a popular tourist destination in the Arctic region, with cultural and natural heritage sites, is an example of polar tourism’s footprint in archaeological and heritage sites. It was up until the 1970s that the collection of artifacts was common in Svalbard. Looting has since become a offense and is policed but, unintentional damage such as trampled surfaces around historic sites with archaeological potential to rock cairns being made by visitors, although it can be argued that it erases some traces of past activities and replacing them with new traces and new narratives of the site (Roura 2011). 5997 P Unlike Antarctica, the Arctic region is not defined by a land mass and is mainly a body of water. Under international law, the North Pole and the Arctic waters cannot be claimed by any nation. With reports suggesting that the Northwest Passage is navigational than it has been since the 1970s, Canada has made its claim to the waters as part of their territory (European Space Agency 2011). What this means for the historical and archaeological sites in this region remains unclear and if any mining to the area could cause damage to the sites. The opening of the Northwest Passage as a possible shipping and trade route also allows places like King William Island and Beechey Island to be easily accessible to people for the first time but also means previously unreachable sites could now be explored by researchers. In 2007 in a meeting of heritage organizations, it was declared that “the Arctic region is important for global processes and is to be considered as precious heritage for humankind. The region includes a number of unique and outstanding natural and cultural heritage places which require protection, improved management and international recognition due to their vulnerability” (Nordic World Heritage Foundation et al. 2007). The archaeology of Arctic exploration and the heritage of sites relating to exploration efforts in the Arctic is becoming increasingly popular among researchers and towards tourists. The opening the Northwest Passage and the thawing of ice will make the area more navigational for both archaeologists and tourists. These sites will have to be continually monitored with information signs explaining their archaeological significance and their heritage value. Cross-References ▶ Authenticity in Archaeological Conservation and Preservation ▶ Canada: World Heritage ▶ Charter for the Protection and Management of the Archaeological Heritage (1990) P P 5998 ▶ Ethics of Collecting Cultural Heritage ▶ European Convention on the Protection of Archaeological Heritage (1992) ▶ Heritage and Archaeology ▶ Heritage Areas ▶ Heritage Tourism and the Marketplace ▶ Historical Archaeology ▶ Modern World: Historical Archaeology ▶ Looting and Vandalism (Cultural Heritage Management) ▶ Polar Exploration Archaeology (South) ▶ Site Visitation and Interpretation: Management ▶ Vandalism and Looting (Ethics) References BATTERSBY, W. 2008. Identification of the probable source of the lead poisoning observed in members of the Franklin expedition. Journal of the Hakluyt Society September 2008. BEATTIE, O & J. GEIGER. 1987. Frozen in time: the fate of the Franklin expedition. Owen Beattie and John Geiger published. London: Bloomsbury. BERTULLI, M., H. FRICKE & A. KEENLEYSIDE. 1997. The final days of the Franklin expedition: new skeletal evidence. Arctic 50(1) 36-46. CAPELLOTTI, P.J. 2011. The ’American supply trail’: archaeological notes on the remains of the Ziegler polar expedition in Zemlya Frantsa-Iosifa, 1903-1905. Polar Record 47: 193-201. EUROPEAN SPACE AGENCY. 2011. Arctic shipping routes open. Available at: http://www.esa.int/esaEO/ SEMT7TRTJRG_index_0.html accessed 31 October 2012. FARRER, K.T.H. 1993. Lead and the last Franklin expedition. Journal of Archaeological Science 20: 399-409. NORDIC WORLD HERITAGE FOUNDATION, UNESCO WORLD HERITAGE CENTRE & PRINCE ALBERT OF MONACO FOUNDATION. 2007. World Heritage and the Arctic: international expert meeting. Available at: http://www.grida. no/files/publications/world-heritage-arctic-report_oct 10.pdf (accessed 19 October 2012). PARKS CANADA. n.d. Available at: http://www.pc.gc.ca (accessed 29 October 2012). RONDEAU, R.M. 2010. The wrecks of Franklin’s ships Erebus and Terror; their likely location and the cause of failure of previous search expeditions. Journal of the Hakluyt Society March 2010. ROURA, M.R. 2011. The footprint of polar tourism: tourist behaviour at cultural heritage sites in Antarctica and Svalbard. Meppel: Ten Brink. Polar Exploration Archaeology (South) Polar Exploration Archaeology (South) Thomas Georgonicas Department of Archaeology, Flinders University, Adelaide, SA, Australia Introduction Archaeology in Antarctica has its routes in the work of whaling sites, some of the first examples of human occupation on the continent. In recent times, there has been a focus on the history of polar exploration in the region, most notably exploration during the heroic age from the end of the nineteenth century up until the early 1920s. This age saw a race to the South Pole, the exploration of resources and exploration in the name of science by men of the likes of Roald Amundsen, Robert Scott, Ernest Shackleton, and Douglas Mawson. Their pursuits in Antarctica left behind cultural material, archaeological, and heritage sites in the forms of graves, huts, monuments, and personal items that today are a link and physical reminder of our past in Antarctica. Definition The archaeology of polar exploration in Antarctica covers the heroic age of exploration from the end of the nineteenth century to the early 1920s, with further exploration expeditions continuing up until the 1950s. The sites themselves consist mainly of the material culture left behind by the expeditions that came to the continent, such as huts, monuments, graves, and material culture such as equipment and supplies. The sites are well known and well documented in Antarctica, with the main body of archaeological work involving conservation work and the protection of these sites. Polar Exploration Archaeology (South) Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples The preservation of huts built and used by explorers and researchers is an issue in the archaeology and heritage in Antarctica. These huts were used as research bases for polar exploration teams from all over the world, mainly from the United Kingdom, Australia, New Zealand, the United States, and Norway. Archaeologically speaking, the surviving huts give Antarctica the attribute of being the only continent where the original human habitation may be seen today (Headland 2010). Of the 22 known sites, including the huts from the heroic age, only seven remain relatively intact, while four have become roofless ruins and ten have become nothing more than fragments (Headland 2010). The huts that remain intact contain many artifacts that relate to the heroic age of polar exploration. These artifacts range from food cans, personal items, lanterns, books, and research equipment. In Mawson’s huts, for example, most of these items are literally frozen in time as heavy snow and ice has formed over some of the artifacts (McGowan 1987). The preservation of the huts has become a key issue in archaeology in Antarctica and Antarctic heritage. The huts were merely meant to last for as long as the expedition was to last. However, the huts that have survived did so due to numerous factors, including their location, climate, and the effects of human interference. Yearly, conservation groups assess the decay of the huts and help repair and conserve them from further damage. Conservation teams like the team of “Project Blizzard” visited the Mawson huts in the summers of 1984–1985 and 1985–1986 where some of the first archaeological work in Antarctica begun as well as pioneering survey methods that were suitable to the environment (McGowan 1987). The huts in recent times have had conservation work done by groups such as the “Mawson’s Huts Foundation” (Mawson’s Huts Foundation 2012). The huts built by Mawson during the Australian Antarctic Expedition from 1911 to 1914 numbered four in total, later three when two were merged into one hut. The huts included a magnetograph 5999 P hut, used to measure variations in the south magnetic pole; an absolute magnetic hut, which was used as a reference point for studies in the magnetograph hut; and the transit hut for astronomical observations (Department of the Environment, Water, Heritage and the Arts 2012). In January 2010, conservationists from the Antarctic Heritage Trust excavated a cache of Scotch whisky belonging to Sir Ernest Shackleton’s failed expedition of 1907–909 (Antarctic Heritage Trust n.d). These bottles, still containing the whiskey, were carefully thawed and examined in the UK by museum staff before three of the bottles were sent to the current owners of the Scotch whiskey for testing to help replicate the recipe that has since been lost (Antarctic Heritage Trust n.d). Although the Scotch was later returned to the Antarctic to be reburied, there have been cases of artifacts being removed from site by private collectors. In January 1999, items taken from Robert Scott’s Cape Evans Hut were returned 40 years after they were taken by a Royal New Zealand Air Force pilot when he was working in the region. The items were to be sold at Christie’s auction house; when the New Zealand government raised the issue to the pilot, they were later given to the Antarctic Heritage Trust and returned to the hut by officials of the British government (Arthy 1999). The unintentional destruction of sites and archaeological deposits is an important issue that needs to be addressed. “The Madrid Protocol” generated an urgency to clean up the Antarctic environment and, in doing so, increased the risk of the destruction of historic sites. Although the protocol in Annex III states that the cleanup should not damage historic sites or monuments, there was a lack of definition as to what constituted as a site, especially in regard to archaeological deposits scattered around historic sites and monuments (Evans 2007). The debate for “rubbish or relic” still continues; guidelines have been set up. Cleanups in Antarctica sites that date up to and/or before 1958 are protected by law. All artifacts located in these sites are to be disturbed as little as possible until properly recorded and evaluated (Evans 2007). P P 6000 Antarctica’s heritage sites and monuments are protected by numerous acts, one such act is the Antarctic treaty of 1994. The Antarctic treaty of 1994 protects the continent from mining minerals; it also lists all historic sites and monuments as protected, any disruption, looting, or intentional damage under Part II section nine of the treaty. The archaeology of polar exploration in Antarctica will continue in the conservation and the investigations of the explorers’ huts. Their conservation is important as they stand as a physical link to our past on the continent. Issues such as what counts as heritage in the region and the definition of archaeological deposits in Antarctica (i.e., relic or rubbish argument) will have to be settled before further damage to sites deteriorates their potential for archaeological research. The material remains in Antarctica narrate the history of past events in the region. When tourists set foot on these sites, they are helping in maintaining the memory of what happened there. However, tourist behavior may erase some of these traces and replace them with new traces. It must be made aware that the sites in Antarctica are not “frozen in time” but are used for a range of purposes and are transformed as a result (Roura 2011). Cross-References ▶ Antarctica: Historical Archaeology ▶ Authenticity in Archaeological Conservation and Preservation ▶ Charter for the Protection and Management of the Archaeological Heritage (1990) ▶ Ethics of Collecting Cultural Heritage ▶ European Convention on the Protection of Archaeological Heritage (1992) ▶ Heritage and Archaeology ▶ Heritage Areas ▶ Heritage Tourism and the Marketplace ▶ Looting and Vandalism (Cultural Heritage Management) ▶ Modern World: Historical Archaeology ▶ Polar Exploration Archaeology (North) ▶ Site Visitation and Interpretation: Management Polis ▶ Southern Ocean and Antarctic Maritime Archaeology ▶ Vandalism and Looting (Ethics) References ANTARCTIC HERITAGE TRUST. n.d Available at: http://www. nzaht.org/AHT/TheGreatWhiskyCrateThaw/ (accessed 29 October 2012). ARTHY, S. 1999. Artifacts taken from historical sites returned. The Royal Society of New Zealand, 26 January. Available at: http://www.royalsociety.org.nz/1999/ 01/26/artifacts-taken-from-historical-sites-returned/ (accessed 25 October 2012). DEPARTMENT OF THE ENVIRONMENT, WATER, HERITAGE AND THE ARTS. 2012. Australian Heritage Database. Available at http://www.environment.gov.au/cgi-bin/ ahdb/search.pl?mode¼place_detail;place_id¼105713 (accessed 25 October 2012). EVANS, S.L. 2007. Heritage at risk: cultural heritage management in the Antarctic. A paper presented ICOMOS 2007 Extreme Heritage Conference. Available at http://www.aicomos.com/wp-content/uploads/ sherrieleeevans.pdf (accessed 20 October 2012). HEADLAND, B. 2010. Historic huts of the Antarctic from the heroic age. Antarctic Heritage Trust. Available at http://www.nzaht.org/content/library/Historic_Huts_ of_the_Antarctic_from_the_Heroic_Age_B_Healand. pdf (accessed 20 October 2012). MAWSON’S HUT FOUNDATION. 2012. Available at http:// www.mawsons-huts.org.au/conservation/ (accessed 29 October 2012). MCGOWAN, A. 1987. Archaeology from the ice: excavation methods in a frozen hut. Australian Historical Archaeology 5: 49-53. ROURA, M.R. 2011. The footprint of polar tourism: tourist behaviour at cultural heritage sites in Antarctica and Svalbard. Meppel: Ten Brink. Polis Benjamin M. Sullivan Department of History, Cornell University, Ithaca, NY, USA Introduction The polis (or “city-state”) was a characteristic polity of archaic (c. 700–c. 490) and classical (c. 490–323 BCE) Greece. The ancient Greek Polis philosopher Aristotle said in the Politics (1253a2-4 ¼ 1.1.9) “man is by nature a creature of the polis, and a man. . . without a polis is either subhuman or divine.” Through a powerful if discontinuous tradition, the Greek polis set up the artistic and intellectual limits within which western civilization has framed its project. Definition Debate surrounds the appropriateness of translating polis (pl. poleis) as “city-state,” but as long as the possibility of confusion with other city-state cultures is recognized, the term is adequate. In the classical period, “polis” had four basic connotations. First, a fortified settlement on a height, a sense that may extend back to the terminology of the Greek-speaking Late Bronze Age predecessors of the historical Greeks, still current into the classical period. Related to this locative sense was a second meaning, a nucleated settlement that controlled its agricultural hinterland. The third sense indicates this surrounding territory, though other words (chora, gē) differentiated this from the town itself. Finally, polis meant a political community. Diachronically, its form contrasts both with the Mycenaean palace economies alluded to above and with the cities of the Hellenistic (323–30 BCE) period. Synchronically, it can be contrasted with the ethnos (pl. ethnē), the other primary category of Greek political organization, which took root mostly in the NW and W of Greek-speaking lands. In ethnos regions, urban settlements did not emerge at all or emerged later in the historical period; when they did, they were often bound politically to larger regional associations. It is now understood that ethnē developed not before the poleis in a remote prehistoric past, but during the archaic period, subject to forces that caused the polis to rise (Hall 2002, 2007). The lie of the land in Greece, small plains between often difficult mountains and hills, and inlets and islands, provided the geophysical mold that produced a patchwork of relatively isolated conurbations and likewise a great variety of social, political, and economic regimes. Yet, 6001 P patterns can be discerned that cut through this diversity, and it is possible to establish at least three key attributes of the polis. First, political autonomy (autonomia) was at least a desideratum, even if a community’s need for external military or economic assistance could make it impossible in practice. Second, poleis were generally small compared with other ancient polities (empires and federal states) and modern nation states. Some poleis had large territories (Athens, Sparta), but the average has been reckoned at 25–100 km2, and while demography is murky throughout our period, only about 10 % had populations greater than 10,000 in the classical period. Third, a sense of civic identity was characteristic. This was bound up with an (often imagined) sense of shared ancestry and with locality, as linguistic habits demonstrate. Polis dwellers referred to themselves as Athenaioi or Korinthioi, deriving their identity from an urban center (Athenai, Korinthos) in contrast with ethnē, the populations of which took their names (Boiotoi, Thessaloi) from the regions in which they lived (Boiotia and Thessalia). Thus, while some poleis could imagine being without land, territory was virtually a rule for polis status. Historical Background The Mycenaean and Hellenistic periods are not entirely arbitrary chronological limits. That poleis as such existed in the “Dark Ages,” the period following the collapse of the Mycenaean world and constituting the Early Iron Age (c. 1150–700 BCE) in Greece, is doubtful, but the roots of the polis system should be traced into this period. The poleis did not disappear when the Macedonians assumed control at the end of the fourth century BCE and Greek cities flourished well into the Roman period. Nevertheless, since autonomy was a characteristic condition for the polis, ending an account with the classical period is justifiable. The sophisticated apparatus of the Mycenaean palace-based economies collapsed in the decades following 1200 BCE. A period of unsettled life, P P 6002 depopulation, and radical loss of technologies, notably the Mycenaean administrative script (never widespread), followed. While recent archaeological work has relit this period, it seems to confirm a picture of isolation, stagnation, and poverty, though there are signs of recovery by the end of the tenth century. Continuities between Mycenaean Greece and the archaic period other than basic religious and agricultural forms are obscure, but it is notable that Mycenaean centers were roughly coterminous with regions where the polis emerged (Snodgrass 1980). It was also an age of poorly understood migrations, within the mainland and from the mainland to areas in the eastern littoral of Anatolia, where the major linguistic groupings (Aiolic, Doric, and Ionic) mirror mainland patterns. Whether the ethnic identities attaching to these linguistic groups, clearly marked by the classical period, were originally present is more doubtful (Hall 2002, 2007). Archaic Period (c. 700–c. 490) The eighth century BCE saw further recovery, not least in the adoption of Phoenician symbols to create regional Greek alphabets (from mid-eighth century), material growth, and apparently a significant increase in population. Attica was seen as representative (Snodgrass 1977), but it is now questionable if the increase was as great as once believed, and likewise a question throughout Greece whether the signs of recovery indicate the presence of poleis. Poleis in the political sense may have developed slowly. Burials may not correlate directly to population, and urbanism is not pronounced until the following century. One way of tracking urbanization is through synoikismos (lit. “living together”), attested by classical writers about their ancient past. A notable example is Thucydides’ notice (2.15.1-2) about the mythic Theseus’ consolidation of Attica. His account of an original complex of small rural communities brought together politically without settlement change is unlikely in the long term: archaeology indicates a more complex process. Another important phenomenon was colonization. The sending out of subsidiary settlements from “mother cities” was accomplished in waves Polis beginning in the late eighth century, first westward to S Italy and Sicily, then in the seventh century toward the Black Sea and N Africa, with streams W again as far as Spain. This movement should be distinguished from modern colonization, inasmuch as it was not conducted by an empire to control a large territory with a lasting military presence. Ventures were instead small, and while ties remained with the metropolis, the apoikia was largely on its own. Hunger for new land should no longer be seen as the dominant cause; rather, trade, adventure, and personal enrichment should all be considered. Nor were the early colonies strictly a polis affair: Achaia, in the archaic period low on poleis, was a major colonizer (Hall 2007), and emphasis on individual founders points to private enterprise and loose organization, a picture confirmed by ceramic and mortuary evidence. This increase in mobility is part of general outward push by the Greeks, manifested in renewed contacts with Egypt and the Near East during an “orientalizing” century (750–650), with profound effects in art and other aspects of material culture. Warfare was part of this expansion. Greek mercenaries, acting independently of their home political communities, fought in the East from the beginning of the eighth century BCE and imported objects and ideas from overseas. At home, apart from certain regions where terrain invited it, poleis were deficient in cavalry. The important soldier was the hoplitēs or hoplite, a heavy-armed infantryman who fought in open ground in a close-order formation known as the phalanx. The hoplite was clad in bronze helmet and plated body armor and carried a thrusting spear as his primary weapon; the most important defensive item was the shield, which dictated phalanx tactics. Physical evidence for the earliest hoplites comes as burials with arms and then from c. 700 as arms dedications at sanctuaries. The political importance of the hoplite is harder to judge. Aristotle believed that the hoplites became politically important with the support of the tyrannoi (see below), and early archaeological analyses used Aristotle’s assessment to postulate a “hoplite revolution” in the early seventh century. This is now doubtful, but the Polis evidence still leaves questions. As for public control, poleis may not have organized armies on a widespread basis until c. 600. Fortification walls should be a secure index for the presence of a polis and theoretically provide a register for settlement size. Yet only 11 poleis were walled by c. 600, and since walls are notoriously hard to date, even this figure demands caution, though the prevalence of mud-brick construction and destruction by later occupation could obscure early walls. Recognizably civic architecture did not appear until the beginning of the sixth century. Nor can rule of law necessarily be inferred for the early archaic period. Recent research has shown that laws inscribed on stone (as opposed to later literary accounts) were mostly procedural and not the sweeping codes we might expect for a movement away from the vendetta toward a centralized legal system (Hölkeskamp 1992). Monumental building was usually religious building, and such building, particularly the Greek temple, is intimately bound with the polis. The Dark Age saw religious activity centered on settlements, but the temple as such is difficult to discern. There are early expressions of the Doric order as early as the mid-seventh century, but fully stone temples do not appear till early in the next century. Some seventh-century projects were large (the Temple of Hera at Argos the largest at 15.1  46.6 m) and must have required considerable cost and a strong authority, but it is not clear that this authority was yet the polis. Tyrannoi (see below) were associated with building projects from the mid-seventh century, but it is not until the sixth century that monumentality becomes an obsession – efforts such as the Temple of Artemis at Ephesos were already testing the limits of Greek building techniques by midcentury, and Sicilian buildings are sometimes staggering. The poleis had begun to make their land- and cityscapes grand with projects that suggest unprecedented central control and overall wealth. Religion also encouraged interaction between poleis. One avenue was the international festival. Tradition held that games began at Olympia in 776 BCE, but whatever the accuracy of this date, 6003 P it was not until the sixth century that the Olympic model could be reproduced elsewhere. Three major “panhellenic” games were inaugurated in the second and third decades of the sixth century, at Nemea, Delphi, and Isthmia. The circuit of games was fixed in a 4-year sequence, and the fact that the festivals were staggered so that they could be held in concert with the Olympics implies sophisticated interstate planning. Another avenue was the oracular sanctuary. Although Delphi acquired games in the early sixth century, here the oracle attracted attention, muttering prophecy not to predict the future but to provide mantic sanction for major decisions, both for poleis and individuals. After modest eighth-century beginnings, the Pythia (oracle of Apollo) soon gained great repute, as the attentions of Midas of Phrygia and Gyges of Lydia illustrate. Political authority is key to tracking the genesis and development of the polis: “politics” means at its root the things of the polis. But when did the robust, variegated political lives of the poleis begin? Anthropological analysis has provided important cues and identified in the “kings” in Homeric epic an example of the “big man,” a leader whose authority is achieved rather than ascribed. If we accept an evolutionary model, the next step should be the chieftain, the exemplar of ascribed authority in the nascent state. The Greek picture is complicated by the fact that later classical theorizing postulated a period of royal rulership in the period before the advent of aristocracy, but this was mostly invented tradition (Drews 1983). The phenomenon of tyrannoi (not to be confused with modern “tyrants”) shows that rule by warlords was still a part of early archaic political life. The first of these dynastic rulers were the Kypselids of Corinth, beginning in the middle of the seventh century. Recent work has shown that tyrannoi were not necessarily “unconstitutional” rulers, rather one of many elite groups vying for political control (Anderson 2005). A controversial inscription from Dreros in Crete involving magistrates called kosmoi has been dated to the mid-seventh century. Yet early to mid-sixth century Argos is chronologically P P 6004 more typical. The relevant Argive inscriptions list officers (damiorgoi), and their language demarcates public and private spheres clearly, indicating central control and civic institutions. A fundamental question is whether the archaic Greek economy was different in kind from modern economies or only in degree. Embedded in social and cultural milieux (von Reden 1997), the polis economy was unlike the autonomous modern market yet possessed familiar mechanisms such as coined money and even, in the classical period, rudimentary banking. Given its agrarian nature, questions about the character of farming are paramount. The idea that most agricultural producers were yeoman farmers representative of a “middling ideology” has been challenged (Hall 2007). It may be more appropriate to think instead of peasants of varying statuses focused on survival and powerful elite landowners. Nor should the importance of trade be neglected. The earliest Greek expeditions abroad (emporia), at Al Mina in the N Levant and Pithekoussai N of the bay of Naples, were similar to colonies but lacked settlements. Archaic Greek trade abroad culminated at Naukratis, a multiethnic Greek polis dedicated to trade established in the Nile Delta c. 600. Around the same time, the first coins appear at Ephesos. Probably originally a Lydian invention, coinage was at any rate perfected by the poleis, and by the end of the archaic period, nearly all the major poleis were producing coinage with distinctive obverse types. Classical Period (c. 490–323) The full flowering of polis culture. It begins with the Persian Wars, military efforts that fostered a sense of shared identity among the poleis, at least as defined against a Persian enemy. The canons of architecture, politics, and thought fundamental to western culture find full expression in Periclean Athens in the second quarter of the fifth century. Yet considered over the long run, this efflorescence was brief, with increased fragmentation in the later fifth century and fourth century giving way to the political overlordship of Macedon. Nonetheless, there is no discounting the period’s achievements. The movement toward Hellenistic cosmopolitanism should not be seen as inevitable or a decline. Polis The necessities of agricultural production shaped settlement, but settlement was also intertwined with politics and culture. The general intensification of agricultural exploitation was uneven, with areas showing different patterns at different times. Methana (NE Peloponnesos) seems to have been settled more thickly in the fifth century after the buildup of an urban center, yet declined in the fourth century, and Boiotian Thespiai followed a similar pattern. On the other hand, the S Argolid retains its archaic settlement pattern until the fifth century, when many more rural sites appear (Mee 2011). Other than the larger poleis like Athens, most apparently concentrated their populations in urban centers – it is estimated that rural sites made up only 5 % of the population of the S Argolid in the classical period. While colonization continued, its aims were now different, with larger poleis infringing on the territory or sovereignty of less powerful ones, a pattern visible into the Macedonian period. War was endemic. The period begins with the surprising success of the Greeks against Persia and ends with the less surprising victory of Philip over a Greek coalition at Chaeronea in 338. In the interim was the Peloponnesian War (431–404), pitting an imperial Athens against a Spartan-led alliance. The traditional pattern, citizen phalanxes fighting small-scale battles in the plains, campaigns limited by agricultural demands, changed significantly. While short of modern total war, the new strategies expanded the arenas traditionally deemed acceptable for fighting. Warfare now clashed with the tempos of the agricultural year and involved more lightarmed troops and mercenaries. Defense of both city and countryside became important, and fortification received greater attention, with more completely stone masonry, as opposed to walls of mud-brick socles with only upper courses in stone. Fourth-century walls used terrain contours to provide complete protection, with a concomitant extension of circuit length: the perimeter of the excellent fortifications at Messene ran 9 km. They could be equipped with sally ports, flanking towers, overlapping gates, and buttressed parapets. The formal ephebeia, citizen Polis youths passing into soldiering adulthood, was first instituted at Athens in the second half of the century, its members given non-hoplite duties such as garrisoning border forts. Political authority was now more centralized, expressed in monumental civic architecture and urban planning. An example of the latter was the template attributed to Hippodamos of Miletus. In Athens’ port, the Piraeus, his ideas are manifested in a systematic accommodation for military installations, public services, and commercial facilities. A selective account of excavations in the Athenian Agora reveals an intense concern with civic building (full coverage: Camp 2001). After the democratic reforms of Kleisthenes (late sixth century) had transformed the political structure of Attica by emphasizing membership in artificial civic kinship groups over traditional regional loyalties, the Agora, transferred from an original location to the E, was made into Athens’ civic center. A bouleutērion or council house accommodated the new democratic council, and boundary stones delineated public from private. On a ridge SW of the Agora, a facility (the Pnyx) to accommodate the citizen assembly was constructed with room for 8,000–12,000. After Persian destruction, the Agora was rebuilt and reorganized. Included now were stoai, multipurpose public porticoes. A round dining hall for the presidents of the council was built, doubling as a receptacle for Athenian weights and measures. During the Peloponnesian War, the Athenians added a new bouleutērion on the W side. The Pnyx was altered at the end of the fifth century: at least according to a later literary source, the aristocratic regime of the Thirty Tyrants reoriented the speaker’s platform, which previously looked seaward, to face inland because they thought farmers were more sympathetic to oligarchy than members of Athens’ powerful fleet. A fourth-century (second quarter) refurbishing of the Pnyx was left incomplete. In the Agora, the temple of Ancestral Apollo took its present form around the same time, perhaps as a part of a larger civic renewal program centered on the figure of Lykourgos. A long base with statues of the Eponymous Heroes of the ten Kleisthenic tribes was set up 6005 P on the W side, a fitting monument to the complexities and energy of the fourth-century Athenian democracy. Greek religion was at its heart polis religion, a community of celebrants performing its two essential components, animal sacrifice and ritual. Monumental religious building ranged from borderland temples to the great urban complexes epitomized in the Athenian Acropolis building program (fifth century, second half). But it also included roadside shrines, peak and cave sanctuaries, and shrines attached to springs. Despite commonalities, the religious calendars for festivals celebrated by individual poleis expressed the variety of polis religion. These festivals provided a chance for the community to bond with commensality and competition. Originally a complex derived from annual agricultural changes, from a structuralist perspective (Osborne 1987), the changing nature of sanctuary dedications over the period indicates that worship became increasingly divorced from the springs of agricultural life – land outside the walls was seen as wild and opposed to the civic life of the urban center. The environment and agricultural life was no less important to patterns of political authority. Agricultural involvement and individual modes of civic life influenced political arrangements (politeiai), with complex results (Osborne 1987). As Thucydides noted, the architectural grandeur of Athens belied military inferiority to Sparta, which remained an unwalled collection of villages into the fourth century. Sparta’s citizens resided here, insulated from work. Brutal control of the serf-like helots’ agricultural production allowed complete dedication to warcraft. Despite living in the town(s), they were nevertheless dependent on subjected labor in the countryside for sustenance. Even among poleis of similar regimes, town-country relations differed. Arkadian Orchomenos, an oligarchic ally of Sparta, had a fortified urban center with some amenities, but residence was largely extramural and included politically dependent surrounding communities, an arrangement suggesting a political sphere divorced from daily life. A variety of countryside-town relations also shaped democratic regimes. Elis had a loose P P 6006 political organization even after consolidation of its major territorial divisions in the early fifth century. Here were robustly independent outlying communities, and exceptionally, these villages could themselves support tiny outlier communities. Athens was early on populated from an urban center. The resultant system of villages (dēmoi or “demes”) was after Kleisthenes’ reforms made part of a complex system of political interdependence, with linking among demes, of demes to artificial tribes and of demes and tribes to citizen assembly. The city’s civic, commercial, and religious facilities attracted resident aliens and its own hinterland population. Thus, Athens was like Elis in terms of the independence of its villages, but unlike in terms of the villages’ relations to the political center, with the Attic demes much more tightly linked. Athens also stood apart with the buildup of its “empire” during the fifth century. As a result of the Persian Wars, Athens gained control the anti-Persian coalition. Allies weakened from tribute-paying and when they revolted were reduced by Athens’ mighty navy. By midcentury, Athens had gained control of the alliance’s treasury, parading its might in long tribute lists inscribed on huge stelai on the Acropolis and in the Panathenaic procession. Athenian hegemony deeply affected coastal and island poleis, often dependent on Athenian assistance but always subject to depredation by the Athenian fleet. The independent smallholder became more prevalent by the fourth century. His private regime was limited in scope (polyculture was predominant) but could be complex in arrangement (Osborne 1987). A farmer might exploit various interests with differing intensity – flocks, arable land with slaves, a house and garden, and a rural tower where servants worked. Agriculture was preeminent, but trade also flourished, particularly as inter-polis bonds grew. Athenian mining operations at Laurion in S Attica exemplify nonagricultural exploitation (Mee 2011). Production here had started in the Bronze Age, with lead ore exploited for its silver. Early efforts were aimed at exposed deposits, but eventually small tunnels ran to subsurface layers. The discovery of Polis a vein early in the fifth century brought technological and commercial development to the fore. Vertical shafts were set in (some to more than 100 m) with adjoining galleries. Ore was processed in nearby workshops, and the washeries suggest considerable outlay. Working conditions were appalling, but the efforts allowed the Athenians to strike silver coins and fund the navy that built their hegemony. The state benefitted mostly, but powerful individuals were not without interests. The fourth century saw another boom in production, testified in Agora inscriptions set up by magistrates to record leases: while the state retained control, individual contractors made large profits. Key Issues Prehistoric Aegean archaeologists were traditionally more receptive to theories and methods from world archaeology, and increased exchange between the prehistoric and classical archaeologist is yielding fruitful results for the study of the polis. Increased emphasis on survey archaeology is one such development, which has been useful for tracking population shifts and land use strategies. Relations between Greece and the Near East, especially in the Early Iron Age and archaic periods, are a fertile field of study, but the classical period is also benefitting from new work on the Achaemenid Empire. Current Debates Arising from some 500 years of antiquarian, historical, philological, numismatic, epigraphic, papyrological, art historical, and archaeological work, debates about aspects of the polis are innumerable. Limiting them to some themes addressed above, the question how dark the “Dark Age” remains open. The question of a historical Homeric society is an unfinished chapter: to what extent do social, military, and economic literary episodes correspond with material culture? Snodgrass’s pioneering Polis synthetic methods on the eighth century (Snodgrass 1977, 1980) have been adopted for the archaic period. Early tyrannoi have been contextualized as a phenomenon not of unconstitutional monarchs but competitive elites (Anderson 2005), but the military side of the early tyrannoi needs more attention. Archaic coinage remains controversial, and the possibility that small denominations were more prevalent than previously thought has been a stimulus (Kim 2001). Near Eastern connections have been investigated for most aspects of the early poleis, and while there has been good work on mercenaries in the Near East (Luraghi 2006), resistance to the idea of eastern influence on the hoplite phalanx is perhaps conditioned by overreliance on the Homeric poems. De Polignac’s landmark study (de Polignac 1995) on border sanctuaries argued that monumental sanctuaries were sited to mark out territory from other poleis, a thesis challenged on various grounds, but probably still valid for the late archaic period. Survey archaeology has proved a great tool for investigating the poleis’ hinterlands and will continue to be invaluable, though particularly in demographic analyses, its limitations should be remembered. These are generally useful and meet the prerogatives of recent historical methods, but should be applied carefully, with the caveat that we will never be as sure about even late classical populations as we are of, e.g., the early modern period. Inscriptional evidence continues to be indispensable, with particular growth for the later poleis of Asia Minor. Dating of inscriptions by letter forms is also controversial, with recent opinion urging caution and favoring a down-dating of fundamental inscriptions from imperial Athens. Ethnicity is an exciting field and has benefited from important recent studies, particularly Hall (2002) and Morgan (2003) (building on Roussel 1976). Economic history is well served in particular by the work of A. Bresson (2007–2008) and looks for ways to add to and advance past the fundamental contribution of M. Finley (1973) and the primitivist/modernist and substantivist/formalist debates. Study of the role of women in the polis is hampered by dismal coverage in contemporary 6007 P literary sources, but great strides have been made of late, with exemplary efforts at synthesis such as Connelly 2009 for women in polis religion. International Perspectives Since 1993 and culminating in the monumental Inventory of Archaic and Classical Poleis (Hansen & Nielsen 2004), the work of the Copenhagen Polis Centre has used both new and traditional approaches and a wide variety of categorizing rubrics to subject the Greek poleis (1,035 communities are included) to massive scrutiny. This is an invaluable resource, with contributions from a host of international scholars. Large international undertakings whether adaptations of venerable projects (e.g., SEG: epigraphy, Brill’s New Pauly: all aspects of antiquity) or newer enterprises (e.g., PHI: epigraphy, The Ancient World Mapping Center: historical geography) and myriad recurring conferences and open-access journals supply grounds for international collaboration on polis research at a level unthinkable even a generation ago. Future Directions Continued cooperation between historians, classical archaeologists, and prehistoric Mediterranean archaeologists is welcome and will provide new syntheses. Willingness from prehistoric specialists to learn from ancient historians and those of more recent periods may advance study of the protohistoric polis. Classical archaeologists and historians will continue to benefit from cross-fertilization with anthropology and world archaeology and should be willing to let go of too rigid philologically based categorization if necessary. Likewise, excavators and surveyors could do well to learn from traditional ancient historical methods such as source criticism. Survey archaeology methodology and concentration on the Greek countryside will yield P P 6008 stimulating results, as will technological applications such as GIS, which holds great potential for studying all manner of polis developments. Cross-References ▶ Agora in the Greek World ▶ Early Iron Age Greece (c. 1150–700 BCE) ▶ Emporion ▶ Religion, Greek, Archaeology of ▶ Urban Planning in the Greek World Polish Pioneers and Traditions MORGAN, C. 2003. Early Greek states beyond the polis. London: Routledge. OSBORNE, R. 1987. Classical landscape with figures. The ancient Greek city and its countryside. London: G. Philip. ROUSSEL, D. 1976. Tribu et cité. E´tudes sur les groupes sociaux dans les cités grecques aux époques archaı̈que et classique. Paris: Les Belles lettres. SNODGRASS, A. 1977. Archaeology and the rise of the Greek state. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. - 1980. Archaic Greece. The age of experiment. Berkeley-Los Angeles: J.M. Dent. VON REDEN, S. 1997. Money, law and exchange. Coinage in the Greek polis. Journal of Hellenic Studies 117: 154-76. Further Reading References ANDERSON, G. 2005. Before turannoi were tyrants. Rethinking a chapter of early Greek history. Classical Antiquity 24: 173-222. BRESSON, A. 2007-2008. L’économie de la Grèce des cités (fin VIe-Ier siècle a.C.). 2 vols. Paris: Colin. CAMP, J. MCK. 2001. The archaeology of Athens. New Haven-London: Yale University Press. CONNELLY, J.B. 2009. Portrait of a priestess. Women and ritual in ancient Greece. Princeton: Princeton University Press. DE POLIGNAC, F. 1995. Cults, territory and the origins of the Greek city-state. Translated by J. Lloyd. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. DREWS, R. 1983. Basileus. The evidence for kingship in geometric Greece. New Haven: Yale University Press. FINLEY, M.I. 1973. The ancient economy. Berkeley: University of California University Press. HALL, J.H. 2002. Hellenicity. Between ethnicity and culture. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. - 2007. A history of the archaic Greek world, c. 1200-479 BCE. Malden (MA): Blackwell. HANSEN, M.H. & T. NIELSEN. 2004. An inventory of archaic and classical poleis. An investigation conducted by the Copenhagen Polis Centre for the Danish National Research Foundation. Oxford: Oxford University Press. HÖLKESKAMP, K.J. 1992. Written law in archaic Greece. Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 38: 87-117. KIM, H. S. 2001. Archaic coinage as evidence for the use of money, in A. Meadows & K. Shipton (ed.) Money and its uses in the ancient Greek world: 7-21. Oxford: Oxford University Press. LURAGHI, N. 2006. Traders, pirates, warriors. The proto-history of Greek mercenary soldiers in the eastern Mediterranean. Phoenix 40: 21-47. MEE, C. 2011. Greek archaeology. A thematic approach. Malden (MA): Wiley-Blackwell. GOETTE, H. R. 2001. Athens, Attica, and the Megarid: an archaeological guide. London: Routledge. Polish Pioneers and Traditions Przemysław Urbańczyk Institute of Archaeology and Ethnology, Polish Academy of Sciences, Warsaw, Poland Brief Definition of the Topic In Poland, as elsewhere, excavations in the nineteenth century were conducted unsystematically and hastily, with the aim of acquiring interesting finds. Exceptional was Kalikst Jagmin’s dig of 1873 at Łe˛gonice (central Poland) where a large barrow was sectioned along a W-E axis in order “. . .to uncover the very base of the mound and to expose a section which, showing the layout and quality of layers, would produce a visible proof of the manner in which this grave-mound was raised” (Jagmin 1876: 83). This isolated experiment produced one of the world’s earliest examples of the relatively detailed observation and documentation of stratigraphy (Fig. 1). The first excavation manual published in Poland stressed that when digging multilayered mounds, “it is necessary to recognize. . . the height of every layer above ground level” (Majewski 1902: 195). Innovatory was Leon Kozłowski’s method of excavating cemetery in Iwanowice Polish Pioneers and Traditions 6009 P Polish Pioneers and Traditions, Fig. 1 A profile cut by Kalikst Jagmin in 1873 across a barrow in Łe˛gonice Polish Pioneers and Traditions, Fig. 2 Graphic presentation of the fallacy of the exploration of complex stratigraphy by arbitrary levels (Żurowski 1949, Fig. 8) by sequentially opening squares of 10  10 m (Kozłowski 1917: 2). Careful stratigraphic analysis is testified by multi-strata profiles of a cave site published by Stefan Krukowski (1921: 3-5 and Figs. 3, 4). In 1928 and 1930, Józef Kostrzewski explored a stronghold in Jedwabne with two small trenches. There he discerned nine layers which served to build the first relative chronology of medieval pottery (Kostrzewski 1931: 6, Fig. 2a, b). At Biskupin ca 3,000 m2 were uncovered during the 1934 and 1935 seasons, and the five identified culture layers were defined using small tools only (Kostrzewski 1936: 11). Soil was sieved and overhead photography (from planes and balloons) was employed. Experimentally, finds from a limited surface were all recorded three dimensionally (Kostrzewski 1950: 5, 12). In 1936-1937, another 3,400 m2 were excavated using 10 cm thick arbitrary layers (spits) which were recorded on plans at 1:10. on which all important finds were marked. A geologist analyzed 80 m of profiles (Kostrzewski 1938: 4. 9, 69, 132-9, Tables LXIX and LXX). This promising development was halted in 1939. The handful of archaeologists who survived the War were confronted with the practical and theoretical problems posed by vast areas that the war destruction suddenly “opened” for archaeological investigation. The theoretical dilemma and the rapid development of unusually sophisticated responses are recorded in the dialogue between the two innovative archaeologists Tadeusz R. Żurowski and Włodzimierz Hołubowicz. In 1947, Hołubowicz stated the principle that “during excavation there are no less or more valuable layers, they are all equally important” (Hołubowicz 1947: 37). Digging and P P 6010 recording of a multilayer site must be based on a system of contiguous squares, so that “. . .it should be possible to reconstruct the system of layers with every item precisely localized. . .” (Hołubowicz 1947: 34). Żurowski had already written down many of his ideas in 1939, but they were not to appear in print until after the war. He maintained that a “culture layer is also a monument of the past (zabytek), even when it does not contain any finds of the material culture” (Żurowski 1949). He emphasized that “naturally formed layers may be interlaced with culture layers” (Żurowski 1947: 138) and thus urged the sampling of “every cultural and geological layer” (Żurowski 1947: 140) in order “to execute detailed geological, palaeobotanical, palaeontological, anthropological and other analyses” (Żurowski 1947: 137). He also believed that “topography is best reflected by contour-lines,” the principle of his “topographico-stratigraphic” method of excavating and recording that was to ensure “reconstruction of the configuration of the surface in the moment of starting the excavation and of the every lower layer in sequence – period after period backwards” (Żurowski 1947: 137). “This means that we will always be able to show three-dimensionally or by contour-lines a given surface in its shape before so and so many thousand years” and “from the layout of contour-lines we can cut sections in any directions and we can draw profiles” (Żurowski 1947: 138). If we note also that all finds must be recorded “according to precise instrumental measurements” (Żurowski 1947: 137) and that “the interrelation of characteristic points at a drawing must be precise enough to make possible, even after several years, to impose the same measurement system and to achieve the same results in an unquestionable way” (Żurowski 1947: 137), we can see that there was a powerful guide to excavation method. Hołubowicz in turn published an attack on the technique of “arbitrary levels” (spits) for exploring complex stratigraphic structures, which may be “. . .studied correctly only by defining cultural layers” (Hołubowicz 1948: 38, 40). Żurowski criticized Hołubowicz’s zealotry but he made it Polish Pioneers and Traditions clear that “exploration by arbitrary layers without discerning culture layers may lead to serious mistakes. . . because finds from very recent and very old culture layers may fall in the same arbitrary layer” (Żurowski 1949: 427). He illustrated this with clear drawings (Fig. 2) showing the fallacy of what he called “the most primitive method” (Żurowski 1949: 462). He argued that “all finds must be localised in relation to a culture layer and not an arbitrary layer” (Żurowski 1949: 458). Such an attitude imposed treatment of every part of a site with equal piety, reinforced by the fact that the site “usually undergoes total destruction” (Zurowski 1949: 413). Unfortunately, this promising “brain storm” died out quickly because almost all Polish archaeological “manpower” became engaged in the extensive “millennial” program which preceded celebrations of the millennial anniversary of the origins of Polish state in 1966. Numerous medieval towns and strongholds were excavated (c. 25 large sites a year), and the results were studied by multidisciplinary teams of archaeologists, architects, ethnographers and historians, which was called the “history of material culture.” There was simply no time for discussions that did not offer immediate solutions to daily problems. Polish archaeologists became again very “practical,” which meant that effectiveness counted higher than methodological rigor. Methods of excavation and recording that seemed too sophisticated were openly questioned (e.g., Dembińska 1954: 97). Very few archaeologists tried to follow the standards that had been set during the postwar decade, and Poland’s important contribution to excavation methodology remains largely obscure despite attempts at its promotion (e.g., Urbańczyk 1999, 2004). The lack of theoretical discussion and of progressive methodology promotion resulted in stagnation. Digging in arbitrary levels found common acceptance (e.g., Mazurowski 1996: 4) and dominates until today. Quick economic development after the political transformation of 1989 resulted in extensive investments in production and transport infrastructure, which made necessary to excavate Polish Pioneers and Traditions 6011 P Polish Pioneers and Traditions, Fig. 3 Orthophoto map of a sunken house excavated by P. Urbańczyk in NorthEast Iceland in 2002–2005 huge areas. Again town centers and hectares of fields have been being excavated to free space for factories, habitation quarters, highways, and pipelines. Only some outsiders lucky to have a chance to dig slowly (usually abroad) have experimented, for example, with new methods of electronic recording (e.g., Urbańczyk 2002, 2011) (Fig. 3). Thus, 65 years later, we may recall Żurowski’s bitter observation that “some prehistorians consider excavation technique too easy to learn it. Such attitudes, based on ignorance, inhibit progress. . .” (Żurowski 1947: 136). Cross-References ▶ Archaeological Record ▶ British Pioneers and Fieldwork Traditions ▶ Excavation Methods in Archaeology ▶ Field Method in Archaeology: Overview ▶ France: Field Method Origins ▶ Publication in Field Archaeology ▶ Recording in Archaeology ▶ Scandinavia: Field Methods ▶ Stratigraphy in Archaeology: A Brief History References DEMBIŃSKA, M. 1954. Dyskusja w sprawie metody wykopaliskowej. Wiadomości Archeologiczne 20(1): 97-8. HOLUBOWICZ, W. 1947. O metodzie badania grodów. Z Otchłani Wieków 16(3-4): 33-7. - 1948. Studia nad metodami badań warstw kulturowych w prehistorii polskiej [Studies on methods of culture layers studying in Polish prehistory]. Toruń. JAGMIN, K. 1876. Opis mogiły (kurhanu) pod Łe˛gonicami i wydobytych z niej przedmiotów. Wiadomości Archeologiczne 3: 83-94. KOSTRZEWSKI, J. 1931. Grodzisko w Jedwabnie w pow. toruńskim. Przyczynek do relatywnej chronologii ceramiki pomorskiej okresu wczesnohistorycznego, Slavia Occidentalis 10: 244-73. - (ed.) 1936. Osada bagienna w Biskupinie w pow. Z˙nińskim. Poznań. - 1938. Gród prasłowiański w Biskupinie w pow. Z˙nińskim. Poznań. - 1950. III sprawozdanie z prac wykopaliskowych w grodzie kultury łużyckiej w Biskupinie w pow. Z˙nińskim za lata 1938-1939 i 1946-1948. Poznań. KOZLOWSKI, L. 1917. Badania archeologiczne na górze Klin w Iwanowicach, powiatu Miechowskiego. Warszawa. KRUKOWSKI, S. 1921. Badania jaskiń pasma KrakowskoWieluńskiego w 1914 r. Archiwum Nauk Antropologicznych 1(1). MAJEWSKI, E. 1902. Jak rozkopywać kurhany? Światowit 4: 193-200. P P 6012 MAZUROWSKI, R. 1996. Założenia i wskazówki metodyczne dla archeologicznych badań ratowniczych wzdłuż Trasy gazocia˛gu tranzytowego. Poznań: EuRoPol GAZ s.a. URBAŃCZYK, P. 1999. Teoria i praktyka badań wykopaliskowych Tadeusza R. Żurowskiego [Tadeusz R. Żurowski’s theory and practice of excavations], in Z. Kobyliński & J. Wysocki (ed.) Tadeusz R. Z˙urowski i konserwatorstwo archeologiczne w Polsce XX wieku. Warszawa: “SNAP”. - 2002. Sveigakot 2001. Area T – pit house, in, O. Vesteinsson (ed.) Archaeological investigations at Sveigakot 2001: 29-49. Reykjavik: The Icelandic Institute of Archaeology. - 2004. Excavation methodology in post-war Poland: the forgotten revolution, in G. Carver (ed.) Digging in the dirt: 111-4. Oxford: Tempus. - 2011. Skonsvika and experiments with digitalised recording system, in B. Olsen, C. Amundsen & P. Urbańczyk (ed.) Hybrid spaces. Medieval Finnmark and the archaeology of multi-room houses: 169-77 Tromsø: IFSK. ŻUROWSKI, T. 1947. Pomiar w technice wykopaliskowej [Surveying in excavation technique], Z otchłani wieków 16 (5-6): 136-41. - 1949. Uwagi na marginesie ‘Studiów nad metodami badań warstw kulturowych w prehistorii polskiej’ Włodzimierza Hołubowicza [Remarks on studies on methods of culture layers studying in Polish prehistory” by Włodzimierz Hołubowicz]. Światowit 20: 411-80. Politis, Gustavo G. Andrés G. Laguens Museo de Antropologı́a, Facultad de Filosofı́a y Humanidades, Universidad Nacional de Córdoba, Córdoba, Argentina Basic Biographical Information Gustavo Gabriel Politis (Fig. 1) is an Argentine archaeologist. He was born in 1955 at Buenos Aires, but he grew up in Necochea, a city 500km south of Buenos Aires in the Argentine plains or Pampas. In 1978, he graduated as an anthropologist from the Facultad de Ciencias Naturales de la Universidad Nacional de La Plata, where he also made his postgraduate studies. He received a Ph.D. in 1984 on the basis of his dissertation about the archaeology of the “interserrana” area (the plains between the Tandilia and Ventania hill Politis, Gustavo G. Politis, Gustavo G., Fig. 1 Gustavo Politis ranges) of Buenos Aires province. After his graduation, as a postdoctoral fellow (1984–1985), he stayed at the Department of Anthropology of the University of Kentucky, and was a Visiting Scientist at the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of Natural History, and Visiting Scholar at the Center for the Study of Early Man at the University of Orono, Maine. Before that, he held a fellowship of the National Research Council of Argentina (1979–1984) while he began his career in the teaching of archaeology. He was Assistant Professor (1980–1984) at the Facultad de Ciencias Naturales of the Universidad Nacional de La Plata, Argentina, where he taught American Archaeology and was Associate Professor (1987–1989) at the Universidad Nacional del Centro de la Provincia de Buenos Aires. Since 1993, he has held a tenured post at the same institution teaching American hunter-gatherers, while at the Universidad Nacional de La Plata, he continued as Professor teaching Method and Technics in Archaeology. He taught at different universities abroad as Visiting Professor as well, such as the Universidad Nacional de Colombia (1991, 1992), University of Cambridge (1991), University of Southampton (1992–1993), and Stanford University (2001). Politis, Gustavo G. In 1987, Gustavo Politis became researcher at the National Research Council of Argentina, where he developed his professional career, progressing up the hierarchies to his current position (2010) as Senior Research Fellow, the highest one. His main research activities were carried at the Museo de La Plata of the Universidad Nacional de La Plata and at the Núcleo de Investigación INCUAPA (Investigaciones Arqueológicas y Paleontológicas del Cuaternario Pampeano) of the Universidad del Centro de la Provincia de Buenos Aires (UNICEN), where he still develops his research and is Director. His work at the University also entailed active participation as academic councilor and later as Dean (1989–1992) of the Facultad de Ciencias Sociales (UNICEN), where he also promoted the foundation of the INCUAPA (1995). There he created the Doctorate in Archaeology (2005), where he currently is the Director. As professional archaeologist, he was President of the Sociedad Argentina de Antropologı́a (2006–2009) and Editor of Relaciones de la Sociedad Argentina de Antropologı́a, the most important academic journal in anthropology at Argentina. Major Accomplishments Through his research, Dr. Politis promoted a renewed emphasis on study of the archaeology of the Pampas, an area traditionally undervalued. From the beginning of his work in the area at the end of the 1970s, he demonstrated the importance of this region in the early peopling of the continent, and renewed discussions on human and megafauna coexistence (Politis 1984). Thanks to his encouragement, new projects and lines of research were opened in the region, and at the present time, many research teams are making important contributions, while recognizing its historical importance. Particularly interested in hunter-gatherers, Politis spent long seasons between 1990 and 1996 at the Colombian Amazonas forest conducting ethnoarchaeological research among the Nukak, a recently contacted hunter-gatherer group. 6013 P There he tested many assumptions about forest hunter-gatherers and developed models in relation to settlement and mobility, as well as advanced new insights in relation to subsistence and material culture (Politis 1996). This experience was continued in his ethnoarchaeological research among the Hotı̈ at Venezuelan Amazonia in 2002–2003, and among the Awá, at Brazil, which led him between 2005 and 2009 to make new ethnoarchaeological studies in an international project with Spanish and Brazilian colleagues. Theory and the history of archaeology have been other major concerns and contributions by Dr. Politis. Within a perspective of the history of archaeology both in relation to theory and to politics, he made many important contributions that placed South American archaeology in the international arena. He was particularly interested in the sociopolitical contexts of knowledge production (e.g., Politis 1995, 2001; Politis & Curtoni 2011) and the positioning of South American archaeology in relation to global counterparts, colonialism, and world theoretical context (e.g., Politis & Alberti 1999; Politis 2003). His experience as an ethnoarchaeologist has informed theoretical considerations of this topic, especially in terms of its ethical implications (Politis 2001). Gustavo Politis’ research with Indigenous people is characterized by his commitment to the people with whom he works and a reflexive stand on the social role of archaeologists. He had an active and conspicuous participation in the first restitution of an Indigenous ancestor at Argentina ordered by law in 1994. This was particularly significant and symbolic as it was about a highly respected chief, Inakayal, who had resisted the advance of the State in nineteenth century over their territories at Patagonia and been kept at the National Museum as a specimen. This first repatriation had deep impact on native peoples, vindicating their struggles, as well as on scientists and ordinary people. Dr. Politis has received numerous awards for his contributions to the profession including one of the most important recognitions in science at Argentina, the Premio Nacional de Ciencia “Bernardo Houssay” of Argentina, with which P P 6014 he honored twice both as junior (1987) and senior (2003) researcher. In 2003, he was distinguished by a John Simon Guggenheim Fellowship. He was invited as distinguished Lecturer, banquet speaker and to plenary lectures at international congresses in many opportunities. His book Ethnoarchaelogy of an Amazonian People (Politis 2007) was chosen by Choice, a premier source for reviews of academic books in the USA, as one of the outstanding academic titles of 2008. Cross-References ▶ Ethnoarchaeology ▶ Latin American Social Archaeology ▶ South American Archaeology: Postcolonial Perspectives References POLITIS, G. 1984. Investigaciones arqueológicas en el Area Interserrana Bonaerense. Etnia 32: 3-52. - 1995. The socio politics of the development of the archaeology in Hispanic South America, in P. Ucko (ed.) Theory in archaeology. A world perspective: 197235. London: Routledge. - 1996. Move to produce. Nukak mobility and settlement patterns in Amazonia. World Archaeology 27: 492-510. - 2001. On archaeological praxis, gender bias, and indigenous peoples in South America. Journal of Social Archaeology 1: 90-107. - 2003. The theoretical landscape and the methodological developments of archaeology in Latin America. American Antiquity 68: 247-272. - 2007. Nukak. Ethnoarchaeology of an Amazonian people. Walnut Creek: Left Coast Press. POLITIS, G. & B. ALBERTI. 1999. Archaeology in Latin America. London: Routledge. POLITIS, G. & R. CURTONI. 2011. Archaeology and politics in Argentina. The last fifty years, in L.R. Lozny (ed.) Comparative archaeologies. A sociological view of the science of the past: 495-526. New York: Springer. Further Reading ENDERE, M.L. 2011. Cacique Inakayal. La primera restitución de restos humanos ordenada por ley. Corpus. Archivos virtuales de la alteridad americana 1. Available at: http://ppct.caicyt.gov.ar/index.php/corpus/article/view/320/102 (accessed 22 April 2013). Pompeii Pompeii Dianne Riley Department of Archaeology, Flinders University, Adelaide, SA, Australia Introduction The ruins of the Roman town of Pompeii are located within the city of Pompeii, in southern Italy, in the area known as Campania (Palmer et al. 2005: 88). Roman Pompeii was totally destroyed, together with the nearby town of Herculaneum, when the volcano known as Mount Vesuvius erupted in 79 CE. Pompeii had been at the epicenter of an earlier natural disaster (a severe earthquake), in February 62 CE (Ward-Perkins & Claridge 1980: 13), which could be interpreted as a precursor to the catastrophic volcanic eruption in August 79 CE. Roman Pompeii, with an estimated population of between twenty to twenty-five thousand people, was situated eight kilometers southeast of the apex of Mount Vesuvius, which was considered to be a non-active volcano prior to the 79 CE natural disaster, even though the last recorded volcanic action had been in 217 BCE. Initially, the settlement of Pompeii covered ten hectares and had a population of between two thousand and two thousand five hundred people. In the fifth century BC Pompeii was re-developed, with an emphasis on the Greek style of town planning; the final acreage was approximately sixty-five hectares. This new Pompeii included a defensive wall outside which the suburbs of Pompeii continued to grow and expand (Ward-Perkins & Claridge 1980: 34). Key Issues and Current Debates Excavations of Pompeii started in the middle of the eighteenth century (UNESCO 2013). During the period 130–90 BCE, some of the grandest houses (discovered to date) such as the Basilica and the houses of Pansa and the Faun were erected. Archaeological evidence has shown that these larger luxurious structures were Pompeii sometimes built over the foundations or ruins of previous dwellings (Scullard 1972: 180). This evidence of building activity supports the theory that Pompeii was a prosperous metropolis that had not only grand residences, but an amphitheatre, an open area dedicated to exercise (such as running and wrestling) known as a palaestra, taverns, shops, brothels, civic buildings, and a doctor’s residence. Excavations have also revealed that Pompeii had five large bath houses for use by its townspeople (Burbank & Cooper 2010: 36), again describing a people who were social and possibly sometimes promiscuous, as illustrated by the murals in Pompeii’s Suburban Baths (Santon 2007: 162). The architecture uncovered has revealed that Pompeii was also home to small manufacturers, who sometimes had retail areas attached to the front of their family homes, that opened onto the street, in order to display the saleable goods or services, such as shoes and leather work (Scullard 1972: 335). Pompeii was a significant cultural and trading center. Together with its surrounding agricultural areas, it was an example of Italy’s increasing economic prosperity. Work on the rural estates near Pompeii was carried out by slaves, rather than by the wealthy owners. The owners appeared to divide their time between country estates and town residences that were usually situated in the city center of Pompeii (Scullard 1972: 333–334). Pompeii was also used by the emperor Nero as a solution to the problem of overpopulation in Rome, when he relocated military veterans to Pompeii after the earthquake of 62 CE (Scullard 1972: 317). This re-settlement would also have provided a labor source to carry out repairs and reconstruction after the 62 CE earthquake. Archaeological evidence found to date confirms that Pompeii was a trade center at the time of the eruption and had been for many years, evidenced by the ruins of businesses, such as bakeries (with their own mill stone), oil storage centers (with the remains of large amphoras grouped together in one place) and market places, where the exchange of goods would have occurred. A lot of the “fine metal furniture and object d’arts” including silver ware that were 6015 P recovered through the excavations at Pompeii were made in the factories of Capua (Scullard 1972: 337). This demonstrates that luxury goods were imported into Pompeii, again indicating that it was a successful trading center. The excavations undertaken at Pompeii confirm that it was also a cultural center; the architecture and art unearthed provides an insight into the opulence surrounding some of its inhabitants’ lifestyles. Art such as murals, frescoes, and portraiture suggest a community with an ongoing appreciation of art and literature. The murals revealed through archaeological recovery at Pompeii can be classified into four styles, which are the Incrustation style, the Architectural style, the Ornate style, and the Intricate style, with the last style, the Intricate period, dating from 50 CE until the natural disaster of 79 CE. Evidence of another style of painting, portraiture, was also found during the excavations at Pompeii (Scullard 1972: 359). Archaeology has also revealed the existence of cult worship through surviving art work, with paintings such as frescoes that seem to indicate initiation ceremonies connected with Dionysus found in the Villa of the Mysteries at Pompeii (Scullard 1972: 373). Archaeologists have found that many individual houses had their own shrines or lararia, which indicates that a system of belief was part of everyday life in Pompeii (Ward-Perkins & Claridge 1980: 47). Another form of art, not found inside the ruins of luxurious villas but rather on the walls of street buildings, was graffiti. This has provided particular insights into the thoughts of the people of Pompeii in 79 CE. It is an example of uncensored historical opinion and often appears to be related to political events. The archaeological excavations at Pompeii have revealed that the effects of the major earthquake in 62 CE were still being addressed at the time of the 79 CE eruption; that is, restorations were still being undertaken at the time of the pyroclastic disaster that destroyed the town. The length of time between the disaster and repairs undertaken could be an indicator of an economic depression or perhaps a shortage of skilled labor or scarcity of building materials. There is, however, archaeological evidence that indicates that P P 6016 there had been some rebuilding undertaken in the period between the two disasters. The catastrophic event at Pompeii had an unusual lasting outcome. The type of disaster that occurred captured a moment in time, or as Keith Muckelroy states, it represents a “time capsule” (1978: 56) in the lives of the people of Pompeii, albeit one that was terrifying and fatal. Archaeologists today have been able to obtain accurate insights into life in Roman Pompeii as it was on August 24th and 25th in 79 CE. Scientists are able to study the twisted forms that were once human beings through the stabilizing methods, first invented and applied by Guiseppe Fiorelli in 1860, which involved filling the fragile body cavities with plaster of Paris in order to preserve their shapes (Renfrew & Bahn 2004: 24; Palmer et al. 2005: 90). More recently, a technique that uses liquid transparent glass fiber has replaced the Fiorelli plaster of Paris method. The latter method enables bones and other artifacts to become visible (Renfrew & Bahn 2004: 25). These scientific studies have revealed many things including the presence of diseases (such as malaria, tuberculosis, arthritis, and tooth decay), ages, occupations, and diets, but unfortunately, the high temperatures experienced during the disaster destroyed any DNA evidence. Most poignantly, these studies have been able to detail how some of the victims actually died, for example from suffocation or physical trauma. Diets were identified from the actual remains of meals excavated from the tables of the people of Pompeii. The contents of excavated shops similarly revealed what the people of Pompeii were eating and drinking and purchasing in the execution of their everyday lives (Renfrew & Bahn 2004: 310). Pompeii be a threat to the site since they can destroy evidence and expose new areas of the site to natural deterioration and create additional maintenance needs (UNESCO 2012). The central issue now is whether to focus on preserving what has been discovered, or excavate further in order to obtain new information. This debate was brought into the public sphere with the collapse of the House of the Gladiators in 2010 and the House of Loreius Tiburtinus in 2011. This prompted a formal agreement between the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation to better conserve the site (UNESCO 2013). The direction for conservation at Pompeii is now likely to focus more clearly on comprehensive maintenance, including improved water collection and disposal, as damage can be caused by bad drainage and the slow deterioration of mortar. Pompeii’s discovery and excavation has enabled unique insights into a way of life, centuries ago and frozen in time, because of the effects of a devastating natural disaster. Even given the considerable amount of archaeological investigation already undertaken, there is still great potential for new knowledge to emerge, especially given the continued advances in archaeological techniques. Cross-References ▶ Disaster Response Planning: Earthquakes ▶ Fiorelli, Giuseppe ▶ UNESCO World Heritage Convention (1972) ▶ Volcanic Activity References Future Directions Today, Pompeii bears the scars of archaeology (both legal and illegal) and tourism. Ironically, both help support the economy of the surrounding town of twenty-first century Pompeii. However, there is debate concerning whether Pompeii should be closed to tourists and/or archaeologists, in order to better protect the site. Excavations can BURBANK, J. & F. COOPER. 2010. Empires in world history: power and the politics of difference. Princeton (NJ): Princeton University Press. MUCKELROY, K. 1978. Maritime archaeology. New studies in archaeology. London: Cambridge University Press. PALMER, D., P. BAHN & J. TYLDESLEY. 2005. Unearthing the past: the great discoveries of archaeology from around the world. London: Mitchell Beazley. RENFREW, C. & P. BAHN. 2004. Archaeology: theories, methods and practice, 4th edn. London: Thames and Hudson, Ltd. Popular Culture and Archaeology SANTON, K. 2007. Archaeology: unearthing the mysteries of the past. Bath: Parragon Publishing. SCULLARD, H.H. 1972. From the Gracchi to Nero: a history of Rome from 133 BC to AD 68. London: Methuen & Co. Ltd. UNESCO. 2012. Towards a governance system for coordinating the updating and the implementation of the management plan of the archaeological areas of Pompeii, Herculaneum and Torre Annunziata. Available at: http://whc.unesco.org/en/news/966 (accessed 1 June 2013). - 2013. Archaeological areas of Pompeii, Herculaneum and Torre Annunziata. Available at: http://whc. unesco.org/en/list/829 (accessed 1 June 2013). WARD-PERKINS, J. & A. CLARIDGE. 1980. Pompeii AD 79. Sydney: Australian Gallery Directors Council Ltd. Popular Culture and Archaeology Melanie Coughlin Depcinski Department of Anthropology, University of South Florida, Tampa, FL, USA Introduction Popular media has influenced the public view of archaeology for over a century. Before the genesis of digitally based mass media, popular culture as it related to archaeology was based on the accounts of travelers and other print-based media. In the modern age, motion pictures, television shows, print media, and video games have all served to bring archaeology to the masses. Unwittingly, these forms of media often misrepresent the methodological and theoretical underpinnings of the field in favor of adventure and glamour. King Solomon’s Mines (1950 and 2004), Indiana Jones (1981–2008), Laura Croft: Tomb Raider (2001), and the Stargate SG-1 (1997–2007) series are just a few examples of how simplistic views of archaeology have been popularized in the mass media. These portrayals of archaeologists in action promulgate a romanticized and adventure-based view of the discipline, a view that frequently overshadows archaeology’s scientific goals and practices. In addition to influencing how archaeology is viewed as a discipline, popular culture has an effect on how the public regards archaeological resources and associated geographic areas. 6017 P Definition Archaeology as displayed in movies, television, fictional novels, and other popular media focuses on adventure and ignores the technical and practical elements of archaeological fieldwork while creating a new identity for archaeologists as adventurers and cultural connoisseurs. Additionally, these media also neglect to include the research and preparation necessary to undertake before entering the field. The analysis of data and the ethical implications of research are wholly ignored, leaving these elements of archaeology as a science a mystery to the public who consumes this image of the discipline. Though archaeologists in the field are prone to consider actual archaeological research as absent from the minds of those who produce popular forms of media, those who develop these forms of entertainment – in all actuality – rely on archaeological work for the production of stories for the interested public. Without the archaeologist, popular representations of past cultures – and the way in which they are accessed – would be produced based on pure fantasy and speculation, rather than simply lacking in detail and scientific veracity. Moreover, the many attitudes and ideals that are fueled by popular media have a direct effect on how the cultural patrimony of the world is guarded and understood. However, it is necessary to remember that archaeologists are the primary source of public discourse with the past, and ultimately the interest in these areas on the part of archaeologists is the catalyst for the emphasis on various time and regions – such as ancient Egypt, the classical Mediterranean, or the biblical Near East – in popular media (Kroshus Medina 2003). Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples Beyond representations of archaeology and uncovering the past in cinematic formats, there is now an excess of television shows that focus on popular notions of uncovering the past. In some cases, like that of the show American Digger on P P 6018 Spike TV, what is shown can hardly be called archaeology. An unknowing public may take it as such an endeavor and absorb messages that are much more harmful to the archaeological record and the image of the discipline than seeing an archaeologically based adventure film. Despite this fact, archaeology is not without hope in the public eye. As long as there have been television programs and movies for the archaeologist at heart, there have also been publications such as National Geographic or Archaeology magazine to temper fiction with fact. Thus, while many in the profession may ultimately fess up to being drawn to archaeology by films such as The Mummy (1932 and 1999), pop culture does more for the field than lure unsuspecting adventurers into the clutches of scientific rigor. The placement of archaeology in such a romantic and unscientific light can elicit a trend in response that tends towards a condemnation of these representations as false or misleading (McGeough 2006). However, researchers such as Vergil E. Noble (2007) have pointed out that the way the story is told does not always change the message. Although Hollywood representations of past stories may not be entirely accurate or show the archaeologists as a treasure-hunting adventurer, the reverence and awe of the past that drives so many professionals to enter the field is undoubtedly present. While the public may come away confused as to certain technical elements of the discipline, the basis of their desire to engage with archaeology in cinematic form is not to have a formal lesson on excavation. Rather, they are there to be entertained, and what is deemed entertaining is often a reflection of public interest rather than a choice on the part of the producer. A public interest in archaeology and the past is absolutely vital to the promulgation of the discipline beyond pure academic interest (Sabloff 1999). If people were to stop seeing the past as interesting and exciting, the drive to preserve, protect, and engage with it would ultimately diminish and with it the professional ability to act as stewards of the past (SAA Principles of Archaeological Ethics). Movies, television, video games, and even popular books by authors such as Dan Brown or Popular Culture and Archaeology Steve Berry – authors of The Da Vinci Code and The Alexandria Link, respectively – all serve to peak public interest in the past and hopefully drive people to learn more about the archaeology of their own areas or the discipline as a whole. Also at issue here is the perception that archaeology can only happen when artifacts are excavated and removed from their context into a laboratory or museum setting. Professional issues such as curation, the acquisition of permits, and the rights of cultural groups to the protection of their ancestral heritage are not addressed in the popular media. This results in an enthusiastic public that does not fully grasp the destructive nature of archaeology or the importance of the life of the artifacts themselves. Rather than condemning filmmakers for the popularized view of archaeology they have put forth, the discipline should thank them for acting as an inspiration to so many in the field and in the public. Both the Society for American Archaeology (SAA) and the Archaeological Institute of America (AIA) have sought to do this within their respective organizations. In 1996, the SAA recognized the producers of Star Trek: Voyager and Star Trek: Next Generation for their portrayal of archaeology, and in 2008 the Indiana Jones star Harrison Ford was elected to the board of directors for the AIA and awarded for his contributions to the public presence of archaeology (Aldenderfer 1996; AIA News 2008). Furthermore, it should be taken on as professional responsibility to find ways to educate the public beyond television and movies so that they may come to know the science of archaeology and the important issues archaeologists deal with when they are not fighting to rescue the past they so eagerly strive to protect (Sabloff 1999). To this end, the AIA and many scholars in the field have worked towards addressing issues of accuracy in popular historical representations such as Troy (2004) or Mel Gibson’s 2006 film Apocalypto. In order to satisfy the public’s interest in history and the truth of the past, the AIA and SAA have also made an effort to disseminate scientific evaluations of popular movies and television shows (Waldbaum 2004; Dixon Renoe & Jeppson n.d.). Popular Culture and Archaeology Though the real world of archaeology may not seem as exciting on the surface as it is in the movies, archaeologists should – and certainly do – strive to make it important and exciting in their own communities. Indeed, Jeremy Sabloff (1999) cogently illustrates how the professional structure of archaeology has prohibited the communication of archaeological practices and findings to the public in popular formats. In recent years, this disconnect between archaeologist and the public they serve has begun to shrink with the expansion of public archaeology and an ethical imperative to make research and results accessible to communities (SAA Ethics in American Archaeology Committee 1996). Professional archaeologists in the popular media are still underrepresented however and are thus inaccessible to the general population. The absence of professional archaeology from these popular formats opens the door for misinterpretation and furthers the glamorous view of archaeology through misguided interpretations of the past and a reliance on famous historical enthusiasts (Sabloff 1999). Archaeology can only benefit from a deeper involvement in the popular presentation of the subject. Only when there are real, accessible, examples to follow will the public form their opinions of archaeologists and their duties on reality rather than the archetypes transmitted through popular culture. The representation of archaeology in popular media greatly influences the public perception of the discipline. Although there are issues with the way archaeology and archaeologists are depicted in movies, books, and on television, the real issue lies in the general public consensus that has been fueled by these images of the archaeologist as adventurer. Many of the misconceptions that are held about archaeology and those who work in the field are not limited to a single geographical region. In his 2006 article, “Out of the Box: Popular Notions of Archaeology in Documentary Programs on Australian Television”, Stephen Nichols summarizes popular misconceptions held in Australia, the United States, and Canada. With the widespread consistency of archaeologists being considered as connoisseurs of all pasts, diggers of dinosaur bones and ancient treasure, and academics with no relevance in today’s 6019 P world, it begs the question of how this global attitude towards archaeology developed and how those in the field can work to address these issues on a global scale. Cross-References ▶ Advertising and the Appropriation of Culture ▶ Authenticity and the Manufacture of Heritage ▶ Communicating Archaeology: Education, Ethics, and Community Outreach in North America ▶ Cultural Heritage and the Public ▶ Cultural Heritage Management and Images of the Past ▶ Cultural Heritage Outreach ▶ Film, Archaeology in ▶ Media and Archaeology ▶ Stewardship, Concept of References AIA NEWS. 2008. Harrison Ford elected to AIA Board. Available at: http://www.archaeological.org/news/ aianews/282 (accessed 28 September 2012). ALDENDERFER, M. (ed.) 1996. 1996 SAA award recipients. SAA Bulletin 14(3). DIXON RENOE, S.& P.L. JEPPSON. n.d. Movies & TV. Available at: http://www.saa.org/ForthePublic/ FunforAllAges/MoviesTV/tabid/95/Default.aspx (accessed 28 September 2012). KROSHUS MEDINA, L. 2003. Commoditizing culture: tourism and Maya identity. Annals of Tourism Research 30(2):353-68. MCGEOUGH, K. 2006. Heroes, mummies, and treasure: Near Eastern archaeology in the movies. Near Eastern Archaeology 69(3):174-85. NICHOLS, S. 2006. Out of the box: popular notions of archaeology in documentary programmes on Australian television. Australian Archaeology 63: 35-46. NOBLE, V.E. 2007. When the legend becomes fact: reconciling Hollywood realism and archaeological realities, in J.M. Schablitsky (ed.) Box office archaeology: refining Hollywood’s portrayals of the past: 223-4. Walnut Creek: Left Coast Press. SAA ETHICS IN AMERICAN ARCHAEOLOGY COMMITTEE. 1996. SAA principles of archaeological ethics. Available at: http://www.saa.org/AbouttheSociety/ PrinciplesofArchaeologicalEthics/tabid/203/Default. aspx (accessed 24 September 2012). P P 6020 SABLOFF, J.A. 1999. Distinguished lecture in archaeology: communication and the future of American archaeology. American Anthropologist 100(4):869-75. WALDBAUM, J.C. 2004. The silver screen: what to believe, what not to believe. Archaeology July/August 4. Further Reading HOLTORF, C. 2007. Archaeology is a brand! The meaning of archaeology in contemporary popular culture. Walnut Creek: Left Coast Press. Port of Alexandria: Underwater Archaeology Franck Goddio and David Fabre Institut Européen d’Archéologie Sous-Marine, Paris, France Introduction/Definition Founded by Alexander the Great in the western Nile Delta in 331 BCE, Alexandria developed over several centuries as a result of specific geomorphological features and the systematic development of its coastline. The Pleistocene sandstone bedrock provided a stable foundation for the construction of buildings, while also serving as a quarry. An inland lake was located behind the city, and across from it was an island. This island, named Pharos by the Greeks, was connected to Alexandria early on in the Hellenistic period by means of a 1,200-m causeway or Heptastadium that created a dual harbor complex, with the port of Eunostos to the west and Megas Limèn-Magnus Portus (or Portus Magnus) to the east. The objective of the research project launched in 1992 by the Institut Européen d’Archéologie Sous-Marine (IEASM) in cooperation with the Supreme Council for Antiquities of Egypt (SCA) was to determine the precise ancient topography of the eastern port of Alexandria now underwater (Goddio & Darwish 1998: 1-52; Fabre & Goddio 2010). This study has included both the geodynamic research of natural and anthropic features and the analysis of the coevolution of ancient society and the coastal area of the western Nile Delta. Port of Alexandria: Underwater Archaeology The scientific approach to the study of the Portus Magnus was designed to utilize the full range of geomorphological and archaeological data, as well as literary, epigraphic, and iconographic sources. Extensive historiographical knowledge of the accounts of the first explorers was also essential to the study. This data has provided a crucial link between the monuments from antiquity that were still visible when the early travelers’ reports were written and the area under examination, which covers 400 ha of the present day eastern port (Fig. 1). The scientific approach to the investigation of the Portus Magnus has taken into account the specific topography of the areas studied. However, the simple observation of the current state of the seafloor using geophysical and geological prospecting instruments also failed to provide full insight into the ancient topography. One effective method of locating underwater archaeological ruins covered in sediment was to use sensitive nuclear magnetic resonance magnetometers to create a very high-definition magnetic map. This indicates the location of the buried archaeological ruins by continuously measuring the absolute value of the magnetic field, with a sensitivity of about 1/100 gamma. An electronic image of the seafloor has also been created by means of scanning with a side-scan sonar and, more recently, a multi-beam sonar, which has revealed items protruding from the sediment. The results of this work demonstrate that the sites were subject to both long-term subsidence of the land that commonly affects this section of the southeastern basin of the Mediterranean as well as short-term cataclysmic sediment failure. These factors, which may have operated independently or together, would have caused considerable destruction and explain the submergence of the Portus Magnus as well as other large parts of the Canopic region (Goddio 2007; Stanley 2007). All of the evidence has shown that regular subsidence and the rising sea level – observed since ancient times – contributed significantly to the submergence of the Portus Magnus. It is generally acknowledged that the sea level in Alexandria has risen by 1–1.5 m, and the land level has dropped by 5–6 m over the last 2,000 years. Port of Alexandria: Underwater Archaeology 6021 P Port of Alexandria: Underwater Archaeology, Fig. 1 The ancient topography of the Portus Magnus of Alexandria (Photo: Franck Goddio #Franck Goddio/ Hilti Foundation) The southern coast of the eastern Mediterranean has also been subject to various forms of tectonic movement due to the subduction of the African plate under the Anatolian plate. Ancient texts give accounts of earthquakes and tsunamis affecting the region, especially the tsunami of 21 July 365, which affected southeastern Mediterranean coasts, and an earthquake in the mid-eighth century. Key Issues/Current Debates An Overview of the Hellenistic and Roman Topography of Alexandria’s Portus Magnus: Texts Versus Archaeology While geophysical prospection in the Port of Alexandria and subsequent underwater excavations has failed to reveal the splendor of the palaces of Alexandria, they have generated excellent cartographic details of the eastern port and its surroundings. The research has allowed the contours of the former land surface to be traced with a certain degree of accuracy and in some cases has provided information on the structures and buildings which once stood near the palaces, such as the royal ports, the Poseidium peninsula, and the island of Antirhodos, as well as the Basileia – a seafront palace complex containing a series of government buildings and cultural institutions. The study of the harbors has focused on determining their depths and sedimentation type, identifying shipwrecks, and tracing the plan of the docks (Figs. 2, 3). The numerous architectural elements covering the palace area were identified and studied, and limited excavations were carried out to determine the timeline of the development, abandonment, and destruction of the sites. The layout of the ports turns out to be more technically coherent than previously believed. More precisely, two channels leading to the large port have been mapped. The main channel, toward the middle of the harbor, was bordered to the west by a large submerged rock. The narrower minor channel allowed ships to pass between this rock and the island of Pharos. The famous lighthouse must have stood nearby. Considering the topographical and geological results along with the literary evidence, and in the absence of P P 6022 Port of Alexandria: Underwater Archaeology Port of Alexandria: Underwater Archaeology, Fig. 2 Port structures assembled from piles and wood planks that support a structure made of limestone blocks, PF sector, northeastern of the Poseidium peninsula (Drawing: Patrice Sandrin #Franck Goddio/Hilti Foundation) archaeological proof showing another position, it is reasonable to posit at this point that the lighthouse was located on the rock situated between the two channels. Nothing visible remains today of this prestigious monument that was a wonder of its day. Its remains are probably hidden by the enormous mass of the current western breakwater, which links Fort Qaitbey to the great central rock, now submerged and mostly covered by the blocks of the modern structure (Goddio et al. forthcoming, contra Empereur 1998 for which the lighthouse was situated on the site of the medieval Fort Qaitbey). Recent archaeological work has identified built-up areas to the west of the “royal port” (in the central area of the Bay of Alexandria), highlighting the complexity of the Portus Magnus’ infrastructure. While it remains unclear as to exactly how such structures were organized, the results shed light on the navigable routes inside the Portus Magnus, confirming that it was “wonderfully concealed” (Strabo, 17.28; Charvet 1997). The eastern part of the great port is, in fact, delimited by a large stretch of land, now underwater, which formed part of the ancient Cape Lochias. Appreciably wider and extending over 450 m west-northwest of present day Cape Silsileh, it provided considerable natural protection for the Portus Magnus. A very sheltered port was established in Cape Lochias, with two docks and a surface area of approximately 7 ha. Jetties, quays, and seawalls combined to form a well-concealed port almost inserted into Cape Lochias. Since the large central reef had to be navigated to enter the port, only rowing boats like galleys would have been able to enter easily. The discoveries here correspond to ancient texts. According to Strabo, “Above these buildings (in Cape Lochias) lies a concealed man-made port, private property of the kings” (Strabo, 17.1.6-10; Charvet 1997). The author of The Alexandrian War wrote: “This area of the city (where Caesar was entrenched) contained a small part of the royal palace where he himself had been brought to lodge on arrival, and the theater, adjacent to the palace, which Port of Alexandria: Underwater Archaeology 6023 P Port of Alexandria: Underwater Archaeology, Fig. 3 Port structures assembled from piles and wood planks that support a structure made of limestone blocks, PF sector, northeastern of the Poseidium peninsula (Photo: Christoph Gerigk #Franck Goddio/Hilti Foundation) served as a citadel and provided access to the port and the royal shipyards” (Bellum Alexandrinum, 1; Andrieu 1954). A large port was established between the southwestern jetty of the inner port and the Poseidium peninsula, measuring approximately 15 ha. The remains of a temple from the Roman period have been excavated where the peninsula meets the ancient shoreline. At the end of a wall of the peninsula, extending toward the center of a port basin, excavations have revealed foundations dating from the end of the first century BCE and redevelopments from the period of the Antonines. The identity of the ruins is not certain, but we know, thanks to Strabo, that Marcus Antonius built the Timonium, a small palace retreat at the end of a wall of the Poseidium. He wanted to retreat there and live in seclusion after his defeat at Actium by his rival Octavian. Could the ruins from the end of the Ptolemaic period be those of the famous Roman general’s retreat? Excavations in progress may reveal this. The island of Antirhodos, 350 m long by 70 m wide, is located off the southwestern tip of the Poseidium peninsula and may be divided into three sections. The main section, with a southeast to northeast orientation, is aligned with the seawall and the pier extending from the tip of the peninsula and lies parallel to the ancient coast. Research has shown that this island had probably been developed before the founding of Alexandria (cf. infra) and that extensive work was executed there later, toward the middle of the third century BCE until the Roman period. A large seawall protrudes from the northwestern end of the island, 340 m long by 30 m wide, forming a second section. Recent fieldwork conducted on this area has confirmed the presence of large size buildings characterized by limestone blocks, fragments of wall covering, P P 6024 Port of Alexandria: Underwater Archaeology, Fig. 4 Priest bearing in his veiled hands an Osiris-Canopus jar. Roman period. Granodiorite. H. 122 cm (Photo: Christoph Gerigk #Franck Goddio/Hilti Foundation) mosaics, and friezes. The information indicates the collapse of a building, probably in correspondence with the destruction of the eastern part of Antirhodos. This is the same area from which the statue of a priest carrying a Canopic jar (Goddio & Fabre 2008: 161) was found along with sphinxes (Fig. 4). Among these finds was Port of Alexandria: Underwater Archaeology a statue of Ptolemy XII, the father of Cleopatra VII (Goddio & Fabre 2008: 356-7), suggesting the site of a temple dedicated to Isis. At the end of the third section, oriented northwest to southeast, a jetty built from limestone blocks protrudes northeast, forming with the island a small haven fully sheltered from swells and waves, which may correspond to the “small port” described by Strabo: “. . . private property of the kings, as is Antirhodos, the island located before the manmade port, containing a royal palace and a small port” (Strabo, 17.1.6-10; Charvet 1997). Here, the remains of a ship lie some 5 m deep and spread over a surface of about 350 sqm. The ship seems to have been free of any cargo. Nevertheless, the items found on board and in the sealing layer above the wreck, the details of the ship’s architecture, and radiocarbon dating results suggest that the ship sank sometime between the end of the first century BCE and the first century CE. Its approximate dimensions (30–31  10–11 m) – representing a coefficient of elongation of about 2.7 correspond to the dimensions of commercial ships of the Roman period (Sandrin et al. 2012). The ruins of quays and piers were also identified during prospecting on the “ancient coast” (Fig. 5). This alone shows that nineteenth- and twentieth-century reclamation work encroaching on the sea with landfills did not entirely conceal the area that subsidence and land collapse had previously submerged. Visible along the entire eastern part of the Portus Magnus, this ancient coast is sometimes paved and contains numerous architectural remains and beautiful remnants of statuary, among which was a colossal head of Caesarion (Goddio & Fabre 2008: 357). The research carried out in the western part of the Portus Magnus reveals the complex organization of the Port of Alexandria. After describing the royal quarter and port and moving from east to west, Strabo continues to examine this area: “Next comes the Caesareum, then the Emporium and the warehouses followed by the arsenals, extending as far as the Heptastadium” (Strabo, 17.50.9; Charvet 1997). Facing the Heptastadium, a port protected this long Port of Alexandria: Underwater Archaeology Port of Alexandria: Underwater Archaeology, Fig. 5 Ruins of quays or esplanade identified during prospecting on the “ancient coast.” (Photo: Christoph Gerigk #Franck Goddio/Hilti Foundation causeway (Fabre & Goddio 2010). It featured basins ideally suited to receive ships waiting to go from the eastern port to the western port that gave access to Egyptian domestic traffic. Indeed, according to the texts (Strabo, 17.1.6; Caesar, Bellum Civile, 3.312), two openings were constructed in this seawall and controlled by forts, allowing passage from one port to another. Development and Operation of the Port The discoveries in the eastern Bay of Alexandria show that the entire port infrastructure was designed to optimize the natural environment. Nevertheless, beginning in the Hellenistic period, harbor construction and urban development resulted in dramatic changes to the coastline. This forces us to consider the logic behind transforming an enclosed natural bay into a series of harbors. 6025 P Maritime dynamics also hint at the historical workings of the Portus Magnus. The map of the submerged port structures in the eastern port of Alexandria suggests a vast bay surrounded by a group of similarly sized harbors. J.-Ph. Goiran correctly notes: “Due to the specific organization of the bay, initially too vast to provide natural shelter, a group of small harbors was needed along the far end of the bay [. . .]. The purpose of these was to break up the coastline as seen in modern marinas” (Goiran 2001: 140). Alexandria’s Portus Magnus benefited from its specific geography. The archaeological structures found are cut out of the substrate or constructed in the form of straight or curved seawalls. Similarly, the extremely developed coastline has been somewhat artificially extended. Diodorus of Sicily notes: “They [Alexander’s successors] enhanced it, some building magnificent palaces, others constructing arsenals and ports, others adding religious monuments and magnificent buildings, so that in the eyes of most people it was the first or second city of the inhabited world” (Diod. Sic., 1.50.7; Vernière 1993). The Romans more than likely optimized the structures of the port and made proactive adjustments to what the Ptolemies had initiated. It is not completely possible to establish a convincing parallel between the eastern port of Alexandria and the classical port models, such as the ports with merging lagoons or cothon-type port. At most, very general similarities may be found with the Port of Tyre (Bernand 1998: 47; Marriner et al. 2008). Yet the Port of Alexandria forms part of a series of major port developments which began in the sixth century BCE and may be attributed to maritime projects and ambitions of great tyrants. The Greek approach was applied to the Bay of Alexandria, by which a man-made port was created or a natural port was enlarged using jetties to provide shelter from the winds, to facilitate landing and to protect the ships. The jetties were often curved in such a manner as to form a port. In some cases, an islet in the bay was used as the base for a single large seawall: Alexandria’s Heptastadium is the best preserved example of this. By Greek standards, these structures alone P P 6026 constituted a “man-made port.” But there were also ports dug by hand, at least in the Hellenistic period. Such was the case, in Alexandria, of the port known as the “box” (kibôtos) in the western harbor (Fraser 1972: n. 182; Tkaczow 1993: 58 n. 6; McKenzie 2007: 176). Pharaonic Egypt does not seem to have had “constructed” ports on its shores. At most there would have been landing piers and/or anchorage points (Fabre 2004: 19-35), with the exception of the ports in coastal lakes of the Nile Delta. Does this mean that the Port of Alexandria was developed ex nihilo? A number of converging factors suggest that the Bay of Alexandria was developed before the arrival of Alexander. The wooden port structures (quays and jetties) discovered in the axis of the eastern – and main – section of the island of Antirhodos have been dated as pre-Ptolemaic (Goddio & Darwish 1998: 31). The data should be correlated with recent analyses of the lead contained in the sedimentary archives for the harbors in the eastern Bay of Alexandria, which contradicts the notion that Alexandria was constructed ex nihilo (Goiran 2001: 223-4; Véron et al. 2006; Stanley & Landau 2010). These results corroborate certain accounts in the ancient texts, which state that the Bay of Alexandria offered an anchorage point well known to sailors (Homer, Od. 4.354-69). Alexandria obeyed an economic and political logic that had gradually developed over the centuries to become “the largest emporium of the inhabited world” (Strabo, 17.1.13; Charvet 1997). Alexandria inherited the administrative and economic structures of Thonis-Heracleion (Pseudo-Aristotle, Economics, 2.33e). This locality was the border crossing, customs post, and emporium through which Greek imports passed on their way to the trading posts of Naukratis (Fabre 2008). Due to its population size and its activities, Alexandria quickly attracted a large share of Mediterranean and Eritrean trade. Alexandria was a center of eastern navigation in the Hellenistic period, and its commerce benefited from the state organization of the Ptolemaic economy. Later, during the Roman period, Egyptian grain shipped from Alexandria was used as a genuine political weapon by emperors and Port of Alexandria: Underwater Archaeology claimants to the imperial throne alike. This would have required substantial port infrastructure, and thus the port was well equipped with harbors, quays, warehouses, and water supply points (Fabre & Goddio 2010) (Fig. 5). These zones of the emporium of Alexandria, as well as the royal ports, military ports, and shipyards were designed as places of transit and transfer and are distinguished by their technical, political, and economic dimensions. The research currently being completed should provide clues as to the layout of these areas crossed by ancient ships. We should also gain insight into the cultural organization or implicit hierarchies in the Portus Magnus. From a technical viewpoint, the results of topographical work in the Portus Magnus of Alexandria raise questions regarding the port layout while also taking navigating conditions (winds and swells) and the types of vessels accommodated (sailing ships or row boats) into consideration. From a theoretical viewpoint, the zones of the eastern port are at the core of more general questions regarding the major political and economic intermediary players in the organization, regulation, and administrative and legal structures that served to define the harbor and its integration into the city. Cross-References ▶ Hellenistic and Roman Egypt, Archaeology of ▶ Mediterranean Sea: Maritime Archaeology References ANDRIEU, J. 1954. César. La guerre d’Alexandrie. Paris: Budé. BERNAND, A. 1998. Alexandrie la Grande. Paris: Hachette. CHARVET, P. 1997. Strabon. Le voyage en E´gypte: un regard romain. Paris: Ed. du Nil. EMPEREUR, J.-Y. 1998. La Phare d’Alexandrie, la merveille retrouvée. Paris: Gallimard. FABRE, D. 2004. Seafaring in ancient Egypt. London: Periplus. - 2008. Heracleion-Thonis: customs station and emporion, in F. Goddio & D. Fabre (ed.) Egypt’s sunken treasures, catalogue of the exhibition: 219-34. Munich: Prestel. Portable Art Recording Methods FABRE, D. & F. GODDIO. 2010. The development and operation of the Portus Magnus in Alexandria: an overview, in A. Wilson & D. Robinson (ed.) Alexandria and the north-western Nile Delta - Joint Conference Proceedings of Alexandria: City and Harbour (Oxford 2004) and Trade, Topography and Material Culture of Egypt’s North-Western Delta (Berlin 2006): 53-74. Oxford: Oxford Centre for Maritime Archaeology. FRASER, P.M. 1972. Ptolemaic Alexandria. Oxford: Clarendon. GODDIO, F. 2007. Topography and excavation of Heracleion-Thonis and East Canopus (1996-2006): underwater archaeology in the Canopic region in Egypt (Oxford Centre for Maritime Archaeology Monograph 1). Oxford: Oxford Centre for Maritime Archaeology. GODDIO, F. & I. DARWISH. 1998. Topographie des quartiers royaux submergés du Port Est d’Alexandrie, in F. Goddio et al. (ed.) Alexandrie. Les quartiers royaux submergés: 1-52. London: Periplus. GODDIO, F. & D. FABRE. (ed.) 2008. Egypt’s sunken treasures, catalogue of the exhibition. Munich: Prestel. GOIRAN, J.-P. 2001. Recherches géomorphologiques dans la région littorale d’Alexandrie en Égypte. Unpublished PhD dissertation, Universite Aix-Marseille. MARRINER, N., J.-P. GOIRAN & C. MORHANGE. 2008. Alexander the Great’s tombolos at Tyre and Alexandria, eastern Mediterranean. Geomorphology 100: 377-400. MCKENZIE, J. 2007. The architecture of Alexandria and Egypt c. 300 BC to AD 700. New Haven-London: Yale University Press. SANDRIN, P., A. BELOV & D. FABRE. 2012. The Roman shipwreck of Antirhodos Island in the Portus Magnus of Alexandria, Egypt. International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 363: 1-16. STANLEY, J.-D. 2007. Geoarchaeology. Underwater archaeology in the Canopic region in Egypt (Oxford Centre for Maritime Archaeology Monograph 2). Oxford: Oxford Centre for Maritime Archaeology. STANLEY, J.-D. & E.A. LANDAU. 2010. Early human activity (pre-332 BC) in Alexandria, Egypt: new findings in sediment cores from the Eastern Harbour, in A. Wilson & D. Robinson (ed.) Alexandria and the north-western Nile Delta - Joint Conference Proceedings of Alexandria: City and Harbour (Oxford 2004) and Trade, Topography and Material Culture of Egypt’s North-Western Delta (Berlin 2006): 35-52. Oxford: Oxford Centre for Maritime Archaeology. TKACZOW, B. 1993. Topography of ancient Alexandria, an archaeological map (Travaux du Centre d’Archéologie Méditerranéenne Polonaise des Science 32). Warsaw: Éditions Scientifiques de Pologne. VERNIÈRE, Y. 1993. Diodore, Bibliothèque historique. Paris: Budé. VÉRON, A., J.P. GOIRAN, C. MORHANGE, N. MARRINER & J.-Y. EMPEREUR. 2006. Pollutant lead reveals the pre-Hellenistic occupation and ancient growth of Alexandria, Egypt. Geophysical Research Letters 33: 1-4. 6027 P Further Reading GODDIO, F & D. FABRE. (ed.) Forthcoming. Alexandria. The topography of the Portus Magnus. Underwater archaeology in the eastern port of Alexandria in Egypt. (Oxford Centre for Maritime Archaeology Monograph). Oxford: Oxford Centre for Maritime Archaeology. GOIRAN, J.-P. & C. MORHANGE. 1999. Nouvelles données sédimentologiques et biologiques sur le tombolo et dans le port antique d’Alexandrie, Égypte. Bulletin de Correspondance Hellénique 123: 560-6. GOIRAN, J.-P., N. MARRINER, C. MORHANGE, M.M. ABD ELMAGUIB, K. ESPIC, M. BOURCIER & P. CARBONEL. 2005. Évolution de la géomorphologie littorale à Alexandrie (Égypte) au cours des six derniers millénaires, in J.-P. Goiran, C. Morhange & N. Marriner (ed.) Environnements littoraux méditerranéens. Héritage et mobilité. Méditerranée. Revue géographique des pays méditerranéens 104: 61-4. HESSE, A., P. ANDRIEUX & M. ATYA. 2002. L’Heptastade d’Alexandrie Alexandrina 2. E´tudes Alexandrines 6: 191-273. Portable Art Recording Methods Gilles Tosello1 and Valentı́n Villaverde2 1 Centre de Recherche et d’Etude pour l’Art Préhistorique (CREAP), Toulouse, France 2 Departamento de Prehistoria y Arqueologı́a, Universitat de València, Valencia, Spain P Introduction Although much less well known than rock or cave art, Paleolithic portable art is comprised of graphic and symbolic manifestations represented on objects and on portable raw materials in contrast with parietal or wall art, which is, by definition, “immobile”), which were left by human groups during the Upper Paleolithic period (between 45,000 cal BP and 15,000 cal BP in Europe). The first European portable art was recovered in the 1860s, very early in the history of prehistoric archaeology. Some pieces, such as the mammoth engraved on ivory at La Madeleine (Dordogne, France), played a determining role in the debate on the existence of an “antediluvian” art. For nearly a century, discoveries proceeded at P 6028 Portable Art Recording Methods Portable Art Recording Methods, Fig. 1 Limeuil (Dordogne, France). Perforated baton decorated with three reindeer, a salmon, and a horse (coll. Musée d’Archéologie Nationale) (Photos G. Tosello) a steady pace, enriching public and private collections; however, the excavation methods often practiced at that time rarely took into account the archaeological contexts of the objects. Documentation is often reduced to the object itself and any new study must begin with a search of the archives regarding the site or the excavator, whenever these are available. Although the total number of pieces discovered in Europe is unknown (there is no international data base on this topic), it can be estimated to be in the tens of thousands with concentrations at sites in the southwest of France, Spain and northern Italy, central Germany, Slovakia, and the Czech Republic. The distribution of sites having yielded portable art is much greater than that of cave art. However, the number of pieces per site varies considerably; there are sometimes isolated pieces such as at Etiolles (Essonne, France) (Fritz & Tosello 2011), a set of several dozen decorated objects such as at Altamira (Cantabria, Spain) (Barandiaran 1973), Romanelli (Puglia, Italy), and Duruthy (Landes, France), and up to a corpus of several thousand objects such as those found in deposits in El Parpalló (Valencia, Spain) (Villaverde 1994), Gönnersdorf (Rhineland-Palatinate, Germany) (Bosinski & Fischer 1974; Bosinski, D’Errico & Schiller 2001; Bosinski 2008), or La Marche (Vienne, France) (Pales & Tassin 1969). The materials are of great diversity: bone, ivory, antler, shells, and marine fossils, including also limestone, shale, and sandstone. The term portable art applies to objects as diverse as a reindeer antler spear point decorated with crossed line patterns, a flat bone pierced and carved in the shape of a horse head, a statuette of a woman in soapstone, or a limestone slab sculptured into a bison. Typology, combined with experimentations have made it possible to classify these objects into three main categories (Leroi-Gourhan 1965). The first category includes weapons, domestic tools, and all the objects for which their function determines the morphology. Thus, a perforated baton has a shaft, more or less cylindrical, and an expanded top with a perforation. Consequently, the decorations fit these constraints (Figs. 1– 3). A second category includes set of ornaments in the broadest sense of the term. The presence of a suspension system (e.g., a pierced hole) is the common attribute to group together seashells, animal teeth, small flat bones cutout (in disc form, zoomorphic silhouette), fragments of rare materials (lignite, amber, fossil tooth), animal or human statuettes or figurives, which are thought to have adorned the body or clothing. Finally, the third category consists of bones and stones of all sizes, which are engraved or carved into three dimensions. At some sites engraved stones, commonly called “plaquettes” number in the hundreds, even thousands, and whose social functions remain enigmatic (Pales & Tassin 1969; Bosinski & Fischer 1974; Villaverde 1994; Tosello 2003). However, this classification should be regarded as only a first approach. There are many pieces of portable art that are “unclassifiable,” especially those which were transformed or reused, and not even considering Portable Art Recording Methods Portable Art Recording Methods, Fig. 2 Limeuil (Dordogne, France). Perforated baton in reindeer autler; from top to bottom, details of two reindeer, a horse, and a salmon (coll. Musée d’Archéologie Nationale) (Photos G. Tosello) certain objects or weapons whose actual function has not been established with certainty. The diversity and difficulty of classifying such archaeological materials show that above all the artistic and symbolic practices of these prehistoric hunter-gathers permeated their activities. Definition The organic or inorganic (i.e., mineral) nature of the raw material has important consequences for 6029 P the study of the objects and the techniques used. Contrary to what one might think, stone materials (limestone, sandstone, schist) are often in poorer condition than organic materials. Indeed, the latter, and bone in particular, because of its fibrous and compact structure, offer a high degree of conservation of engravings and traces from shaping (Fritz 1999). By contrast, the surfaces of sedimentary stones have often suffered from chemical damage or carbonate deposits during their long deposition within archaeological layers. The engraved features, clearly legible in prehistoric times, are now weathered and difficult to read; only the use of lateral lighting close to the rock can reveal them. Painted objects are very rare, because the colors are not retained; nevertheless, some pieces with traces of pigment, or even identifiable figures, have survived and prove that portable art was also colorful (Villaverde 1994) (Fig. 4). Portable art is affected by a very high level of fragmentation; whole pieces are rare, because they suffered conditions of burial in the ground or they were damaged during the excavation: some were intentionally damaged by prehistoric peoples. Whatever the nature of the raw material, one of the first stages of research (if not the first) is to estimate the state of conservation of the object, determining whether it is “complete” (or almost) and if this is not the case, identifying the origin or origins of fragmentation. While studying pieces from old excavations, it is important to ensure that there are no other fragments of that same piece to be studied. This reconstruction of the pieces is essential when studying engraved or sculptured stone materials, plaquettes, slabs, and blocks. It can often complete figures, which will confirm or modify the zoological identification, for example. By observing the nature of the fractures (modern or ancient), we can begin to reconstruct the life cycle of the object from its origin to its current state (Fig. 5). The next step in the research is to establish a graphic copy (or “relevé”). All of the traces observed on a surface must be reproduced objectively. The tracing phase is critical for subsequent syntheses of observations, such as the themes depicted; besides being a document for analysis, P P 6030 Portable Art Recording Methods Portable Art Recording Methods, Fig. 3 Limeuil (Dordogne, France). Perforated baton in reindeer autler tracing of the cylindrical decorated shaft and “flattening” of the engraving. (tracing G. Tosello) Portable Art Recording Methods, Fig. 4 Parpalló Cave (Valencia, Spain). Plate No. 16061A. Photograph of a detail of a figure of a black-painted doe with an overlay of a carved horse. Right, a tracing of the plate (Photo and tracing V. Villaverde) the tracing becomes a substitute for the object, particularly at the time of publication. The different readings of the same object made by different researchers generally show minor variations, which may sometimes be significant, showing that objectivity remains an elusive goal. Tracing techniques fall into two categories: contact and non-contact tracing techniques. Portable Art Recording Methods 6031 P P Portable Art Recording Methods, Fig. 5 Theoretical scenario of a “cycle” of an engraving which helps explain the high level of fracturing that affects the engraved plaguettes in Europe, particularly in the Upper Magdalenian (G. Tosello scheme based on site data from Limeuil) Known for a long time, contact tracing techniques are intuitive and easy to implement. A very fine and perfectly translucent plastic film (of the polythene variety) is placed over the surface; a raking light, moved from time to time as work progresses, can help identify engravings, or any other information, which are then transferred onto the film using thin-tipped markers. This technique offers some advantages: it is cheap, easy to use, and very adaptable on rough P 6032 Portable Art Recording Methods the prehistoric engraver’s gestures. On the other hand, the magnification of engravings through photography (printed or displayed on the screen) provides a stable base for the copy, which thus avoids a sometimes too ephemeral observation of the original piece. On miniature works, the enlargement can reveal minutiae that are almost imperceptible to the naked eye. When it comes to publication, the tracing plays a major role: it represents the synthesis of the decipherment done by the researcher that is his/her interpretation of the object. The temptation is often great to reproduce as much information as possible (differential readability of the engravings, state of the surface, natural cracks in the rock, traces of shaping, concretions, etc.) Portable Art Recording Methods, Fig. 6 Gourdan which has led in the past to codification charts Cave (Haute-Garonne, France). Engraved plaquettes in inspired by geology or cartography (Delluc & schist (No. 47264 collection Musée d’Archéologie Delluc 1984). In our opinion, the use of complex Nationale) (Photos C. Fritz) graphic charts should be reduced because it only complicates the reader’s task of “decoding” the stone surfaces and poses little danger to the published tracing. It should focus on the anthropogenic aspects of these objects, which in our original. When the dimensions of the object are small eyes is their major interest. Photography is an indispensable tool in any (only a few cm2), direct transfer becomes impossible, especially if the incisions are very thin research on portable Paleolithic art. A long and (Fig. 6). It then becomes necessary to work on delicate operation, photographing engravings is photographic enlargements; one puts a transparent performed like deciphering, with a raking light, film on the printed photo, and all that is needed is to or of minimum incidence, applied closely. replicate the rendition of the photo, constantly The photographic shot is important as it often provides the opportunity, through the search checking against the original. The difference between the original engraving for optimal lighting, to confirm or reject and the photo transfer on a different scale is a hypothetical reading. Photography is thus fully a mental challenge. A variant of this technique involved in the progress of the analysis while is to trace the lines on a photo of the piece providing a part of the iconography. For publication, only the photos have the displayed on the computer screen, with the aid of graphics software. In cases where the engrav- power to evoke in every detail the appearance of ings are not located on a flat surface but on three- decorated surfaces; this is an important point dimensional surfaces, it is necessary to test which because if the graphic tracings seek to compremethod is best suited, for example, through hend and try to make sense of documents, a deconstruction of the piece see (Fig. 3). When photography undoubtedly gives a more objective the engravings are very dense, the process of vision. Conversely, the publication of portable art selecting layers for tracing can isolate each one photos, particularly of engraved plaquettes without their tracing, is an error in method and in of them (Fig. 7). Each of these procedures presents specific communication (Chollot 1964); generally the advantages: drawing directly on the film covering reader cannot successfully isolate the figures or the object allows, through the reproduction motifs mentioned in the text. Ideally, each piece of the same lines, a very close approximation of of portable Paleolithic art should be illustrated by Portable Art Recording Methods 6033 P Portable Art Recording Methods, Fig. 7 Gourdan Cave (Haute-Garonne, France). Engraved plaquette in schist No. 47264. Complete tracing of the engraved sen face and selective tracings of three animal heads in the order of superposition: reindeer, horse, and aurochs (?) (tracings C. Fritz) one or more tracings accompanied by one or more photographs to enable the reader to find how the photos and the tracings can be correlated (Figs. 8–10). The main obstacle is of course the cost of printing, especially when there are many pieces. In this case, we must focus on publishing the most comprehensive record of the corpus (Sieveking 1987; Villaverde 1994; Tosello 2003) and avoid publishing only the pieces deemed “major” or which concern specific topics (see, e.g., at La Marche, felines and bears: Pales & Tassin 1969) which gives a truncated depiction of the site’s corpus. When the studied objects have preserved traces of paint (associated or not associated with the engraving), imaging processing techniques that are commonly used for rock art, provide an important contribution to the tracing work. Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples Since the late 1980s, the constant improvement in the performance of optical observation instruments (binocular magnifying lens, microscopes) has led to dramatic advances in the precision of information, opening new avenues of interpretation (D’Errico 1995). On bone, ivory, or antler, the observation of drawings by scanning electron microscopy P P 6034 Portable Art Recording Methods experienced engravers and “apprentices”, which also brings up the question of how technical knowledge was transmitted in the traditions of these societies. Over the past 15 years, three-dimensional technologies have been used to research prehistoric parietal and portable art. The results obtained in caves have opened up the possibility for the reconstitution of decorated objects in 3D. 3D recording of an object with fine engravings is no longer an insurmountable obstacle, but does remain a major challenge; in fact, the fineness of the engravings (often submillimeter) often approaches or exceeds the maximum resolution for 3D laser scanners. Other solutions such as microtopography exist, which is a complex system of analysis and 3D restoration based on the use of a confocal microscope (Mélard 2010). The resulting images are of very high precision (up to 0.1 mm), which enables the visualization of engravings and their relative chronology, thanks to the tridimensional restitution of their triangulation. The main obstacles to microtopography Portable Art Recording Methods, Fig. 8 La Madeleine remain its limitations as to the scope of analysis (Dordogne, France). Engraved slab in limestone (Photo (20 cm diameter); it requires the object to be G. Tosello/coll. Musée d’Archéologie Nationale) moved to the laboratory and extends the length of data acquisition, which can take as long as (SEM) has revealed a rich source of information several hours for a small surface. Thanks to their high resolution, the 3D read(Fritz 1999). The SEM technique involves taking impressions using silicones; the resin replica, ings of engraved surfaces make it possible to obtained from the silicon mold, is covered by obtain measures of the depth of incisions at the a very thin film of gold or carbon to improve the microscopic level, allowing the resolution of electrical conductivity. Observation by SEM, complex superimpositions of engravings (Güth even at low magnification ( 20  50), reveals 2012). On engraved plaquettes that were often microscopic marks (stigmates) left by flint tools reused, we can thus determine the relative chroat the base of the incisions, some of which are nology of different themes and compositions. However, these methods are constantly invisible to the naked eye (Fritz 1999b). These marks may contain mechanical information, such changing, just like the processing power of comas the direction of movement of the tool, the puters. Similarly for digital photography, appliinclination of the active part relative to the sur- cations in archaeology continue to diversify. face of the object, and the number of passes made Among them, photogrammetry (a long standing by the tool in the incision. The study of the technique used particularly in cartography and engravings can also describe the engraver’s architecture) is experiencing a revival, which is hand, to evaluate their skill or clumsiness particularly promising for the study of portable (Fig. 11). Multiple analyses of pieces from art. High-definition shots of the object are taken the same archaeological layer and also from con- from different angles, with overlapping margins, temporary sites has helped identify local and thus forming a mosaic, from which it is possible regional “know-how”, and the existence of to generate a point cloud, and then a 3D model Portable Art Recording Methods 6035 P Portable Art Recording Methods, Fig. 9 La Madeleine (Dordogne, France). Tracing of the engraved limestone slab (G. Tosello Tracing) P that correlates to the photos. So, for the piece thus reproduced, it is possible to vary the lighting, zoom in, and view the details. Together, these operations can be done using free or inexpensive software, which is obviously a huge advantage for the student or researcher. For museography, the quality of the 3D photo documentation meets the needs of broadcast media and avoids unnecessary handling of original pieces. The beginning of our third millennium is marked by a constant and dramatic evolution in techniques for analysis and restoration in all fields of science and communication. It is difficult to predict what the recording methods and study of Paleolithic portable art will involve in the near future. Because it approximates human vision in three dimensions and meets the challenges posed by prehistoric decorated objects, we believe that 3D technology (without knowing in what form(s) exactly) will become more commonly used; traditional recording or tracing techniques will gradually disappear, and online publications will increase the quantity and quality of iconography, offering the Internet user the possibility to manipulate the object virtually, offering sequences for animation or modelling, etc. However, make no mistake: despite the advantages offered by this technology, these P 6036 Portable Art Recording Methods Portable Art Recording Methods, Fig. 10 Parpalló Cave (Valencia, Spain). Plaquette No. 20044. Photo and tracing of the motifs; a horse, three aurochs, an ibex, and various signs from the Upper Magdalenian period (Photo and tracing V. Villaverde) Portable Art Recording Methods, Fig. 11 The contribution of microscopic analysis to study engravings on bone. Various technical features stigmas observed at high magnification can help reproduce the direction of movement of the tool and the number of passes of the tool in the engravings or the chronology of superpositions, especially when the object is miniature (2.9 cm for this engraved bone, Arancou, Pyrenees Atlantiques, France; micrographs C. Fritz coll. MNP) Portuguese Faience and Historical Archaeology high-tech devices are yet another supplementary tool for the researcher and will not replace direct observation of original pieces, which remains the foundation for research. Cross-References ▶ Altamira and Paleolithic Cave Art of Northern Spain ▶ Art, Paleolithic ▶ Mobiliary Art, Paleolithic ▶ Pigment Analysis in Archaeology ▶ Scanning Electron Microscopy (SEM): Applications in Archaeology ▶ Switzerland: Upper Paleolithic Living Floor Investigations References BARANDIARAN MAESTU, I. 1973. Arte mueble del Paleolitico Cantabrico (Monografias arqueologicas, XIV). Zaragoza: Universidad de Zaragoza. BOSINSKI, G. 2008. Tierdarstellungen von Gönnersdorf : Nachträge zu Mammut und Pferd sowie die übrigen Tierdarstellungen (Monographien des RömischGermanischen Zentralmuseums Band 72). Mainz: Verlag des Römisch-Germanischen Zentralmuseums. BOSINSKI G. & G. FISCHER. 1974. Die Menschendarstellungen von Gönnersdorf der Ausgrabung von 1968, in Der Magdalénien-Fundplatz Gönnersdorf, Band 1. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag. BOSINSKI G., F. D’ERRICO & P. SCHILLER. 2001. Die Frauendarstellungen von Gönnersdorf, in Der Magdalénien-Fundplatz Gönnersdorf, Band 8. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag. CHOLLOT, M. 1964. Musée des Antiquités nationales: Collection Piette, art mobilier préhistorique. Paris: éditions des Musées nationaux, Ministère des Affaires culturelles. DELLUC B. & G. DELLUC. 1984. Lecture analytique des supports rocheux gravés et relevé synthétique. L’Anthropologie 88 (4): 51-529. D’ERRICO, F. 1995. L’art gravé azilien. De la technique à la signification (XXXI Supplément à GalliaPréhistoire). Paris: CNRS éditions. FRITZ, C. 1999a. La gravure dans l’art mobilier magdalé nien (Documents d’Archéologie Française 75). Paris: La maison des sciences de l’homme. - 1999b. Towards a rebuilding of the Magdalenian artistic processes: the use of microscopic analysis in the field of miniature art. Cambridge Archæological Journal 9(2): 189-208. 6037 P FRITZ, C. & G. TOSELLO. 2011. Exceptional evidence for Palaeolithic art in the Paris Basin: the engraved pebble from Étiolles (Essonne). Bulletin de la Société pré historique française 108 (1): 27-46. GÜTH, A. 2012. Using 3D scanning in the investigation of Upper Palaeolithic engravings: first results of a pilot study. Journal of Archaeological Science 39: 3105-14. LEROI-GOURHAN, A. 1965. Préhistoire de l’art occidental. Paris: Mazenod. MELARD, N. 2010. L’étude microtopographique et la visualisation 3D dans l’analyse de gravures préhistoriques – L’exemple des pierres gravées de La Marche. In Situ, revue des patrimoines [en ligne] 13. Available at: http://www.insitu.culture.fr/article.xsp? numero¼&id_article¼melard-1424. PALES, L. & M. TASSIN DE SAINT-PÉREUSE. 1969. Les gravures de la Marche 1: Félins et Ours (Publications de l’Institut de Préhistoire de l’Université de Bordeaux 7). Bordeaux: Delmas. SIEVEKING, A. 1987. A catalogue of Palaeolithic art in the British Museum. London: British Museum Publications. TOSELLO, G. 2003. Pierres gravées du Périgord magdalé nien: art, symboles, territoires (XXXVI Supplément à Gallia Préhistoire). Paris: CNRS éditions. VILLAVERDE, V. 1994. Arte paleolı́tico de la Cova del Parpalló. Valencia: Servicio de Investigación Prehistórica de la Diputación de Valencia. Portuguese Faience and Historical Archaeology Tânia Manuel Casimiro Instituto de Arqueologia e Paleociências da Universidade Nova de Lisboa, Departamento de História Faculdade de Ciências Sociais e Humanas, Lisboa, Portugal Introduction Portuguese faiança or faience (majolica) can be found in colonial contexts in those parts of the New World, Northern Europe, and the coastal ports of Africa and Asia, where Portuguese goods were traded. Until quite recently this ware was misinterpreted and classified as either Dutch or Italian ceramics in Europe and as the Spanish ceramic-type “Ichetucknee Blue on White” in P P 6038 the New World. Recent LA-ICP-MS (laser ablation inductively coupled plasma mass spectrometry) analyzes evidence that some of these ceramics were produced in Portugal (Casimiro et al. forthcoming). The lack of publications concerning Portuguese ceramics published in other languages rather than Portuguese delayed for many years the correct identification of Portuguese faience (Casimiro 2011a). There were two types of production in postMedieval times. Between the 1550s and the late 1700s, it was produced in workshops. Starting in the 1760s, it began to be produced in factories. This entry focuses exclusively on faience, made in workshops in three different production centers: Lisbon, Coimbra, and Vila Nova (Fig. 1). Definition Portuguese faience is a soft-bodied, light buffor pinkish-paste earthenware covered with a tinbased, lead glaze and normally decorated painted in blue or in blue and an additional color. Key Issues/Current Debates/Examples Shapes and Function Form variation is limited for Portuguese faience from the sixteenth to late eighteenth century. The variability was essentially in the decoration. Plates and bowls are clearly the most common shape, followed by bottles. Faience objects would serve fundamentally at the table, for personal hygiene, and in pharmacies, plates and bowls being the most abundant. In the second half of the seventeenth century, archaeological records show that many vessels with the same decoration appear together, sometimes as complete table sets. Bowls, plates, and platters exhibit similar decorations and were certainly used together at the table during meals. However, there are certain vessels that due to its physic and decorative attributes were not designed for their use in daily activities but as household ornaments. The objects found abroad, especially in Northern Europe or in English Portuguese Faience and Historical Archaeology colonies are always of a finer quality and would certainly serve display purposes. The 1572 potters’ regulations register the production of many forms such as cylindrical pharmacy jars, plates of diverse sizes, pots, and jars. Other shapes, not mentioned in the document, are however known such as plates, bowls, tureens, tea pots, chargers, basins, pots, jars, bottles, boxes, lids, handled bowls, cups, chamber pots, holy water stoups, barbers bowls, spice containers, pitchers, aquamaniles, inkstands, figurines, funnels, candlesticks, and pharmacy pots discovered in archaeological contexts (Casimiro 2011a: 129). Decorative Grammar One of the most important characteristics of Portuguese faience is its decoration, reflecting the consumer tastes in Portuguese and European societies. Although some decorations and decorative techniques can be considered to be exclusive to each production center, in general, all three tended to use the same designs. Foreign influences, especially from Spain and Italy, can be seen from the beginning. The first faiences were clearly an imitation of Sevillian majolicas, especially the plain white plates and carinated bowls known as Columbia Plain. This imitation was so good that until quite recently the Portuguese products had been identified as Spanish (Barbosa et al. 2008). Decorative influences from Spain can be seen in designs that include small spirals inside geometric panels. Italian influences came from Montelupo, Liguria, and Deruta, with the introduction of mythological images such as Venus and Fortunes presented as central plate designs. In the midseventeenth century, lace decoration started to appear. It has yet to be determined if this was a Portuguese creation or if it was inspired by the peacock feathers used to decorate Italian majolica in the late sixteenth century (Calado 2005). The most significant foreign influences came from China (Fig. 2) through Portuguese maritime trade with the Far East. Chinese porcelain occupied an important role in Portuguese domestic environments, not only in palaces and convents, Portuguese Faience and Historical Archaeology P 6039 Portuguese Faience and Historical Archaeology, Fig. 1 Map of Portugal with the places mentioned in the text Porto Vila Nova Coimbra Lisboa Evora Barreiro P N W Faro E S 0 100 km P 6040 Portuguese Faience and Historical Archaeology, Fig. 2 Portuguese faience plate found in Carrickfergus (Drawn by T. Casimiro) but also in more modest homes (e.g., Casimiro 2011b). Lisbon’s potters knew that Chinese Wanli patterns were much desired in Europe. In the 1619 Corpus Christi festival, potters in Lisbon presented faience vases in perfect imitation of Chinese porcelain (Calado 2005). It is not known exactly when Portuguese potters started to use Chinese motifs, but it is believed to have been within the last two decades of the sixteenth century (Casimiro 2011a). One of the most significant decorative patterns is the division of the plate rim into panels, each filled with chrysanthemums and fruits, such as peaches and pomegranates, typical of coeval Kraak porcelain. Around 1610, one of the most typical decorations of faience appeared: the aranho~es or “big spiders.” In Chinese porcelain, artemisia leaves, fans, gourds, sounding stones, and paper rolls were always surrounded by strings ending in tassels. These became key elements of Portuguese aranho~es, which changed their original meaning Portuguese Faience and Historical Archaeology and adapted them to a new European style. Other decorations of Chinese influence were also used, such as the beads or desenho miúdo (fine drawn) (Calado 1992). Noble and wealthy families in Portugal and in other parts of Europe frequently requested faience vessels decorated with their respective coat of arms. These particular vessels were symbols of social status both in Portugal and elsewhere. Chinese and European influences coexisted in Portuguese faience production. In addition to the display of foreign influences, faience presents decorations that were developed by Portuguese potters, such as the numerous floral designs used essentially from 1635 onwards (Fig. 3). This seems to be the case with the garlands decorating plate rims, known as “baroque strip.” Ferns and large leaves were also used to decorate faience plates and bowls up until the end of the seventeenth century (Fig. 4). Production Centers Lisbon Lisbon was the first city in Portugal where faience production started in mid-sixteenth century, with workshops in the Santos-o-Velho and Santa Catarina areas (Carmona & Santos 2005). Archaeological investigations have uncovered a half-dozen workshop sites, namely, in Rua de Buenos Aires, Largo de Santos, Largo de Jesus, Tercenas, Rua das Madres, and Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga. In 1672 there were 11 workshops in the Santos-o-Velho area (Mangucci 1996; Sebastian 2010). Lisbon’s fine-quality faience has a light buff fabric, while low-grade faience tends to have a pinkish one. In both cases, it is fairly homogenous and compact, and the number of inclusions is rather small. The thick enamel is of excellent quality, indicating a high percentage of tin oxide in the glaze. There are some examples, however, with lowquality enamels, obviously made for domestic consumption, since rarely are they found in overseas contexts. The percentage of mineral oxides used in the preparation of colors was probably a little less Portuguese Faience and Historical Archaeology 6041 P Coimbra The earliest document mentioning faience production in Coimbra dates to 1608, when Pedro Fernandes receives a letter allowing him to produce white pottery from Talavera (malga branca de Talaveira), although probably this was already in production for some years at this time (Carvalho 1921: 125). The craft was well organized in the potters’ quarter and had other ordinances besides the one indicating that no craftsmen, including potters, could open a workshop without a proper, lifetime license from the municipal council, signed by the craft’s judges (Carvalho 1921:120). In Coimbra, ceramic fabrics are pinkish or reddish, resulting from the low quality of local white clay, compelling potters to add red clays in order to strengthen fired vessels. Inclusions are very frequent with the existence of quartz and ceramic grog. The enamel presents a low percentage of tin oxide, making it thinner and less white than in Lisbon. Coimbra’s blue decoration is darker and with fewer shades than the blues of Lisbon and Vila Nova. No evidence of the use of yellow has been found in the workshop excavations, although there are some investigators who believe that the yellow used in Coimbra should be darker, almost orange (Pais et al. 2007). Vila Nova Portuguese Faience and Historical Archaeology, Fig. 3 Portuguese faience bowl found in the Low Countries (After Claeys et al. 2010) than in Coimbra or Vila Nova (discussed below) since the fired colors are lighter than in those centers. However, a vessel made in Lisbon can present different shades of blue. The first reference to a kiln in this area dates to 1605, when Cristovão Fonseca sells to Manuel Gonçalves a house and a potter’s kiln (Leão 1999). In 2000, an excavation exposed the remains of a workshop dating to the second half of the seventeenth century. They included a kiln, a dumpster, tanks, and an area to grind the clay. The pottery artifacts were essentially fragments of biscuit and finished products (Almeida et al. 2001). Vila Nova did not have nearby white-clay sources. The white clay used was bought in Lisbon (Leão 1999) and possibly from Coimbra (Sebastian 2010). The ceramic fabrics are very similar to Lisbon’s: very homogenous and hard with some natural quartz and micaceous inclusions. Light buff fabrics are the most frequent although P P 6042 Portuguese Faience and Historical Archaeology Portuguese Faience and Historical Archaeology, Fig. 4 Portuguese faience from Silves (Photo by T. Casimiro) sometimes they have a pinkish tone, probably due to the use of some red clay. The enamel is of a high quality with an elevated percentage of tin, very thick, white, and shiny. Blue decorations tend to be slightly darker than those from Lisbon and Coimbra, which may imply different ways of production or even variations in the kiln temperature. The use of yellow is not very frequent in Vila Nova productions. Although the decorations are a clear imitation of those produced in Lisbon and Coimbra, the decorative technique can be different from those centers: some vessels have a “relief” decoration. World Distribution Portuguese faience is regularly found across the world, especially in Atlantic coastal shores. This distribution cannot, however, have the same interpretation in all these places. Portuguese colonies such as Brazil, Cape Verde, Goa, or even Madeira and the Azores were considered to be an extension of Portuguese territory. In this sense, the types of pottery found in such places are similar to those found in mainland Portugal ranging from high-quality vessels used by political and religious elites to lowerquality ones used in domestic contexts (Fig. 5). This business was operated by Portuguese merchants as documented by port books. Pottery occupied just a small amount of space in the Portuguese Faience and Historical Archaeology, Fig. 5 Portuguese faience plate found in Cape Verde (Photo by T. Casimiro) ships’ cargo list. This was in fact a regular trade with several ships taking pottery around the year towards these colonies (e.g., Gomes et al. 2012). Although less frequent, the presence of Portuguese faience in Spanish colonies cannot be ignored. Portugal and Spain were united under one crown from 1580 until 1640, one of the most productive periods for Portuguese faience. The presence of such wares in places such as Florida, Portuguese Faience and Historical Archaeology the Dominican Republic, and even Argentina and Uruguay is recurrent. Considerable quantities of Portuguese faience have been found in England and in its colonies in the North Atlantic, such as Newfoundland, Massachusetts, and Maine, and further south in Virginia and Barbados (Pendery 1999; Straube 2001). At some sites it represents the second largest ceramic import after English wares (Pendery 1999). References to it as “Lisbon ware” can be found in probate inventories (Wilcoxen 1999). English planters would like to maintain a similar lifestyle to what they had in their home country. In this sense they would import every commodity which allowed the maintenance of their social status, namely, furniture, textiles, pottery, and even food (Pendery 1999; Wilcoxen 1999). Faience was not an everyday export as one can see in England, Ireland, Spain, France, Denmark, Sweden, and Germany. An interesting exception is the pottery found in the Low Countries where the presence of several merchants with Portuguese family backgrounds can in fact support such theory (Bartels 2003). Future Directions The occurrence of Portuguese faience in the world has to be considered in diverse perspectives. The evidence found in Portuguese colonies is easy to comprehend and interpret. Portuguese settlers took Portuguese faience with them continuing to use what were their daily ceramic commodities. Spanish colonies, bearing in mind their political proximity to Portugal during six decades, were also privileged in the knowledge and use of Portuguese wares, acquiring easily and transmitting the idea of European and Eastern merchandises. As for English colonies, the presence of Portuguese faience is related to the ability to acquire a high-quality good, produced in Europe, that could help European settlers to maintain a European lifestyle. Lisbon was the most preferable workshop and most archaeological samples found in overseas 6043 P contexts were in fact produced there. Nevertheless, one cannot underestimate Coimbra and Vila Nova since many plates and bowls produced in these workshops were in fact recovered in places such as Ferryland in Newfoundland and Devon in England. Even though these ceramics are present in large amounts in other countries, it is believed that these were just a complement of a larger trading system involving wine, sugar, and olive oil but where all sorts of products were traded from food stuff to clothes, furniture, and of course pottery, among many other things. Archaeometric studies are required to provide information to determine the extent of trade and consumption of Portuguese faiences in Europe, Africa, Asia, and the Americas. Cross-References ▶ Archival Research and Historical Archaeology ▶ Atlantic World: Historical Archaeology ▶ Brazil: Historical Archaeology ▶ Ceramics: Majolica in Colonial Latin America ▶ Ceramics: Scientific Analysis ▶ Chinese Porcelain: Late Ming (1366–1644) and Qing (1644–1911) Dynasties ▶ Colony of Avalon Archaeological Site ▶ Post-Medieval Archaeology (Europe) References ALMEIDA, M., M. NEVES & S. CAVACO. 2001. Uma oficina de produção de faiança em Gaia nos séculos XVII e XVIII. Itinerário da Faiança de Porto e de Gaia: 144-145. BARBOSA, T.M., T.M. CASIMIRO & R. MANAIA 2008. A late medieval household pottery group from Aveiro. Medieval Ceramics 30: 119-38. BARTELS, M. 2003. A cerâmica Portuguesa nos paı́ses baixos (1525-1650): uma análise sócio-económica baseada nos achados arqueológicos. Estudos/Património 5: 70-82. CALADO, R. 1992. Faiança Portuguesa, sua evolução até ao inı́cio do século XX. Lisboa: Correios de Portugal. - 2005. Faiança Portuguesa. Roteiro Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga. Lisboa: Instituto Português dos Museus. CARMONA, R. & C. SANTOS. 2005. Olaria da Mata da Machada. cerâmicas dos séculos XV-XVI. Barreiro: Câmara Municipal do Barreiro. P P 6044 CARVALHO, J. 1921. A Cerâmica Coimbrã no século XVI. Coimbra: Imprensa da Universidade. CASIMIRO, T.M. 2011a. Portuguese faience in England and Ireland (British Archaeological Reports International series 2301). Oxford: Archaeopress. - 2011b. Estudo do espólio de habitação setecentista em Lisboa. Arqueólogo Português 1(5): 689-726. CASIMIRO, T.M., R.V. GOMES & M.V. GOMES. Forthcoming. Portuguese faience trade and consumption across the world (16th-18th centuries), in J. Bauxeda et al. (ed.) Global pottery. First International Congress on Historical Archaeology & Archaeometry for Societies in Action. Spain: Universitat de Barcelona. CLAEYS, J., N.L. JASPERS & S. OSTKAMP. 2010. Vier eeuwen leven en sterven aan de Dokkershaven in Vlissingen (ADC-Monografie 9). Netherlands: Amersfoort. GOMES, M.V., T.M. CASIMIRO & J. GONÇALVES. 2012. Espólio do naufrágio da Ponta do Leme Velho – Ilha do Sal, Cabo Verde. Lisboa: Instituto de Arqueologia e Paleociências da Universidade Nova de Lisboa. LEÃO, M. 1999. A cerâmica em Vila Nova de Gaia. Vila Nova de Gaia: Fundação Manuel Leão. PAIS, A., A. PACHECO & J. COROADO. 2007. Cerâmica de Coimbra. Coimbra: Inapa. PENDERY, S. 1999. Portuguese tin-glazed earthenware in seventeenth century New England: a preliminary study. Historical Archaeology 33: 58-77. SEBASTIAN, L. 2010. A produção oleira de faiança em Portugal (séculos XVI-XVIII). Unpublished PhD dissertation, Universidade Nova de Lisboa. STRAUBE, B. 2001. European ceramics in the New World: the Jamestown example, in R. Hunter (ed.) Ceramics in America: 47-71. Hanover and London: University Press of New England. WILCOXEN, C. 1999. Seventeenth-century Portuguese faiança and its presence in colonial America. Northeast Historical Archaeology 28: 1-20. Further Reading ALBUQUERQUE, P.T. DE S. 2008. A faiança portuguesa: demarcador cronológico na arqueologia brasileira, in J.M. Diogo (ed.) Actas das 4as Jornadas de Cerâmica Medieval e Pós-Medieval: 221-70. Portugal: Câmara Municipal de Tondela. CALADO, R.S 1993. A porcelana chinesa como fonte de inspiração da decoração da faiança portuguesas do século XVII. Oceanos 14: 76‐83. ETCHEVARNE, C. 2003. A reciclagem da faiança em Salvador: contextos arqueológicos e tipos de reutilização. Clio 16(1): 103-18. FALK, A. 2007. Portugiesische Fayencen in Lübeck, in Archäologie der frühen Neuzeit (Mitteilungen der Deutschen Gesellschaft für Archäologie des Mittelalters und der Neuzeit 18): 93-100. Paderborn: Deutsche Gesellschaft für Archäologie des Mittelalters und der Neuzeit. FRAGA, T.M. 2008. Santo António de Tanná: story, excavation and reconstruction, in F. Vieira de Castro & Portuguese Faience and Historical Archaeology K. Custer (ed.) Edge of empire: 201-13. Portugal: Caleidoscópio – Edição e Artes Gráficas, SA. FUSCO-ZAMBETOGLIRIS, N. 2003. Un diálogo con la cerámica portuguesa de la Colonia del Sacramento. Revista de Arqueologı́a Americana 22: 43-62. GARLAKE, P.S. 1968. The value of imported ceramics in the dating and interpretation of the Rhodesian Iron Age. The Journal of African History 9(1): 13-33. GOMES, M.V. & R.V. GOMES. 2007. Escavações arqueológicas no Convento de Santana em Lisboa. Olissipo 27(2): 75-92. JASPERS, N.L. & S. OSTKAMP. 2006. Het aardewerk uit de opgraving, in P.C. de Boer (ed.) Bodemvondsten uit de Boerenhoek Enkhuizen, opgraving “De Baan” (fase 2) (ADC ArcheoProjecten Rapport 452): 21-35. Netherlands: Amersfoort. KELSO, W.M. & B. STRAUBE. (ed.) 2008. 2000-2006 Interim report on the APVA excavations at Jamestown, Virginia. Virginia: The Association for the Preservation of Virginia Antiquities, Jamestown Rediscovery. LANE, P.L. 2012. Maritime and shipwreck archaeology in the western Indian Ocean and southern Red Sea: an overview of past and current research. Journal of Maritime Archaeology 7: 9-41. MANGUCCI, A. 1996. Olarias de louça e azulejo da freguesia de Santos-o-Velho dos meados dos séculos XVI aos meados do século XVIII. Almadan: 155-68. ORSER, CH. E., JR. 2002. Portuguese colonialism, in C.E. Orser, Jr. (ed.) Encyclopedia of historical archaeology: 490-4. London and New York: Routledge. QUEIROZ, J. 1948. Cerâmica Portuguesa e outros Estudos. Lisboa: Editorial Presença. SANTOS, R. DOS. 1956. A faiança do século XVI nos primitivos Portugueses. Panorama 4: 1-8. - 1960. Faiança Portuguesa, Séculos XVI e XVII. Porto: Galaica. - 1970. Oito séculos de arte Portuguesa, História e espı́rito. Lisboa: Empresa Nacional de Publicidade. SANDÃO, A. 1965. Faiança Portuguesa dos séculos XVIII e XIX. Lisboa: Civilização. SASSOON, A. 1981. Ceramics from the wreck of a Portuguese ship at Mombasa. Azania 16: 98-130. - 1991. The Portuguese fayence. Institute for Nautical Archaeology Newsletter 18(2): 22-4. SCHAVELZON, D. 2001. Catálogo de cerámicas históricas de Buenos Aires (siglos XVI-XX). Buenos Aires, Argentina: Fundación para la Investigación del arte argentino/Telefónica/FADU. Available at: https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B94K_VGTFmtzNzc1N GI1N2MtNzQ5MS00ZDViLWI5MGYtZjAxYzU3OD A2ZmFl/edit?hl¼es&pli¼1 (accessed 10 October 2012). STODDART, E. 2000. Seventeenth-century tin-glazed earthenware from Ferryland, Newfoundland. Unpublished Master’s dissertation, Memorial University of Ferryland. ZORZI, F. 2011. Mayólica Colonial en Buenos Aires. Trayectoria social de un conjunto cerámico de los siglos XVII y XVIII. Unpublished BA dissertation, Universidad de Buenos Aires, Argentina. Portuguese Redwares and Coarse Wares in Historical Archaeology Portuguese Redwares and Coarse Wares in Historical Archaeology Tânia Manuel Casimiro Instituto de Arqueologia e Paleociências da Universidade Nova de Lisboa, Departamento de História Faculdade de Ciências Sociais e Humanas, Lisbon, Portugal Introduction Portuguese coarse wares (cerâmica comum) were the daily ceramic objects used in Portuguese households in medieval and postmedieval times (thirteenth to nineteenth century). It is an unfortunate, nonspecific term that does not take into account regional production differences or the differences between the very fine, thin-walled cups and the rough cooking pots (Fig. 1). Definition The term refers to ceramic objects produced with brown, black, red, and orange fabrics tempered with quartz and micaceous inclusions. The types of surface treatment include simple smoothing with a wet cloth, burnishing, and coating with a clay slip. Although coarse wares appear in many different colors, redwares were the most common. All were wheel-thrown. Closed vessels show regular and deep potter’s finger marks on their interior surface. Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples The Search for a Name: International Discussion Portuguese coarse wares have been recovered in many countries and former colonies although, until recently, they were given other names by non-Portuguese archaeologists. The most famous designation was Merida-type ware, assigned by 6045 P John Hurst in the 1960s thinking that this was, in fact, a Spanish product that maintained the Roman tradition of the sigillatas from the Merida region. Hurst recognized his error some years later (Hurst et al. 1986), but by then the name had already been adopted in English archaeological literature. Portuguese ceramics were first identified outside Portugal in 1854 when in England reference was made to cerâmica empedrada, or stone inlaid pottery, from the Estremoz region (Hurst 2000: 24). For many years, it was considered to be made exclusively in High Alentejo, Estremoz, where there was an important postmedieval production center. However, it is now evident from the finds being made outside Portugal that they were not exclusively manufactured in that area. Production was certainly more widespread (see Martin 1979: 291). Alexandra Gutierrez (2007) was the first to define the Merida-type ware as “Portuguese coarse ware” as a result of studying hundreds of shards found in a single site in Southampton, England. Gutierrez was unable to establish secure production centers, but today the vessel shapes presented in the study indicate Lisbon, Aveiro, and possibly Coimbra as three very likely production areas. In 2008, Sarah Newstead also used the same designation when studying large amounts of Portuguese coarse wares found in Newfoundland, which were also made in different areas of Portugal. However, other names have been given to these wares. Ian Baart (1992) published some Low Countries finds as sigillata from Estremoz, although in this designation he included not only burnished ceramics but also fairly common wares sometimes decorated with embedded small white quartz and feldspar stones (Fig. 2). Examples of Portuguese coarse ware have been found in New World colonies where it is called feldspar-inlaid redware and orange micaceous ware (Deagan 1987: 40-41), although micaceous pottery was also native to the New World. The variety of Portuguese productions was such that coarse wares once found outside P P 6046 Portuguese Redwares and Coarse Wares in Historical Archaeology Portuguese Redwares and Coarse Wares in Historical Archaeology, Fig. 1 Map of Portugal with the places mentioned in the text Porto Aveiro Tondela Coimbra Lisboa Estremoz Barreiro Montemor-o-Novo N W E Silves S 0 100 km Portuguese Redwares and Coarse Wares in Historical Archaeology 6047 P Portuguese Redwares and Coarse Wares in Historical Archaeology, Fig. 2 Pot with small quartz-stone decoration found in Azenha de Santa Cruz, Torres Vedras by G. Cardoso and I. Luna. (A) 50 cm (Photo by G. Cardoso) P Portugal were called by very different names. In this sense, what has been designated so differently in English literature was mainly produced in Lisbon, Coimbra, Aveiro, Porto, Estremoz, Lagos, and possible other Algarve cities such as Silves. Portuguese Redwares and Coarse Wares in Historical Archaeology, Fig. 3 Cooking pots found in Rua Homem de Cristo Filho, Aveiro (After Barbosa et al. 2008: 127) Shapes and Function Portuguese coarse wares appear in many shapes for daily household activities, for industrial processes, and for commercial activities. Domestic vessel forms include cooking pots (panelas, frigideiras, caçoilas), often with their respective lids (tampas, testos); cups (púcaros); plates and bowls (pratos, taças); bottles and jars (garrafas, jarros); costrels (cântaros, cantis); large flared dishes (alguidares); funnels; chamber pots; and chafing dishes. For industrial use, there were sugar cones (formas de açúcar) and syrup pots. For commercial use, there were olive jars (anforetas). Cooking pots used to boil, fry, or stew occur in various sizes that present globular or hemispherical shapes with convex bases, everted plain rims, and horizontal, vertical, or even triangular handles (Fig. 3). The countersunk lids with knob handles are frequent and easily recognizable finds. Thin-walled cups (púcaros) with burnished exteriors, sometimes decorated with vertical P 6048 Portuguese Redwares and Coarse Wares in Historical Archaeology Portuguese Redwares and Coarse Wares in Historical Archaeology, Fig. 4 Púcaros and Chinese porcelain dishes found in Convento de Santana, Lisboa (After Gomes & Gomes 2007: 85) lines, finger impressions, and appliqué are some of the most recognizable Portuguese coarse wear products (Fig. 4). Bowls vary in shape: hemispherical, convex, or slightly carinated. They can have a concave, recessed base or a foot ring. On the exterior wall just below the plain everted rim, there may be a decoration of incised lines (Fig. 5). Flared-rim plates, with the same types of bases as bowls, usually have a burnished interior. Jars and bottles, used to store and serve liquids such as water, wine, and olive oil, have narrow flat bases and straight necks terminating in a multiplicity of rim forms. Rilled, tall-neck, globular costrels served as water containers and are also frequent finds in archaeological excavations. Large, flared bowls with everted or plain rims served a variety of functions from food preparation to laundry and dish washing. Their diameters range from 30 to 80 cm. Most are burnished but some examples present an interior yellow and green lead glaze. These might have been expensive items since evidence of repairs when broken is frequent. Funnels, with a wide round top and a narrow tube coming out at the bottom, were used for pouring liquids into containers. Though extremely functional, it is not a common artifact in Portuguese archaeological sites. Chamber pots were fundamental objects in every fifteenth- and sixteenth-century house and are usually recovered in every domestic site, though their frequency increases in later chronologies. Characterized by their flat bases, tall cylindrical bodies, everted rims, and usually large flat or concave handles, they can be found glazed or unglazed. Chafing dishes were used in association with cooking pots to heat and cook food. Their sizes are as variable as those of cooking pots. Sugar cones and syrup pots were used by the industry and are frequently found across Portugal but especially in the areas around Lisbon and Aveiro where these were produced for local consumption and to the cclones for export. International literature has often classified olive jars as exclusively Spanish products. Nevertheless, nowadays it has been established that these were made in other countries such as Portugal and some New World settlements. Although earlier vessels usually presented a flat bottom, a narrow neck, and two small handles, from the mid-sixteenth century onward, the shape is rather similar to Spanish olive jars, but the paste is definitely Portuguese. Although diverse shapes are known, Portuguese workshops tended to produce similar objects, and one can find straight similarities Portuguese Redwares and Coarse Wares in Historical Archaeology Portuguese Redwares and Coarse Wares in Historical Archaeology, Fig. 5 Bowls found in Rua Homem de Christo Filho, Aveiro (After Barbosa et al. 2008: 124) between Algarve, Lisbon, or Aveiro productions and sometimes for long periods of time. Production Centers Coarse wares were made in almost every city in Portugal. Kilns are not frequent finds in archaeological excavations, and only about half-dozen have been identified in postmedieval contexts. Nevertheless, large ceramic assemblages have been found in major cities, which in some cases, especially where written evidence (such as charters, wills, and price lists) is available, almost certainly point to the existence of potters and production sites (Fernandes 1999). 6049 P In 1980, a rectangular kiln, dating from the mid-sixteenth century, was found in Mata da Machada (Barreiro). Although many types of pottery were found at the site, from coarse wares to lead- and tin-glazed ceramics, the coarse-ware evidence indicates the production of sugar cones, and several domestic shapes such as cooking pots, cups, plates, bottles, and others, and also small vessels decorated with inlaid quartz stones, a decorative style thought for many years to be exclusive to the Estremoz area. News of kiln sites in Lisbon is not rare but no evidence of a postmedieval kiln has been published. Nevertheless, Lisbon must have been one of the largest production centers in Portugal, producing for local consumption and for export. In 1552, for example, there were about 60 kilns producing redwares (louça vermelha), mostly in the medieval potter’s quarter (Casimiro 2011b) (Fig. 6). No kiln has been found in Estremoz. Nevertheless, ceramic products from that area were famous in the early modern era among rich and poor, and written evidence confirms this. In the 1610 book Descrição de Portugal, Duarte Nunes de Leão mentions that fine and thin Estremoz cups were appreciated across the entire kingdom. This author also refers to similar products in Lisbon, Pombal, and Montemor-o-Novo. In this last site, there was a special type of production. The fabric was full of very small, white, quartz stones. Examples have been identified in Amsterdam and London. Once, during a dinner, King Sebastião drank from an Estremoz cup, while all the guests used silver and gold vessels, claiming that he enjoyed its “earthen” taste, and several members of the Iberian royal family appreciated these cups (Vasconcellos 1921: 32). Moreover, in 1687 two ships set sail from Lisbon to England, and among the diverse cargo there were two boxes of Estremoz pottery (Casimiro 2011a: 181). The Estremoz’ kilns produced mostly cups, bottles, jars, and bowls with burnished surfaces and stamped or small, white, inlaid quartz-stone decorations. One of the most important northern production centers was Aveiro. No kiln has been found P P 6050 Portuguese Redwares and Coarse Wares in Historical Archaeology Portuguese Redwares and Coarse Wares in Historical Archaeology, Fig. 6 Púcaros with modeled decoration found in Convento de Santana, Lisboa (After Gomes & Gomes 2007: 85) there, but several terrestrial and underwater archaeological excavations have revealed a rich production area. The coarse-ware vessels present orange micaceous fabrics and often burnished decoration with vertical lines. One of the most important excavations is that of the shipwreck Aveiro A, where an immense pottery cargo was recovered giving an idea of the type of shapes produced and their similarity to many finds made inside the city walls (Alves et al. 1995; Bettencourt & Carvalho 2008; Barbosa et al. 2008). Many other towns in Portugal produced pottery, for example, Coimbra, Palmela, Porto, and Lagos. One specific type of Portuguese coarse ware is the so-called black pottery (cerâmica negra), traditionally made in the northern part of the country in centers such as Tondela or Bisalhães, among others. It does not seem to have had an important international distribution. Only two vessels are known abroad, in London and Amsterdam, two cities that had commercial relations with Portugal. A kiln found in Silves (Algarve) in 2002 revealed the production of thin-walled cups, believed for many years to be exclusive to production sites in the center of the country, and other less-fine vessels (Gomes 2008) that tend to give insight into the difference between kitchenware and tableware. World Distribution Portuguese coarse wares, with a variety of shapes and decorations, from simple vessels to richly decorated ones, have been found in many countries around the world: England, Ireland, Scotland, the Low Countries, Denmark, Iceland, Germany, Canada, the USA, Brazil, and several African locations (e.g., Hurst et al. 1986; Baart 1992; Orser 2002; Gutierrez 2007). It is believed that these vessels reached their destinations with two purposes: as household wares and as shipping containers for Portuguese produce. Portuguese ship registers reveal the export of many types of household coarse ware pottery, as can been seen in the lists of goods leaving Porto and sailing to England, Newfoundland, New England, Brazil, and Africa, carrying Estremoz, Aveiro, and even Northern pottery (Barbosa et al. 2008: 134). The evidence of containers for the shipment of Portuguese commodities such as olive oil, olives, sweets, marmalade, and other items can also be seen in ship registers (Casimiro 2011a: 184). It is not easy to infer from these documents the major production center for exported Portuguese ceramics, but the archaeological evidence outside the country suggests Lisbon, Coimbra, Aveiro, and Estremoz as four of the major production areas. Portuguese coarse wares due to their color, micaceous aspect, shape, and decoration are a recognizable product in European, African, and New World settlements. This is confirmed, in part, in paintings by Portuguese and European artists such as Josefa de Óbidos, Velasquez, Frans Francken, among many others, in which Portuguese coarse wares appear (Vasconcellos 1921: 13). It was on everyone’s table in Portugal, used by rich and poor, as shown by written evidence. Portuguese Redwares and Coarse Wares in Historical Archaeology It was available in foreign countries and far away colonies as indicated by the archaeological evidence. Cross-References ▶ Archival Research and Historical Archaeology ▶ Atlantic World: Historical Archaeology ▶ Brazil: Historical Archaeology ▶ Ceramics: Scientific Analysis ▶ Colony of Avalon Archaeological Site ▶ Deagan, Kathleen A. ▶ Historic Jamestowne ▶ Post-Medieval Archaeology (Europe) 6051 P GUTIÉRREZ, A. 2007. Portuguese coarsewares in early modern England: reflections on an exceptional pottery assemblage from Southampton. Post Medieval Archaeology 41: 64-79. HURST, J. 2000. Imported ceramic studies in Britain. Medieval Ceramics 24: 23-30. HURST, J.G., D. NEAL & H.J.E. VAN BEUNINGEN. 1986. Pottery produced and traded in north-west Europe 1350-1650. Rotterdam: Foundations ‘Dutch Domestic Utensils’: Museum Boymans. MARTIN, C. 1979. Spanish Armada pottery. The International Journal of Nautical Archaeology and Underwater Exploration 8: 279-302. NEWSTEAD, S. 2008. Merida no more: Portuguese redware in Newfoundland. Unpublished Master’s dissertation, Memorial University, Newfoundland. ORSER, CHARLES E., JR. 2002. Portuguese colonialism, in C.E. Orser, Jr. (ed.) Encyclopedia of historical archaeology: 490-494. London and New York: Routledge. VASCONCELLOS, C. 1921. Algumas palavras a respeito dos púcaros de Portugal. Coimbra: Impressa da Universidade. References Further Reading ALVES, F., P. PAULO, C. GARCIA, C. & M. ALELUIA. 1995. A Cerâmica dos destroços do navio dos meados do século XV Ria de Aveiro A e da zona da Ria de Aveiro B. Aproximação tipológica preliminar, in Actas das 2as Jornadas de Cerâmica Medieval e Pós-Medieval : 185-210. Tondela: Câmara Municipal de Tondela. BAART, J. 1992. Terra Sigilatta from Estremoz, Portugal, in D. Gaimster & M. Redknap (ed.) Everyday and exotic pottery from Europe, c. 650-1900. Studies in honor of John G. Hurst: 273-8. Exeter: Oxbow Books. BARBOSA, T.M., T.M. CASIMIRO & R. MANAIA. 2008. A late medieval household pottery group from Aveiro. Medieval Ceramics 30: 119-38. BETTENCOURT, J. & P. CARVALHO. 2008. The cargo of the ship Ria de Aveiro A (Ílhavo, Portugal): a preliminary approach to its historical-cultural significance. Cuadernos de Estudios Borjanos L-LI: 257-90. CASIMIRO, T.M. 2011a. Portuguese faience in England and Ireland (British Archaeological Reports International series 2301). Oxford: Archaeopress. - 2011b. Estudo do espólio de habitação setecentista em Lisboa. Arqueólogo Português 1: 689-726. DEAGAN, K. 1987. Artifacts of the Spanish colonies of Florida and the Caribbean, 1500-1800, Volume I: ceramics, glassware and beads. Washington (DC): Smithsonian Institution Press. FERNANDES, I. 1999. Do uso das peças: diversa utilização da louça de barro, in Actas do IV Encontro de Olaria Tradicional de Matosinhos. 12-39. Matosinhos: Câmara Municipal de Matosinhos. GOMES, M.V. 2008. Dois fornos de cerâmica de Silves (Secs XVI-XVII) – Notı́cia preliminar, in Actas das 4as Jornadas de Cerâmica Medieval e Pós-Medieval, Métodos e Resultados para o seu Estudo: 271-292. Tondela: Câmara Municipal de Tondela. ASHDOWN, J. 1972. Mewstone Ledge Site B. oil jars. International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 1: 147-53. BELTRÁN DE HEREDIA BERCERO, J. & N. MIRÓ I ALAIX. 2010. El comerç de ceràmica a Barcelona als segles xvi-xvii: Itàlia, França, Portugal, els tallers del Rin i Xina. Quarhis 6: 14-91. ETCHEVARNE, C. 2006. Aspectos da cerâmica colonial do século XVII, em Salvador, Bahia. Clio Arqueológica 20: 53-79. GAULTON, B. & C. MATHIAS. 1998. Portuguese Terra Sigillata earthenware discovered at the 17th-century colonial site in Ferryland, Newfoundland. Avalon Chronicles 3: 1-17. GOMES, M. & R. GOMEZ. 2007. Escavações arqueológicas no Convento de Santana, em Lisboa – Resultados preliminares. Olisipo 2(27): 75-92. GUTIÉRREZ, A. 2000. Mediterranean pottery in Wessex households (13th to 17th centuries). (British Archaeological Reports British series 306). Oxford: Archaeopress. GUTIÉRREZ, A., D. WILLIAMS & M.J. HUGHES. 2003. A shipwreck cargo of Sevillian pottery from the Studland Bay wreck, Dorset, UK. International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 32: 24–41. KELSO, W.M. & B. STRAUBE. (ed.) 2008. 2000-2006 Interim report on the APVA excavations at Jamestown, Virginia. Virginia: The Association for the Preservation of Virginia Antiquities, Jamestown Rediscovery. KIRKMAN, J. 1974. Fort Jesus: a Portuguese fortress on the East African coast. Oxford: Clarendon Press. MARKEN, M.W. 1994. Pottery from Spanish shipwrecks, 1500-1800. Gainesville (FL): University Press of Florida. MEHLER, N. 2004. Die mittelalterliche Importkeramik Islands, in G. Guðmundsson (ed.) Current issues in Nordic archaeology. Proceedings of the 21st P P 6052 Conference of Nordic Archaeologists, 6.-9. September 2001, Akureyri, Iceland: 167-170. Reykjavik: Society of Icelandic Archaeologists. PARVAUX, S. 1968. La céramique populaire du Haut Alentejo. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. RODRÍGUEZ AGUILERA, A. 2000 Excavación arqueológica en el Carmen de la Concepción (Albaicı́n, Granada). Datos para una polémica. Arqueologı́a y Territorio Medieval 7: 137-56. RODRÍGUEZ SANTAMARÍA, A. & A. MORALEDA OLIVARES. 1997. La cerámica bucarina en Talavera de la Reina (s. XVI-XVII). Revista de estudios humanı́sticos de Talavera y su antigua tierra 5: 21-35. ROVIRA, B. & F. GAITÁN. 2010. Los búcaros. De las Indias para el mundo. Canto Rodado 5: 39-78. SCHAVELZON, D. 2001. Catálogo de cerámicas históricas de Buenos Aires (siglos XVI-XX). Buenos Aires, Argentina: Fundación para la Investigación del arte argentino/ Telefónica/FADU. Available at: https://docs.google. com/file/d/0B94K_VGTFmtzNzc1NGI1N2MtNzQ5MS 00ZDViLWI5MGYtZjAxYzU3ODA2ZmFl/edit?hl¼ es&pli¼1 (accessed 10 October 2012). SOUSA, E. 2006. A Cerâmica do Açúcar das cidades de Machico e do Funchal. Dados Históricos e Arqueológicos para a Investigação da Tecnologia e Produção do Açúcar em Portugal, in E. Sousa (ed.) A Cerâmica do Açúcar em Portugal na E´poca Moderna: 10-31. Lisboa/Machico: Centro de Estudos de Arqueologia Moderna e Contemporânea. VEECKMAN, J. 1994. Iberian unglazed pottery from Antwerp (Belgium). Medieval Ceramics 18: 9-18. Posnansky, Merrick Jonathan R. Walz Department of Anthropology and Archaeology Program, Rollins College, Winter Park, FL, USA Basic Biographical Information Merrick Posnansky’s impacts on archaeology are numerous and enduring. His holistic, pragmatic, and inclusive initiatives helped to foster archaeology in Africa (Posnansky 1966a, b, 1969a; Posnansky & DeCorse 1986) and in the Caribbean (Posnansky 1984). Posnansky’s approaches to archaeology “prefigured the thrust of many postprocessual analyses of the 1980s and 1990s” (DeCorse 2004: 4). Since the late colonial era, Posnansky worked to enable university archaeology programs and to treat and reorient museums in Posnansky, Merrick Africa, making them living institutions with a mandate to serve the public. Posnansky’s professional contributions in 11 countries have been recognized with numerous accolades, including the J.C. Harrington Medal in Historical Archaeology from the Society of Historical Archaeology. He is a Fellow or Honorary Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries in London, the British Institute in Eastern Africa, and Rotary International. Born in Bolton, England, in 1931, Posnansky grew up in a small Jewish community during the interwar era. As a young man, he developed an interest in ancient coins. At age 18, Posnansky won an Open Scholarship to attend the University of Nottingham. After graduating, he completed a Diploma Course in Prehistoric Archaeology at Cambridge University. And, in 1956, Posnansky earned a Ph.D. in History from the University of Nottingham, under the supervision of the distinguished geologist H.H. Swinnerton. During his training and early in his career, Posnansky excavated prehistoric and medieval period sites in England, Wales, and France with archaeologists of renown, including Glynn Daniel and André Leroi-Gourhan. In 1956, Posnansky accepted an offer by Louis Leakey to work as the Warden of Prehistoric Sites in the Royal National Parks of Kenya. Since the late 1950s, Posnansky’s work focused on African archaeology, museums, and heritage education. After two years in Kenya, he transitioned to Kampala as Curator of the Uganda Museum and Head of Uganda’s Department of Antiquities. In 1959, he was the first archaeologist in sub-Saharan Africa to take African university students on excavations. After a period as Assistant Director of the British Institute in Eastern Africa, Posnansky joined Makerere University College then affiliated with the University of London. In 1962, he taught the first university classes in African archaeology. A founding figure in historical archaeology, Posnansky integrated oral traditions into interpretations of Bweyorere and Bigo, ancient capital sites in Uganda (Posnansky 1966a, 1969b). In 1967, he and his wife, Eunice, left Uganda, fleeing the political turmoil caused by Idi Amin. At his next job post as Professor of Archaeology at the University of Postcolonial Archaeologies Legon in Ghana, Posnansky developed the first full academic program (B.A. to Ph.D.) in African Archaeology. He further launched an ethnoarchaeological study of a historical village in Ghana (Posnansky 2004) and completed numerous museum and cultural heritage projects in West Africa. In 1977, Posnansky joined the History Department at UCLA. He subsequently served as Chair of the Archaeology Program and Director of UCLA’s Center for African Studies, the latter for 13 years. While at UCLA, his research expanded to Togo, Benin, and the Caribbean. Posnansky is a founding figure in African diaspora archaeology (Posnansky 1984). 6053 P References DECORSE, C.R. 2004. J.C. Harrington medal in historical archaeology: Merrick Posnansky, 2003. Historical Archaeology 38: 1-6. POSNANSKY, M. 1966a. Kinship, archaeology, and historical myth. Uganda Journal 30: 1-12. - 1969a. Myth and methodology: the archaeological contribution to African history. Accra, Ghana: Ghana Universities Press. - 1969b. Bigo bya Mugenyi. Uganda Journal 33: 125-50. - 1984. Toward an archaeology of the Black Diaspora. Journal of Black Studies 15: 195-205. - 2004. Processes of change: a longitudinal ethnoarchaeological study of a Ghanaian village, Hani, 1970-98. African Archaeological Review 21: 31-47. POSNANSKY, M. (ed.) 1966b. Prelude to east African history. London: Oxford University Press. POSNANKSY, M. & C.R. DECORSE. 1986. Historical archaeology in sub-Saharan Africa: a review. Historical Archaeology 20: 1-14. Major Accomplishments Further Reading Posnansky’s publications on urbanization, trade, oral traditions, art, museums, and education in Africa helped to reshape informed representations of Africans. His devotion to building culture histories where none previously existed; attending closely to cultural context; recognizing, valuing, and valorizing oral traditions; and applying multiple sources to solve scholarly questions mark Posnansky as visionary. In his capacities as a curator and administrator, Posnansky developed archaeology programs at universities and trained African and American archaeologists. Professor Posnansky retired from UCLA in 1998 but remains active in the archaeology community, as he continues to write about and promote Africa, Africans, and their pasts. Cross-References ▶ African Diaspora Archaeology ▶ East Africa: Museums ▶ Field Schools, Archaeological ▶ Historical Archaeology ▶ Leakey Family ▶ Oral Sources and Oral History ▶ West and Central Africa: Historical Archaeology POSNANSKY, M. 2009. Africa and archaeology: empowering an expatriate life. London: Radcliffe. WALZ, J.R. 2010. An interview with Merrick Posnansky. African Archaeological Review 27: 177-210. Postcolonial Archaeologies O. Hugo Benavides Fordham University, Bronx, NY, USA Cruso raised his head and cast me a look full of defiance. “I will leave behind my terrace and walls,” he said. “The will be enough. They will be more than enough.” And he fell silent again. As for myself I wondered who would cross the ocean to see terraces and walls, of which we surely had an abundance at home; but I held my peace (Coetzee 1986). Introduction and Definition The past is never dead. It’s not even past. (William Faulkner, Requiem for a Nun) Since the 1960s, closely linked to the struggles of national liberation, anticolonialism, civil rights, and student uprisings, there has been a growing P P 6054 concern with the politics of domination in the West’s liberal project of academic and intellectual production (Foucault 1980). Specifically in anthropology, and archaeology, this was marked by the presence of (so-called) natives in the subject-production of the discipline, natives which until then had been completely excluded from this noble enterprise other than as objects (and not subjects, creators) of knowledge. This particular political process highlights anthropology’s origin as a colonial enterprise. In varied manners, the disciplines of anthropology and archaeology are still essentially invested in reproducing global knowledge in ways that structure us and others. In the process, such reproduction of global knowledge reconstitutes the West as the arbiter of world knowledge (Baldwin 1984). The postcolonial enterprise marked less the inclusion of natives as the recognition of the central role that these marginalized groups (and identifications) had already played in the excavation (both literally and intellectually) of the past. This postcolonial reconfiguration had differing embodiments throughout the globe, from a politically combative Archaeology as social science tradition in Latin America, the political power of original populations communities from Polynesia to the Americas, and even the creation of the World Archaeological Congress to better represent archaeology as a real global endeavor. Historical Background One of the biggest impacts in the development of postcolonial archaeologies is the successful struggle of large indigenous communities throughout the world. Indigenous peoples of many nation-states have reached a new level of political discourse that demanded a shift in the conceptualization of traditional Indian identity, offering a more autocritical definition of themselves (Varese & Kearney 1995). This trend is related to the globalization processes affecting the world in general, particularly what Escobar (1995) has called the post-developmental phase of history. Post-development economies are Postcolonial Archaeologies based on flexible manufacturing and service industries organized on a global scale to take advantage of the most competitive source of supplies labor and market. Not surprisingly, workers in these economies receive low wages, no benefits, and no job security, all factors which contribute to an increasing informal economy. One of the key components of these economies is transnational corporations that make of the international arena their economic playground. They expand the multinational corporation’s role to retrieve raw materials and labor from third-world nations, reaching into the least unexplored regions of the world. It was precisely these marginalized regions to which the indigenous populations had been pushed into during the initial development period of the 1950s and 1960s. This new transnational influx into regions, such as the tropical forests of the Amazon, as well as those in Asia and Africa, has made many indigenous groups into a type of “development refugees.” Faced with no alternative areas into which to retreat, indigenous group have been more willing than ever to go on the offensive and assert their rights. Transnational corporations are highly influential in modern economies, but they are not the only transnational characteristics present. For instance, many indigenous populations do not live in a single nation-state, but rather occupy regions that crosscut two or more countries. The globalization process and the new forms of postmodern capitalism have also produced a longterm migration of indigenous people into urban centers of both their native countries or major industrialized nations like the USA and Europe (e.g., there are large-scale migration of indigenous populations from Mexico living in the United States today). The fact that today indigenous communities’ main antagonist are transnational forces, outside of the control of national governments, has forced many indigenous groups to work with transnational sectors from the first world as well. All of these globalization processes, such as flexible capital, increase of informal economy, transnational corporations, and the Postcolonial Archaeologies internationalization of social movements, have contributed to the reworking of indigenous identities that go beyond any previous traditional or strictly modern categorization. Varese and Kearney (1995: 219) point out that Indian communities who were formerly marginalized are now actively engaged in establishing a transnational civil society in an effort to bypass state mediation and to situate themselves in a global civil society while maintaining strong ethnic, cultural, and local loyalties that contest their own nation-state authority and hegemony. In archaeology, this native conundrum was marked by a significant paradigmatic shift, away from the (now) traditional postulates of the new archaeology and towards a more relative understanding of the study of the past marked by a post-processual archaeology. As a postmodern enterprise, post-processual archaeology was an umbrella term that marked a host of interests, endeavors, and claims that differ significantly but still vehemently share a more complex understanding of the past than its positivistic ancestors. In this manner, archaeology, as part of the Western academy, had made way for numerous groups of third-world scholars that no longer could be kept to the margins of intellectual production and many times marked the pace of new Western fields of knowledge (e.g., Said 1989; Spivak 1999). This allowed for many to enunciate the postcolonial project as that of the simplistic inclusion of “native” scholars to the Western enterprise of archaeological research. Although more inclusive than its previous Western embodiments, this project of inclusion fails in quite an essential manner. This cultural undertaking elided the greater paradigmatic implication that it was less about opening spaces to native scholars in as much as the fact that these (supposedly) non-Western scholars had already erupted in a central manner into the scene. Perhaps more importantly, it further overlooked the fact that natives had always played a fundamental role in the production of the world’s past, not only as creators of the archaeological sites and making up most of the crews that excavated any of the 6055 P sites, but also that even in these reified Western territories, the past had always been about natives, elusive natives, that were erased from the intellectual landscape as fast as they were hailed at conferences, international exhibitions, and museums. Key Issues/Current Debates But no doubt, one of the more complex findings of postcolonial archaeologies was that the postcolonial project meant recognizing that the colonizer’s past is also always that of the colonized, and vice versa. The intellectual commitment of postcolonial archaeologies is, therefore, not only about, literally, excavating a buried past of one oppressed group or community but rather to understand how that past, buried and later reconfigured, is an essential part of everybody’s past and history. It is this particular kind of political commitment of third-world archaeologists and the uprising of native communities (and/or original population) all over the world that marked two very different postcolonial ways of connecting to the past, while still highlighting archaeology’s essential political enterprise. At a very basic intellectual level, these postcolonial approaches marked an opening to reidentify the archaeological landscape in the continent with markers of gender, sexuality, race, and class in ways that had not been possible before (Silverblatt 1987; Trexler 1995; de la Cadena 2000). But this new way of envisioning the past also manifested a renewed interest in colonial archaeology, again, not just for the reproduction of a European other but rather as a detailed study of the hybrid consolidation of the different original nation-states (Hall 1987). This development of historical archaeology highlighted another area of postcolonial focus, the indivisible fusion of native and other, European, Arabs, and Africans (among many other groups), in the reproduction of new populations. This particular historical archaeology approach marks one of the, or even perhaps the, most interesting areas of contemporary research, one of ideological discursive practice. P P 6056 As mentioned above, the postcolonial archaeological project was not content with merely including natives into the research enterprise, recognizing the political commitment of archaeological discourse, or even the political emancipation of historically oppressed racialized groups but rather the recognition how all of these elements are caught within the web of our own global historical production. That is, we are historical subjects in the making that are fed by continuous discursive practices about the past that can never fully escape our ideological repositioning. In this manner, one of the greater contributions of a postcolonial enterprise is to actively shy away from images of wellintentioned natives or native-saving agents and rather to recognize the global (neocolonial) landscape in which we all work and live in. In the archaeological landscape, this postcolonial tradition was marked by new journals and publications that looked to reconfigure the manner of reproducing archaeological knowledge no longer as a nostalgic look to the north but one embodied with complete agency from the south (see Van Broekhoven et al. 2010). This same ideal is behind cultural projects at many archaeological sites that are interested in furthering interdisciplinary research by incorporating the native other. And yet, these archaeological projects have attempted to be necessarily aware that even these new postcolonial conundrums could not fully escape the historical conditions of our times, a history not of our making but ours nonetheless. And rather that these new re-foundational shifts about the other are necessarily responding to a global market that looks to reify difference as the essential cultural commodity of the twentyfirst century (Hall 1987). Unlike previous schemes of global domination, the transnational forces at work today are less about eradicating difference (at least no longer in explicit genocidal fashions) but rather about transnational capital essentializing cultural difference as a mechanism of maintaining similar forms of racial differentiation and hierarchies. In the archaeological landscape, this development imperative (to support and funds natives Postcolonial Archaeologies throughout the world) has quite complicated configurations. In this regard, postcolonial archaeologists have to not only seriously contend with transnational forces (e.g., oil, NGOs, transnational companies) that weigh in multiple ways upon their understanding of the past but also quite uniquely understand themselves as a social and political embodiments of these greater global forces at work. International Perspectives In Latin America, the postcolonial configuration meant the powerful commitment to an explicit political identification with the archaeologist’s role of researching the past was no longer contained within an academic heading but rather marked a direct manner to connect to the Indian and colonial legacy of the American continent’s history. Excavating the Latin American past was directly connected to challenging the neocolonial conditions of the present. In that sense, one now excavates one’s own past, a past that had been dutifully denied and repressed by the Westerninspired national governments and the “objective” national histories of each of nation-state (see Lumbreras 1981; Vargas 1990). As an example of a postcolonial archaeology, there are two initial factors on which this Latin American social archaeology approach is based: the first is the strong social and political commitment that an archaeologist, as a social scientist, feels towards the community; the second factor is the historical materialist paradigm that many archaeologists embrace as a tool to analyze and understand history (Bate 1977, 1978). These two factors enable the social archaeologists to reconstruct history and see its continuity and value in contemporary society. This alternative form of archaeology proposes to destroy the false theory-praxis and science-advocacy dichotomies and argues that the archaeologist has an important responsibility and plays a pivotal part in situating historical knowledge at the center of the continent’s social struggle. In essence, social archaeology proposes a more political and Postcolonial Archaeologies socially relevant way of addressing our inquiries into the past. Furthermore, social archaeologists engaged in this approach see themselves linked to the past that they are interpreting. Rather than seeing themselves removed from their research, they see themselves as the end product of this historical process. Not only does this not interfere in the study of the past due to some limited, ethnocentric, or nationalistic claim, but rather, it demands an even more objective understanding of it. This objectivity is of utmost importance because the past is directly tied to whom we are as a people, and this knowledge is needed for the historical construction of the continent’s present and future. Another explicit postcolonial engagement with the past is the “alternative” national history proposed by the single most powerful social movement today in Ecuador and largely represented by the CONAIE (Confederación de Nacionalidades Indı́genas del Ecuador), which has been able to bring together the majority (although not all) of the Indian community in their collective grievances and struggle against the Ecuadorian state. These grievances range from land claims to controversial constitutional amendments. This discussion is mainly interested in the CONAIE’s own reading of the preHispanic past which legitimizes its struggle and has visibly contributed to it becoming a viable political force in the country. The two most important claims by the CONAIE that constitute a counter hegemonic discourse to the official history are its demand for territorial self-determination for each Indian nationality and a multinational state. The demand for territorial self-determination relates to both differing understanding of the land, nationalism, and economic development. As Karakras (1990: 5 and 20) explains: We are peoples, we are nationalities, we have our own national processes. . . . The Indian peoples are interested in making the proclamation of autodetermination a reality and in taking their historical destiny into our own hands. The land is seen as an integral part of Indian culture and essential for constructing an independent livelihood, just as a mother is essential for 6057 P the nurturing of her children. The regaining of the land itself is essential to maintain their culture and developing it, it is a vital necessity (Karakras 1990). This is why the CONAIE presents its claim for the land as an integral part of their demands, reaffirming that the land. In contrast, the present Ecuadorian state strives to continue its century-long project of constructing a single homogenous Ecuadorian nationality and to locate all the nation’s natural and commercial resources under a central state authority that will oversee its development. The Indian proposal presents opposite demands – it wants to preserve native lands, customs, and environment from any outside exploitation, including from that of the central state. It in no way shares the dominant view of capitalist production as the way to prosperity but rather sees it as further contributing to the destruction of their lands and cultures. For the CONAIE, only a communal and autonomous self-government would contribute to the improvement of each national group and, therefore, of the central state (CONAIE 1989). The second demand of the CONAIE for a multinational state entailed a reform of Ecuador’s constitution and defined the state as plurinational in character. According to the CONAIE, this was necessary because each Indian community is a nationality in its own right, with its own culture, heritage, traditions, and language. This constitutional reform, in this manner, did not only benefit the Indian nationalities but also other oppressed groups like Afro-Ecuadorians that could gain from the restructuring of a more pluricultural and democratic state apparatus (CONAIE 1998). This proposal is a reformed position from previous Indian stances because it recognizes the reality of the Indian nationalities caught within the Ecuadorian nation-state. It also recognizes the complex makeup of the country and the presence of other ethnic and racial groups. In contrast to earlier positions, it appropriates Western concepts to serve Indian interests. A multinational state also inherently speaks to the right of each nationality to autonomous self-determination (CONAIE 1989, 1997). This self-determination P P 6058 is understood as permitting legal control over their own societies within the structure of a single more representative and democratic state: “that is, you can be of a different nationality but belong to the same state” (Karakras 1990: 23). Both of the CONAIE’s main demands are potentially counter hegemonic, yet it is clear that the state and transnational forces will always be striving to neutralize each of these radical changes, or even worse reincorporate them into their own redefinition of the global landscape. Future Directions To overhaul a history, or to attempt to redeem it— which effort may or may not justify it—is not at all the same thing as the descent one must make in order to excavate a history. To be forced to excavate a history is, also to repudiate the concept of history, and the vocabulary in which history is written; for the written history is, and must be, merely the vocabulary of power, and power is history’s most seductively attired false witness (Baldwin 1990). The contemporary setting highlights processes where interest groups like oil companies decimate contemporary Indian communities while being forced to invest in recuperating their ancestral pasts or quite similarly the support of environmental and other NGOs that coincidentally continue to reify racial hierarchies in ways that can no longer be deemed innocent or well intentioned. One of the greater contributions of a postcolonial archaeological enterprise is to actively shy away from images of wellintentioned natives or native-saving agents and rather to recognize the rocky boat (or ship of fools) that we are all equally members of. That is why new concerns of the past, such as the Taller Etnohistórico Andino in Bolivia or the CONAIE’s lack of concern with direct ancestral claims to archaeological site, are both equally valid manners to recognize the complex manner in which we are one and the other, Western and not, at one and the same time (Kincaid 1997). Postcolonial Archaeologies In the same token, it is this necessity to recognize that any active refusal to accept our complicity in this pervasive Western discourse of differentiation could only continue the geno- and ethnocidal paths that have brought us to reflect at this place (Malkki 1995). Perhaps it is the recognition that we are one and the same, from an “odd mixture of continents and blood, of here and there, of belonging and not” that may provide the most singular forms of transient agency (Kureishi 1990: 3). As James Baldwin (1990: 481) states: “Our history is each other. That is our only guide. One thing is absolutely certain: one can repudiate, or despise, no one’s history without repudiating or despising one’s own.” And the postcolonial archaeologies’ mind-set means recognizing that the colonizer’s past is also one’s own and that the opposite is true as well. Cross-References ▶ African Diaspora Archaeology ▶ Popular Culture and Archaeology ▶ Post-Processualism, Development of ▶ Practice Theory in Archaeology ▶ Professionalization: Archaeology as an “Expert” Knowledge ▶ Race in Archaeology ▶ Repatriation Acts: The Politics of Repatriation in North America ▶ Repatriation: Overview ▶ Social Archaeology ▶ South Africa: Heritage Management ▶ South American Archaeology: Postcolonial Perspectives References BALDWIN, J. 1984. Notes of a Native son. Boston: Beacon Press. - 1990. Just above my head. New York City: Laurel Press. BATE, L.F. 1977. Arqueologı́a y materialismo histórico. Mexico: Editorial Nueva Imágen. - 1978. Sociedad, formacion económico-social y cultura. Mexico: Editorial De Cultura Popular. COETZEE, J. M. 1986. Foe. New York: Viking Press. Post-Khmer Rouge Cambodia, Archaeology in CONFEDERACIÓN DE NACIONALIDADES INDÍGENAS DEL ECUADOR (CONAIE). 1989. Las Nacionalidades Indı́genas en el Ecuador: Nuestro Proceso Organizativo. Quito: Ed. TINCUI-CONAIE and Abya-Yala. - 1997. Proyecto Polı́tico de la CONAIE. Quito: CONAIE. - 1998. Las Nacionalidades Indı́genas y el Estado Plurinacional. Quito: CONAIE. DE LA CADENA, M. 2000. Indigenous mestizos: the politics of race and culture in Cuzco, Peru, 1919-1991. Durham: Duke University Press. ESCOBAR, A. 1995. Encountering development: the making and unmaking of the Third World. Princeton: Princeton University Press. FOUCAULT, M. 1980. Power and knowledge: selected interviews and other writings 1972-1977. New York: Pantheon Books. HALL, S. 1987. The local and the global: globalization and ethnicity, in A King (ed.) Culture, globalization and the world-system: contemporary conditions for the representation of identity. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. KARAKRAS, A. 1990. Las Nacionalidades Indias y el Estado Ecuatoriano. Quito: Editorial TINCUICONAIE. KINCAID, J. 1997. My brother. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. KUREISHI, H. 1990. The Buddha of suburbia. Kent: Faber and Faber. LUMBRERAS, L. 1981. La arqueologı́a como ciencia social. Lima: Ediciones Histar. MALKKI, L. 1995. Purity and exile: violence, memory, and national cosmology among Hutu refugees in Tanzania. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. SAID, E. 1989. Representing the colonized: anthropology’s interlocutors. Critical Inquiry 15: 205-25. SILVERBLATT, I. 1987. Moon, sun, and witches: gender ideologies and class in Inca and colonial Peru. Princeton: Princeton University Press. SPIVAK, G. 1999. A critique of postcolonial reason: toward a history of the vanishing present. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. TREXLER, R. 1995. Sex and conquest: gendered violence, political order, and the European conquest of the Americas. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. VAN BROEKHOVEN, L. 2010. Sharing knowledge and cultural heritage: first nations of the Americas, in L. Van Broekhoven, C. Buijs & P. Hovens (ed.) Studies in collaboration with indigenous peoples from Greenland, North and South America. Leiden: Sidestone Press. VARESE, S. & M. KEARNEY. 1995. Latin America’s Indigenous peoples: changing identities and forms of resistance, in S. Halebsky & R. Harris (ed.) Capital, power, and inequality in Latin America: 207-31. Boulder: Westview Press. VARGAS, I. 1990. Arqueologı́a, ciencia, y sociedad. Caracas: Editorial Abre Brecha. 6059 P Post-Khmer Rouge Cambodia, Archaeology in Alison Carter1, Piphal Heng2, Sophady Heng3 and Kaseka Phon4 1 Department of Anthropology, University of Wisconsin-Madison, Madison, WI, USA 2 Department of Anthropology, University of Hawai’i at Manoa, Honolulu, HI, USA 3 Ministry of Culture and Fine Arts, Phnom Penh, Cambodia 4 Archaeology Department, Institute of Culture and Fine Arts, Royal Academy of Cambodia, Phnom Penh, Cambodia Introduction Archaeology in Cambodia has grown exponentially since the end of the Khmer Rouge period and the establishment of the Paris Peace Agreement of 1991. Several institutions are responsible for overseeing this growth including the APSARA Authority, the Ministry of Culture and Fine Arts (MOCFA), the Royal University of Fine Arts (RUFA), and more recently the Royal Academy of Cambodia (RAC). This entry discusses the roles these institutions have played in the revival of archaeological research in Cambodia, Cambodian perspectives on the advance of archaeology in their country, and suggestions for future goals of archaeological research in Cambodia. Historical Background Cambodian arts and culture were reinvigorated in 1953 when Cambodia received independence. One focus of this period was an attempt to understand and define “modern Khmer culture” (Daravuth & Muan 2001). In 1965, the Royal University of Fine Arts (RUFA) was established in Phnom Penh as the first truly Cambodian university and included a Faculty of Archaeology P P 6060 staffed by Cambodian instructors that had studied and trained in France (Daravuth & Muan 2001). By 1971, plans were made for the construction of a large conference hall and space for a library, classrooms, and research center on an expanded Royal University of Fine Arts campus (Key 2001 [1971]). Unfortunately, these plans were not implemented due to the civil war and the fall of Phnom Penh to Khmer Rouge soldiers in 1975. Only three Cambodian archaeologists in Cambodia survived the Khmer Rouge period (Griffin et al. 1999). Key Issues As archaeology in Cambodia was reestablished, it was recognized that government bodies overseeing archaeological patrimony were needed. Additionally, training of new archaeologists was necessary to provide human resources for these institutions. Archaeological Patrimony: The APSARA Authority The APSARA (Authority for the Protection and Safeguarding of the Angkor Region) Authority was born out of a need to protect and conserve the sites in the Angkor region following the Khmer Rouge period (for a detailed history on the formation of APSARA, see Choulean et al. 1998; Chau Sun 2006). Just one year following the signing of the Paris Peace Agreements, the Angkor region was conditionally inscribed on the UNESCO World Heritage List. The sites within the “Perimetre de Protection” included Angkor Wat, the Bayon, Roluos, Banteay Srei, and others. The listing was provisional provided that Cambodia meet several conditions. These were fulfilled in 1995, and Angkor was inscribed permanently on the World Heritage list. In the same year, the APSARA Authority was established by royal decree and was tasked with the management and protection of the region of Angkor and Siem Reap. As Angkor was becoming a major tourist destination, APSARA primarily focused on preventing illegal construction projects. Post-Khmer Rouge Cambodia, Archaeology in However, it was also important that APSARA become increasingly autonomous, in order to provide “the institutional structure vital for nurturing the Cambodian expertise required for managing the site over the longer term” (Winter 2007: 51). Currently, the APSARA Authority describes their mission as “Protecting, maintaining, conserving, and improving the value of the archaeological park, the culture, the environment, and the history of the Angkor region as defined on the World Heritage List” (APSARA Authority 2005). The APSARA Authority contains several departments that oversee these various concerns. These include two departments dealing with Monuments and Archaeology, the Department of Angkor Tourism Development, the Department of Urbanization and Development of the Siem Reap and Angkor region, a Department of Demography and Development, and a Department of Water and Forest Management. Archaeological research and conservation of monuments is undertaken collaboratively between the APSARA Authority and various international organizations. All international projects must include training of Cambodian students as part of their project as well as collaboration with APSARA staff and experts. As Cambodia’s popularity as a tourist destination increases, APSARA has had additional challenges in managing tourism and development in Siem Reap, as well as interacting with the local population, while also following their initial goal of protecting and conserving sites. Recent archaeological research shows that the Greater Angkor Region is approximately 1,000 sq km, much larger than the initial zones included in the World Heritage listing (Fletcher et al. 2007). These additional archaeological features, which include mounds, channels, and water features, are often found in rural areas where people live and work. Several thousand people also live and work within the archaeological park itself. The rapid expansion of Siem Reap as a tourist center has also had environmental consequences especially relating to water management, which has become a new priority (Munthit 2008). Growing numbers of tourists are increasing the wear and tear on the Post-Khmer Rouge Cambodia, Archaeology in stone and brick monuments, which has led to the closing off of some areas of temples. As tourist numbers increase, the APSARA Authority will continue to see their responsibilities grow. In turn they will have to balance protection, conservation, and research of the archaeological sites under their purview while also managing the needs of the local community and facilitating the needs of tourists, whose dollars are so crucial for the Cambodian economy. Archaeological Patrimony: The Ministry of Culture and Fine Arts (MOCFA) The Ministry of Culture and Fine Arts is the other main body responsible for the protection and research of archaeological sites in Cambodia. MOCFA was established by royal decree in January 1996, and its primary responsibilities include the development of culture and fine arts as well as promoting Cambodia’s diverse cultural heritage. Archaeological oversight falls under the General Department of Cultural Heritage and four subdepartments: Archaeology and Prehistory, Antiquities, Museums, and Preservation and Conservation of Ancient Monuments. MOCFA is responsible for all archaeological sites in Cambodia except for the sites located in Siem Reap province and the sites located in the region controlled by the National Authority of Preah Vihear in Preah Vihear province. These include archaeological sites such as temples, and pagodas, as well as ancient mounds, bridges, canals, water reservoirs, and roads. One of the primary goals of the MOCFA is the broad promotion of archaeological research. Local archaeologists are encouraged to collaborate with foreign institutions and researchers to conduct survey, excavation, and restoration and preservation projects. The MOCFA is also concerned with documenting all archaeological sites on land, as well as those underground and underwater, in order to highlight their importance for Cambodia’s national cultural heritage. Recently, more than 4,000 archaeological sites have been documented, mapped, and zoned in a collaborative project between MOCFA and the École Française d’Extrême-Orient (EFEO) (Bruguier et al. 2007). Some of these sites have 6061 P also been excavated or restored in collaborative projects with local experts and international researchers through external financial support. Prior to starting such projects, MOCFA requires the collaborative organizations to create an agreement clarifying the project plan, its schedule, and budget. The MOCFA also emphasizes the importance of heritage education, as the education of local people, officials, police, monks, and students is key to protecting cultural heritage in Cambodia. In this vein, some sites are slated for development as tourist attractions, and the MOCFA intends to open as many provincial museums as possible. In addition to these smaller sites, the MOCFA is currently preparing documents for UNESCO and the World Heritage Commission to submit Sambor Prei Kuk to be included on the list of World Heritage sites. If accepted, a Sambor Prei Kuk Authority would be created as a separate unit within the MOCFA. Other sites slated to be nominated for World Heritage status include the Banteay Chhmar temple complex, the temple of Preah Khan of Kompong Svay, Beng Mealea and Koh Ker temples, Phnom Chisor temple, and the site of Angkor Borei. While the MOCFA does not have direct control over the other World Heritage sites of Angkor and Preah Vihear temple, it does work closely with both APSARA and the National Authority of Preah Vihear. Despite the progress made in recent years, the MOCFA still has many challenges related to the destruction of archaeological sites and illicit trafficking of cultural property. Recently, the acquisition of land by powerful businessmen and institutions has caused the destruction of many archaeological sites. Furthermore, local people often do not understand the importance of preserving sites, which can also lead to looting. Unfortunately, the MOCFA does not have enough resources to address all of these problems or investigate crimes. Additional difficulties include assessment and cultural valuation of various art objects, as there is not enough equipment to appraise the materials. Looting, stealing, and illegal trafficking of art objects in Cambodia are problems that make the protection and conservation of sites and objects complicated. P P 6062 Archaeological Training: The Royal University of Fine Arts (RUFA) The Royal University of Fine Arts (RUFA) has played a central role in producing new archaeologists, both before and after the Khmer Rouge period. Although RUFA was reopened in 1980, the first courses offered were only in the School of Fine Arts. It was not until 1989 that RUFA was awarded its full university status and the Department of Archaeology was reopened by its surviving alumni, including professors Chuch Phoeurn and Pich Keo. However, the department faced a great challenge due to limited human resources. The curriculum was based on prewar coursework, which included classes on Khmer history, epigraphy, art history, ethnology, and archaeology. Other courses were focused on civilizations and cultures directly related to Cambodia, such as Indian classical languages and art history, and other Southeast Asian cultures and civilizations including the Cham, Javanese, Burmese, and Thai. Also critical to the curriculum were study trips to major archaeological sites, consultation with national and international experts, as well as internships with various conservation organizations and archaeological institutions. With funding from the Toyota Foundation via UNESCO from 1995 to 2002, the Department of Archaeology drastically improved its human resources by adding national and international experts to the faculty (UNESCO 2002). Graduates of the 1994 RUFA class and junior faculty members were assigned as teaching assistants for each major topic. It was hoped that these teaching assistants and junior scholars would gradually replace their international professors and reduce the department’s reliance on foreign assistance. However, this hope was not realized, as the department lacked funding to maintain a large faculty after UNESCO ended their assistance in 2002. Fortunately, one unexpected and positive outcome of the project was the production of a series of highly competent Cambodian archaeologists, who were students of the UNESCOfunded faculty. Students who earned their degrees from 1995 to 2002 have filled positions in most of the cultural resource management institutions in Cambodia, such as MOCFA, the Post-Khmer Rouge Cambodia, Archaeology in APSARA Authority, the Royal Academy of Cambodia, and other archaeological and conservation projects. Additionally, several students have continued their education by earning doctoral degrees at institutions in Cambodia and abroad. Currently, RUFA is beginning to renovate and expand their existing facilities in order to provide more classroom, lab, and library space. Additionally, a group of scholars are working to develop a core curriculum for archaeology students. Despite these developments, RUFA continues to struggle with a lack of funding to support faculty and provide resources for students. Many RUFA alumni have volunteered to offer part-time classes or conference talks to current students. Despite the efforts of dedicated faculty, staff, volunteers, and alumni, RUFA needs additional financial support in order to provide adequate resources for its students and teachers. In spite of these challenges, a new generation of archaeologists has gradually increased and is able to respond to the demand for archaeologists and conservators in institutions such as the MOCFA, APSARA, and Preah Vihear authorities. Since the opening of the twenty-first century, more and more Cambodian archaeologists have gradually risen from field workers and trainees to become collaborators and colleagues in various international institutions in Cambodia and abroad. Archaeological Training: The Royal Academy of Cambodia (RAC) In addition to RUFA graduates, Cambodian scholars with advanced degrees are needed to train, teach, and lead research projects. With this goal in mind, the first government-sponsored master’s and doctoral degrees were established in 2002 in the Department of Archaeology in the Institute of Culture and Fine Arts at the Royal Academy of Cambodia (RAC) in 2002. The goals of the program include the management and development of archaeological research, the collection and preservation of research finds, the documentation and distribution of research findings, and the expansion of cooperative relationships with other institutions, ministries, and Post-Khmer Rouge Cambodia, Archaeology in 6063 P Post-Khmer Rouge Cambodia, Archaeology in, Fig. 1 Cambodian archaeologists working at the Choeung Ek Kiln site (Photo by Kaseka Phon) national and international organizations related to archaeological research. During the first phase of this program, five master’s and doctoral candidates were selected for training after a rigorous examination. The program has now moved into the second phase, in which graduates of the program will focus on research with government support. One graduate has already completed his Ph.D. and two others are Ph.D. candidates. Several research projects have already been completed, including the Sre Ampil project (discussed below), mapping and excavation at the Choeung Ek Kiln Site, and most recently a project entitled “Archaeology Research and Management at Prasat Trapeang Prasat” funded by the Royal Government (Fig. 1). Conservation work is currently being conducted at Trapeang Prasat, an important yet unstudied temple located near the Dangrek Mountains in Udor Meanchey province, to preserve the historical and archaeological integrity of the site for future generations (Fig. 2). Conservation of this site will hopefully increase national and international tourism to the region and will provide an important benefit for the local economy. Since 2002 RAC has organized national and international conferenc es with the joint support of the Royal Government and international institutions. In 2014, RAC, in collaboration with the MOCFA, the APSARA Authority, the National Authority of Preah Vihear, the National Committee of World Heritage, and other NGOs, will host the 20th Indo-Pacific Prehistory Association Congress in Siem Reap. In the future, the Institute of Culture and Fine Arts at the RAC will extend its research projects by seeking funding from both the Royal Government and other resources and expand its international relationships with joint research projects and additional international conferences. International Perspectives Currently, Cambodian archaeologists are working to define their role in shaping archaeological research in their country. Since Cambodia has reopened for archaeological research, there have been many international research institutions working in Cambodia. Cambodian archaeologists have had many opportunities to join these projects and gain experience for their future careers. However, these projects are often run and directed by foreigners, and Cambodians are P P 6064 Post-Khmer Rouge Cambodia, Archaeology in Post-Khmer Rouge Cambodia, Archaeology in, Fig. 2 Cambodian archaeologists from the Royal Academy of Cambodia working at the temple of Trapeang Prasat (Photo by Kaseka Phon) often only hired as research assistants. In many cases, the research findings, archaeological materials, and results remain under the control of the director of the project. Under these circumstances, Cambodian archaeologists are not always equal collaborators. It is for this reason that opportunities for Cambodian-led research projects and in-country training, such as the RAC advanced degree program discussed above, are so important. One successful Cambodian-led project is the Sre Ampil project, a 2-year program funded by the Center for Khmer Studies with archaeologists and students from RUFA and RAC. Cambodian archaeologists and students conducted excavations at the site of Sre Ampil and worked with local villagers to construct a site museum, which includes both artifacts from excavations and objects donated by villagers (Fig. 3). The Sre Ampil archaeological site will also be used as a permanent field training site for RUFA archaeology students and possibly for students in anthropology and tourism studies from other universities (see Phon & Phon 2009). Another step forward in the process of increasing indigenous archaeological research is the establishment of the Khmer Archaeological Society (www.khmeras.org). This Cambodian-led NGO established by Mr. Phon Kaseka seeks to preserve past and present cultural heritage, including the Post-Khmer Rouge Cambodia, Archaeology in, Fig. 3 Cambodian archaeologists examining a temple foundation at the site of Sre Ampil (Photo by Kaseka Phon) heritage of minority groups such as the Cham and Kuoy. In this way, Cambodians are beginning to take a leadership role in the practice of archaeology in their country. Post-Khmer Rouge Cambodia, Archaeology in 6065 Future Directions Cross-References Archaeological research in post-Khmer Rouge Cambodia has made great strides since the country reopened for archaeological research in the 1990s. Nevertheless, there are still several areas where improvements can be made. First, it is recognized that many archaeological sites in Cambodia are still vulnerable to looters or development. Cultural resource protection and education and implementation of heritage law is lacking in Cambodia. Therefore, a focus on archaeological site preservation and salvage excavations is needed. Furthermore, local involvement and education is a crucial aspect in protecting against site destruction. As part of this goal, it is important to continue with the construction of site museums for the display of artifacts collected at the site. Retention of cultural treasures by the communities in which they are found is good for reinforcing cultural identity, local morale, the economy, and the education of villagers and tourists who will jointly support the museums. This is currently an important goal of the MOCFA, and several local site museums have already been constructed. Site museums and the recognition of important sites outside the Angkor region would also reduce problems related to over-visitation of the principal sites in Angkor. Tour agencies currently neglect other areas in the country where there is tourism potential. Tourism development at these would attract national and international visitors to spend time in other parts of Cambodia beyond Angkor and increase tourist dollars. It is also hoped that training programs for students at RUFA, RAC, and other universities would allow them additional opportunities to practice their skills and assist with job placement after graduation. Lastly, it is essential that Cambodian archaeologists continue to develop relationships with other international scholars, especially those in other Southeast Asian countries. Hopefully, with increased in-country education and training, Cambodian archaeologists, in partnership with foreign collaborators, can lead the way toward achieving many of these objectives. ▶ Cambodia: Cultural Heritage Management P References APSARA AUTHORITY. 2005. History and organization. Available at: http://www.autoriteapsara.org/en/ apsara/about_apsara/history_organization.html (accessed 29 May 2011). BRUGUIER, B., N. PHANN, C. CHRIN, C. CHAMROEUN & S. CHAN. 2007. Carte archéologique du Cambodge (23 maps). Phnom-Penh: Ministry of Culture and Fine Arts/Paris: École française d’Extrême-Orient. CHAU SUN, K. 2006. Angkor sites, cultural world heritage, in B. Hoffman (ed.) Art and cultural heritage: law, policy, and practice: 148-156. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. CHOULEAN, A., E. PRENOWITZ & A. THOMPSON (ed.) 1998. Angkor: a manual for the past, present, and future. Phnom Penh: APSARA/UNESCO. DARAVUTH, L. & I. MUAN. 2001. Cultures of independence: an introduction to Cambodian arts and culture in the 1950’s and 1960’s. Phnom Penh: Reyum. FLETCHER, R., I. JOHNSON, E. BRUCE & K. KHUN-NEAY. 2007. Living with heritage: site monitoring and heritage values in Greater Angkor and the Angkor World Heritage Site, Cambodia. World Archaeology 39: 385-405. GRIFFIN, P. B., J. LEDGERWOOD & C. PHOEURN. 1999. The Royal University of Fine Arts, East-West Center, and University of Hawai’i Program in the Archaeology and Anthropology in the Kingdom of Cambodia, 19941998. Asian Perspectives 38: 1-6. KEY, P. 2001. [1971] L’Université des Beaux-Arts, in L. Daravuth & I. Muan (ed.) Cultures of independence: an introduction to Cambodian arts and culture in the 1950’s and 1960’s: 342-357. Phnom Penh: Reyum. MUNTHIT, K. 2008. Saving ancient Angkor from modern doomsday. The San Francisco Chronicle, 17 February 2008, p. A-19. PHON, K. & C.K. PHON. 2009. Sre Ampil museum. Available at: http://khmeras.org/index.php?option= com_content&view=article&id=55:sre-ampil-museum& catid=34:museum&Itemid=37 (accessed 25 August 2011). UNESCO. 2002. Reinforcing national capacity for the conservation of cultural monuments: the project of assistance to the Royal University of Fine Arts. Available at: http://portal.unesco.org/es/ev.phpURL_ID¼9778&URL_DO¼DO_PRINTPAGE&URL_ SECTION¼201.html (accessed March 8, 2011). WINTER, T. 2007. Post-conflict heritage, postcolonial tourism. New York: Routledge. P P 6066 Post-Medieval Archaeology Cross-References Post-Medieval Archaeology Jacqueline Pearce Museum of London Archaeology Service, London, UK Brief Definition of the Topic Post-Medieval Archaeology is the journal of the Society for Post-Medieval Archaeology, founded in the UK in 1966. The Society takes a lead in promoting postmedieval archaeology in Britain and advises government and other national bodies. The journal publishes an annual roundup of fieldwork undertaken in the UK and an annual report of significant finds recorded by the Portable Antiquities Scheme. In addition, the biannual journal aims to publish a diverse range of articles and shorter notes on both British and international archaeology. Its scope is the material evidence of European society, wherever it is found throughout the world, in a period that saw the transition from medieval to industrial society and the foundation of the modern world on new Renaissance and Reformation values, marked by the shift from collective to individual mentalities; increasing social segregation; new notions of privacy, family, gender, and space; global expansion; and revolutions in the modes and scales of production. The journal fosters a multidisciplinary approach to the past, encouraging use of material, textual, iconographic, and scientific evidence, as well as engaging in the latest theoretical debate. Its chronological remit extends right up to the present day. The European Reference Index for the Humanities (ERIH), published by the European Science Foundation in 2007, places Post-Medieval Archaeology in its category “A”: high-ranking international publications with a very strong reputation among researchers of the field in different countries, regularly cited all over the world. Details on submission procedures can be viewed on the Society’s website at http://www.spma.org. uk/journal.php. ▶ Atlantic World: Historical Archaeology ▶ Australasian Society for Historical Archaeology (ASHA) ▶ Contemporary and Historical Archaeology in Theory (CHAT) ▶ Contemporary Past, Archaeology of the ▶ Historical Archaeology ▶ Industrial Archaeology ▶ Irish Post-Medieval Archaeology Group (IPMAG) ▶ Society for Historical Archaeology (SHA) (Historical Archaeology) ▶ Society for Industrial Archeology (SIA) Further Reading THE SOCIETY FOR POST-MEDIEVAL ARCHAEOLOGY. n.d. Available at: http://www.spma.org.uk/journal.php. Post-Medieval Archaeology (Europe) Chris King Department of Archaeology, The University of Nottingham, Nottingham, UK Introduction Post-medieval archaeology is the term commonly used in Europe for the study of post-CE-1500 society, although there remains debate over the chronological definition of the subject at both its beginning and end points. The archaeology of post-medieval Europe is potentially a vast subject, encompassing a huge variety of material remains across a remarkably diverse linguistic, political, and cultural environment. It is a relatively young branch of archaeology, only really emerging as a distinct field of practice in Britain in the decades after the Second World War. Here, it is now a well-established feature of academic research, national and regional Post-Medieval Archaeology (Europe) heritage management policy, and developerfunded commercial archaeology. On the Continent, post-medieval archaeology developed as a natural progression from the study of medieval archaeology, and it is only since the 1970s that archaeological investigations of post-CE 1500 remains have been regularly undertaken and published, most notably in Northern and Western Europe. There are still very few academic posts dedicated to post-medieval archaeology on the Continent, and most post-medieval archaeological research is conducted within the context of development projects. In Central and Eastern Europe and the Mediterranean countries, postmedieval archaeology remains underdeveloped as a distinct subdiscipline, although this is now beginning to change. Cross-European and global perspectives are increasing within the subject, and a wider range of methodological and interpretive approaches are being advocated by leading practitioners in both Britain and the Continent. Definition Both the chronological start and end points of the term “post-medieval” have been the subject of widespread debate in European archaeology. The term is used by European archaeologists for the study of post-CE-1500 material remains. It is often used in contrast to the term “historical archaeology,” which was first developed in the USA for the investigation of sites of European colonial settlement. The latter term is now widespread internationally and used in two overlapping senses: firstly, as a definition for the archaeology of European settler societies in New World contexts (including North and South America and Australasia) as well as their interaction with and impact on indigenous peoples and, secondly, as a catch-all term for the archaeology of the last 500 years. Many accounts maintain that this period is dominated by European imperialism and the spread of global capitalism and that archaeologists should seek out these 6067 P phenomena in specific local contexts. However, European archaeologists often counter that both the term “historical archaeology” and the interpretive focus on colonialism and capitalism are inappropriate for their area of study because widespread historical documentation exists for many European countries from the medieval period as well as the classical past, and because colonialism and capitalism were experienced in very different ways in Europe compared to the brutal colonization of New World territories. Anders Andrén has argued that post-medieval archaeology is one branch of a wider “historical archaeology” that encompasses the archaeological study of all literate societies (Andrén 1998). This too has its problems, given that many recently literate societies have well-established traditions of oral history, for example, in subSaharan Africa. These debates highlight the distinctive intellectual traditions from which European postmedieval archaeology emerged. In contrast to American archaeology, which is based within the discipline of anthropology, in Europe the archaeological study of the more recent past emerged gradually from the study of Roman and medieval archaeology, with strong connections to the disciplines of history, art-and-architectural history, and historical geography. On the Continent, the vibrant field of folk studies or “European ethnology” had an equally powerful effect on the early development of the discipline, manifested by the establishment of regional folk-life museums and collections of preserved historic buildings and implements (e.g., the openair museum at Skansen in Stockholm (Sweden), founded in 1891) (Fig. 1). The growth of social history and the Annalés historical school in the mid-twentieth century, with its emphasis on the material realities of everyday life and the longue durée of landscape and cultural change, was a significant influence. This reflects the genuine continuity of the historical and archaeological record between the medieval and post-medieval periods. European rural landscapes and urban centers often have long histories stretching back P P 6068 Post-Medieval Archaeology (Europe) Post-Medieval Archaeology (Europe), Fig. 1 Reconstructed nineteenth-century buildings at Skansen living history museum, Stockholm, Sweden (# Paul Courtney) to prehistoric, Roman, or medieval times, and many aspects of the post-medieval archaeological record, from material culture types to plans of buildings, actually originate in the preceding centuries. This means that European archaeologists often work across the medieval and post-medieval periods and are specialists in particular types of archaeological evidence (such as ceramics, glass, or buildings) rather than period specialists. However, the term post-medieval was first used for the study of the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries only and is arguably less relevant to the growing focus on nineteenth-, twentieth-, and twenty-first-century archaeology. Some European scholars have advocated that “post-medieval” should be abandoned in favor of the more commonly accepted global terminology. They recognize that there is a need to investigate the dramatic changes occurring in post-medieval Europe while avoiding totalizing grand narratives which obscure the complexities of local, regional, national, and global cultures and connections (Hicks 2005). While post-medieval is the term used by archaeologists, historians more commonly use the terms “early modern” for the period from the sixteenth to the eighteenth centuries and “modern” for the nineteenth century to the present day. The historiographical divide between the “medieval” and “post-medieval” or “early modern” period is a long-standing one in European historical and political thought. It reflects a widespread conception that the sixteenth century witnessed major transformative changes which clearly separate a traditional, feudal medieval past from the development of modern European society. These can be summed up as a series of large-scale historical processes and cultural watersheds, many of which would be expected to have archaeological expressions. Most notable among these could be considered the “Renaissance” of classical literature and art in fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Italy, the dramatic impact of the European Protestant Reformation from the second decade of the sixteenth century which saw the breakup of the unified Roman Church, the European discovery of the New World in 1492 and the establishment of European global empires, the early modern “scientific revolution” and the spread of Enlightenment philosophy and democratic politics, and, in the realm of the economy, the ascendancy of capitalism through agricultural and urban expansion, global trade, and the impact of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century industrialization. However, it must be recognized that these large-scale processes are essentially modern Post-Medieval Archaeology (Europe) historiographical constructions which arguably have limited importance for many aspects of the archaeological and historical record. The start date of c. CE 1500 is an arbitrary convention which can conceal important elements of continuity within European social, economic, and religious life. “Europe” is also a contested concept for this period. In the sixteenth century, Europe consisted of multiple fragmented polities and regional societies, containing a huge variety of languages and cultures. While there were certainly many connections between different areas of Europe, stimulated by trading networks and the important role of the Roman Church, it is debatable whether ordinary people would have shared many cultural affiliations with even regional neighbors, let alone any kind of pan-European identity. The early modern period saw the creation of the nation-states of contemporary Europe, which were in part shaped by new material and architectural expressions such as fortifications and nationalistic symbols. It is vital to remember that large-scale historical processes such as the Reformation or the rise of capitalism affected different regions and communities in different ways and at very different speeds, some being imposed from above, while others emerged organically from small-scale changes in everyday economic and social practices. Furthermore, because the development of post-medieval archaeology has been led by Britain and Northern and Western Continental Europe, there has been a tendency to marginalize the archaeology of other regions of Europe. For instance, in Eastern Europe and Russia, the Orthodox Church remained a major unifying force at the same time as Western European Christendom was becoming fragmented into Catholic and Protestant realms, while a major portion of Southeastern Europe and the Eastern Mediterranean remained part of the Islamic Ottoman Empire throughout the post-medieval period, drawing significant cultural influences from North Africa and the Middle East. If c. CE 1500 is a widely shared start point for European post-medieval archaeology, there is much greater variety in when the period is 6069 P considered to have ended. The first practitioners of the discipline tended to focus on the early postmedieval centuries. In Britain, the Society for Post-Medieval Archaeology was founded in 1966, emerging from the Post-Medieval Ceramic Research Group which had been established three years previously, and the first issue of its journal Post-Medieval Archaeology appeared in 1967. The Society originally defined its remit as the archaeology of the period from c. CE 1500 to c. CE 1750, arguing that the mid-eighteenth century saw profound changes in the development of industry and society which made a natural cutoff point. At the same time, industrial archaeology had emerged as a distinct subdiscipline in the 1950s, with the Association of Industrial Archaeology being established in 1973. Many early advocates of industrial archaeology had a narrow focus on questions of technological development and the economic impact of industry, but there was a growing concern to record the ordinary experiences of industrial workers, and some advocated that industrial archaeology should be seen as the archaeology of the totality of society in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries (Nevell 2006). The first synthesis of postmedieval archaeology in Britain by David Crossley concentrated on the early period, covering urban and rural landscapes, building types, material culture, and the evidence of early industrial production (Crossley 1990). In the past two decades, there has been much greater emphasis on the archaeology of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, in part stimulated by the influence of historical archaeology in the USA and Australasia, and this is reflected by the content of the most recent survey of post-medieval archaeology in Britain which continues to c. CE 1900 (Newman 2001). The Irish Post-Medieval Archaeology Group was established in 1999 and has published work on both early modern “plantation-era” archaeology and more recent industrial and urban sites. In Britain there has also been increased emphasis on developing archaeological studies of the recent past. This was initially stimulated by the recording of the First World War and Second World War military heritage and, since the late 1990s, has been extended to the P P 6070 Post-Medieval Archaeology (Europe) study of Cold War sites and the application of archaeological approaches to contemporary (late twentieth and twenty-first century) material remains including council houses, tower blocks, protest camps, and graffiti (Buchli & Lucas 2001). The recently formed Contemporary and Historical Archaeology in Theory (CHAT) group provides a focus for this work. Recognizing these broad shifts in the methodological and thematic coverage of the discipline, in 2006 the Society for Post-Medieval Archaeology officially extended its remit to incorporate the archaeology of the period from c. CE 1500 to the present day. Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples The early focus within post-medieval archaeology in Britain was on developing typological studies of specific material culture categories (such as ceramics, glass, and clay pipes), which could be used for dating excavated sites and for studies of technology and production, and the publication of excavations, especially urban sites and industrial production (kiln or furnace) sites. The 1970s and 1980s saw the growth of “rescue” archaeology within the UK as urban centers were extensively redeveloped, and while much attention was focused on Roman and medieval remains, some important post-medieval sequences were excavated in towns such as London, Norwich, and Exeter. The 1982 televised raising of Henry VIII’s flagship The Mary Rose from the Solent channel, and the public interest in the wealth of well-preserved organic material culture from the wreck, showed that post-medieval archaeology could be as highly valued as earlier periods, a point which was reinforced in 1989 during the major public controversy over the threatened destruction of the remains of the Elizabethan “Rose Theatre” on London’s South Bank. In the mid-1990s, new legislation provided protection for both buried archaeology and listed buildings (Planning Policy Guidance Notes 15 and 16). This has had a dramatic impact on the study of post-medieval remains in Britain, which are now increasingly excavated and published as Post-Medieval Archaeology (Europe), Fig. 2 Excavations of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century farm buildings at Henllys Farm, Pembrokeshire, Wales (# Harold Mytum) important parts of the archaeological sequence in their own right rather than being seen as later “disturbance.” The study of post-medieval buildings was already well developed as an important subdiscipline following the foundation of the Vernacular Architecture Group in 1952, with the first issue of the journal Vernacular Architecture appearing in 1970. Studies of rural landscapes and buildings have increased in number and scope, with a focus on the impact of the enclosure of medieval agricultural landscapes and shifts in settlement patterns in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries (Newman 2001) (Fig. 2). Within Britain, there is now a strong conception that the “historic environment” encompasses the archaeology, buildings, and landscapes of all periods of the past, which should be protected and adapted to provide a meaningful “sense of place” for contemporary communities, although this is not always applied rigorously to later post-medieval structures which are often undervalued or taken for granted. Post-Medieval Archaeology (Europe) 6071 P Post-Medieval Archaeology (Europe), Fig. 3 The Workhouse, Southwell, Nottinghamshire. Built in 1824 as a new type of institution within a reformed system of poor relief, it was designed to classify, segregate, and punish the “undeserving” poor (# Chris King) Since the early 1990s, a small number of postmedieval academic posts have been established in British universities, and scholars have advocated the integration of explicit archaeological theory and a greater plurality of interpretive approaches within the subject. Rather than seeing post-medieval archaeological remains primarily in terms of technological or economic change, they argue that material culture should be seen as meaningful within social relationships and social identities in the past – for instance, in terms of class, gender, ethnicity, or religion. One major area of focus for both academic and museum-based archaeologists is on the transition between the medieval and post-medieval periods. Studies of a wide range of material culture types including buildings, fortifications, ceramics, dress fittings, and metal toys show that there were significant elements of continuity as well as change in people’s material environment. A focused study on the archaeology of the Reformation highlighted that religious change in sixteenth-century Europe involved both top-down and bottom-up transformations in belief and practice and that much older medieval religious culture was incorporated into new Protestant and Catholic religious cultures (Gaimster & Gilchrist 2003). Matthew Johnson studied changes in vernacular farmhouses, material culture, and the enclosure of rural landscapes in sixteenth-century Suffolk, England, arguing that they reflected the transformation of the social order through the rise of privacy and commodification, revealing the spread of capitalist socioeconomic relations (Johnson 1996). More recently, Sarah Tarlow has examined the material remains of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Britain and argued that rather than simply reflecting capitalism, they are also a product of changing ideologies such as the widespread idea of “improvement,” which stimulated new farming practices, the rebuilding of town centers, and the creation of institutions of “moral reform” such as workhouses and prisons (Tarlow 2007) (Fig. 3). In Continental Europe, post-medieval archaeology emerged more recently than in the UK and currently retains a focus on the immediate post-Reformation centuries. There are few dedicated academic posts in the subject, mainly concentrated in Germany and Scandinavia, and most post-medieval archaeological research is undertaken by archaeologists connected to urban municipalities, state heritage or archaeological services, or museums, within the context of development projects. In Germany, the subject was stimulated by the excavation of well-preserved archaeological sequences from Hanseatic towns including Lubeck and Duisburg in the 1970s and 1980s (Krause 1992). The German Society for Medieval Archaeology (Deutsche Gesellschaft für Archäologie des P P 6072 Post-Medieval Archaeology (Europe) Post-Medieval Archaeology (Europe), Fig. 4 The mercury distillation plant at Almadén, Castilla La Mancha, Ciudad Real, Spain. Mercury (from the mineral cinnabar) was essential to the expanding silver economy of the Spanish New World, and the mines at Almadén were a major state-owned concern (# Marilyn Palmer) Mittelalters), which was founded in 1975, extended its remit to cover Neuzeit, or “the archaeology of the modern period,” in 1990. In 2009 a new German and English open-access journal Historische Archäologie was established covering the archaeology of both early modern and more recent periods. Large-scale urban excavations have also taken place in Scandinavian cities including Lund (Sweden), Trondheim (Norway), and Copenhagen (Denmark) (Gaimster 2005) and in many cities in the Low Countries, notably Amsterdam (the Netherlands) and Antwerp (Belgium) (Bartels 1999). In France, post-medieval sites are excavated by the state archaeology service, but there is also a strong tradition of regional rural landscape and vernacular architecture studies. In Eastern Europe, post-medieval archaeology has developed from a strong tradition of ethnology and material culture studies as well as the largescale urban excavations which have taken place since the collapse of Communism; David Gaimster has suggested that the European Council’s funding of archaeology within medieval and post-medieval towns in the former eastern bloc has been a way of reemphasizing older shared traditions in the new Europe (Gaimster 2005). Italy has a dedicated research journal for the subject, Archeologia Postmedievale (founded in 1997); there has been extensive work on postmedieval ceramics and glass, reflecting the interest in the material culture of the Renaissance. Spain has seen only limited research on postmedieval archaeology, and in both Italy and Greece, there has been some recent work on post-medieval landscape surveys and vernacular architecture studies (Milanese 1997) (Fig. 4). In Continental Europe, then, the major focus has been on the excavation and publication of early post-medieval urban sites and their rich material culture assemblages, with more limited work on rural landscapes and buildings. The archaeology of the household and domestic life has been a significant recent area, highlighting the potential for complex social and cultural analyses of material culture drawing on historical documents such as wills and probate inventories of household goods, as well as artistic depictions of early modern domestic interiors. One example of this is David Gaimster’s study of the stoneware ceramic industries of the Rhineland, which developed in the fourteenth century and whose products were exported all over Northern Europe, Britain, and the European colonies in North America. Gaimster is able to bring together varied sources to show shifts in patterns of production, trade, and consumption of this distinctive form of ceramic tableware, highlighting its role in new rituals of dining and the display of wealth and culture in middle-class European households (Gaimster 1997). Post-Medieval Archaeology (Europe) There remain significant challenges facing the development of post-medieval archaeology in Europe. As the majority of research is undertaken in the context of developer-funded projects, fostering a coordinated research framework is problematic, and the sheer scale and diversity of the material and built archaeology of the last 500 years create huge challenges in terms of management, publication, and archiving strategies. This is compounded by the natural tendency of each European country to publish in its own national language, making synthesis difficult to achieve. Only a few explicitly transnational studies have been undertaken for post-medieval object types, but these highlight the necessity to consider cross-European exchange of material culture in this period (Gaimster 1997; Veeckman 2002). British archaeologists, influenced by global historical archaeology, have pioneered the study of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and have recently highlighted the need for an archaeological approach to the material remains of twentieth-century and contemporary society. In contrast, there has been only very limited research on this later period on the Continent, largely through industrial archaeology and studies of buildings and landscapes, while archaeological excavations of twentieth-century material happen only occasionally, usually through the archaeological or forensic study of modern warfare and sites of atrocities. Many people still question the usefulness of archaeology for the study of a period with rich historical and visual records, but archaeologists have successfully demonstrated that the material remains of the recent past can provide unique and valuable insights into the dramatic social, economic, and political transformations which created, and continue to operate within, our present-day world. Cross-References ▶ Agrarian Landscapes: Environmental Archaeological Studies ▶ Association for Industrial Archaeology (AIA) ▶ Buildings Archaeology ▶ Capitalism: Historical Archaeology 6073 P ▶ Central–Eastern Europe: Historical Archaeology ▶ Ceramics as Dating Tool in Historical Archaeology ▶ Ceramics: European Cream to Whitewares in the USA ▶ Ceramics: Stonewares ▶ Clay Pipes in Historical Archaeology ▶ Colonial Encounters, Archaeology of ▶ Contemporary and Historical Archaeology in Theory (CHAT) ▶ Consumption, Archaeology of ▶ Contemporary Past, Archaeology of the ▶ Deutsche Gesellschaft für Archäologie des Mittelalters und der Neuzeit e.V. (DGAMN) ▶ Estate Landscapes in Historical Archaeology ▶ European Contact and Global Expansion (Post-CE 1500): Historical Archaeology ▶ Fortifications, Archaeology of ▶ Industrial Archaeology ▶ Industrial Heritage Association of Ireland (IHAI) ▶ Johnson, Matthew (Historical Archaeology) ▶ Medieval Archaeology ▶ Modern World: Historical Archaeology ▶ Ottoman Empire: Historical Archaeology ▶ Post-Medieval Archaeology ▶ Tarlow, Sarah ▶ Western Europe: Historical Archaeology References ANDRÉN, A. 1998. Between artifacts and texts: historical archaeology in global perspective. New York: Plenum. BARTELS, M. 1999. Steden in scherven. Cities in sherds 1 and 2. Finds from cesspits in Deventer, Dordrecht, Nijmegen en Tiel (1250-1900). 2 vols. Amersfoort: Stchting Promotie Archaeologie, Zwolle and Rijksdienst voor het Oudheidkundig Bodemonderzoek. BUCHLI, V. & G. LUCAS. (ed.) 2001. Archaeologies of the contemporary past. London: Routledge. CROSSLEY, D. 1990. Post-medieval archaeology in Britain. Leicester: Leicester University Press. GAIMSTER, D. 1997. German stoneware 1200-1900: archaeology and cultural history. London: British Museum Press. - 2005. A parallel history: the archaeology of Hanseatic urban culture in the Baltic c. 1200–1600. World Archaeology 37: 408-423. P P 6074 GAIMSTER, D. & R. GILCHRIST. (ed.) 2003. The archaeology of reformation 1480-1580 (Society for Post-Medieval Archaeology Monograph 1). Leeds: Maney. HICKS, D. 2005. ‘Places for thinking’ from Annapolis to Bristol: situations and symmetries in ‘world historical archaeologies’. World Archaeology 37 (3): 373-391. JOHNSON, M. 1996. An archaeology of capitalism. Oxford: Blackwell. KRAUSE, G. (ed.) 1992. Stadtarchäologie in Duisburg 1980-1990. Duisburg: Duisburger Forschungen 38. MILANESE, M. (ed.) 1997. Archeologia post-medievale: società–ambiente–produzione. L’esperienza Europa e L’Italia. Florence: All’Insegna del Giglio. NEVELL, M. 2006. The 2005 Rolt memorial lecture: industrial archaeology or the archaeology of the industrial period? Models, methodology and the future of industrial archaeology. Industrial Archaeology Review XXVIII (1): 3-15. NEWMAN, R. 2001. The historical archaeology of Britain, c.1540-1900. Stroud: Sutton TARLOW, S. 2007. The archaeology of improvement in Britain, 1750-1850. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. VEECKMAN, J. (ed.) 2002. Maiolica and glass: from Italy to Antwerp and beyond. The transfer of technology in the 16th-early 17th century. Antwerp: Stad Antwerpen. Further Reading BARAM, U. & L. CARROLL. (ed.) 2000. A historical archaeology of the Ottoman empire: breaking new ground. New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum. BOWSHER, J. 2012. Shakespeare’s London theatreland: archaeology, history and drama. London: Museum of London Archaeology. DALGLISH, C. 2003. Rural society in the age of reason: an archaeology of the emergence of modern life in the southern Scottish Highlands. New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum. EGAN, G. & R.L. MICHAEL (ed.) 1997. Old and new worlds: historical/post-medieval archaeology papers from the societies’ joint conferences at Williamsburg and London 1997 to mark thirty years of work and achievement. Oxford: Oxbow. GAIMSTER, D. & P. STAMPER. (ed.) 1997. The age of transition: the archaeology of English culture 1400-1600. (Society for Medieval Archaeology Monograph). Oxford: Oxbow. HORNING, A., R. Ó BAOILL, C. DONNELLY & P. LOGUE. (ed.) 2007. The post-medieval archaeology of Ireland. Bray: Wordwell HORNING, A. & M. PALMER. (ed.) 2009. Crossing paths or sharing tracks? Future directions in the archaeological study of post-1550 Britain and Ireland (Society for Post-Medieval Archaeology Monograph 5). Woodbridge: Boydell. MAJEWSKI, T. & D. GAIMSTER. (ed.) 2009. The international handbook of historical archaeology. New York: Springer. Post-Processual Archaeology MIENTJES, A., M. PLUCIENNEK & E. GIANNITRAPANI. 2002. Archaeologies of recent rural Sicily and Sardinia: a comparative approach. Journal of Mediterranean Archaeology 15: 139-166. NORDIN, J.M. 2012. Embodied colonialism: the cultural meaning of sliver in a Swedish colonial context in the 17th century. Post-Medieval Archaeology 46 (1): 143-165. PALMER, M. & P. NEAVERSON. 1998. Industrial archaeology: principles and practice. London & New York: Routledge. PENROSE, S. (ed.) 2007. Images of change: an archaeology of England’s contemporary landscape. London: English Heritage. TARLOW, S. & S. WEST. (ed.) 1999. The familiar past: archaeologies of later historical Britain. London & New York: Routledge. VIONIS, A.K. 2005. Domestic material culture and postmedieval archaeology in Greece: a case-study from the Cyclades Islands. Post-Medieval Archaeology 39(1): 172-185. Post-Processual Archaeology Ian Hodder Anthropology Department, Stanford University, Stanford, CA, USA Introduction Post-processual archaeology stemmed from critical debates about the nature of archaeology in the 1980s in Britain, Scandinavia, and the United States leading to much controversy in the 1980s and 1990s and often dividing the discipline into two camps, processual and post-processual. During the first decade of the twenty-first century, the debate has settled down, and many archaeologists attempt to integrate divergent perspectives within the discipline or pick and choose between them. Definition Post-processual archaeology began in the 1980s as a reaction to processual archaeology, and it came to be used as an umbrella term covering a wide range of approaches that engage with contemporary social theory and acknowledge Post-Processual Archaeology the historical dimensions of knowledge production. These approaches have included discussions of power and ideology, feminism, shifts to and from the notion that material culture can be read as a text, phenomenology, accounts of agency, landscape, the body, memory, materiality, the links between archaeology and heritage, indigenous rights, and ethics. Historical Background In the early 1980s post-processual archaeology identified a series of oppositions that were not being debated within the discipline as a result of the approaches followed by processual archaeology. These were as follows: System and structure: By focusing on variability in adaptive responses to environments as the main locus of cultural change, processual archaeology seemed to reject those large parts of anthropology and the social sciences and humanities which explored underlying structures (especially structures of power and structures of meaning). Behavior and agency: Similarly by focusing on how humans responded to environments in predictable ways, and by focusing on material culture as an adaptive tool, processual archaeologists gave little import to the ways in which human agents actively used material culture to transform social worlds. Anthropology and history: By espousing the view that archaeology was anthropological, comparative, and generalizing, processual archaeologists seemed to deny the validity of theories of history and the long tradition, at least in Europe, of linking archaeology with history. Object and subject: By adopting a stringent view of science as following the hypotheticodeductive method, processual archaeologists used an outdated view of science that did not engage with a wide range of post-positivist philosophies and could not accommodate multiple conflicting perspectives. In developing this critique, post-processual archaeologists had a number of influences. There were certainly some historical antecedents within archaeology, including the European 6075 P tradition of linking archaeology with history seen, for example, in the work of Collingwood and Childe (Hodder & Hutson 2003). In North America some have suggested a precursor in the work of Walter Taylor, and Bruce Trigger and James Deetz were also influential. But the main influences were from outside archaeology. In Britain and Europe these were from social and cultural anthropology (Edwin Ardener, Ernest Gellner, Mary Douglas, Clifford Geertz, Victor Turner, Marshall Sahlins) but mainly from Pierre Bourdieu and the Cambridge sociologist Anthony Giddens. In the United States important influences were from Marxism and critical theory, particularly in the context of historical archaeology, and from feminism and indigenous archaeology. In the late 1970s and early 1980s in Cambridge, a group of graduate students and professors influenced by these ideas including Ian Hodder, Paul Lane, Danny Miller, Henrietta Moore, Mike Parker Pearson, and Chris Tilley organized seminars and a conference attended by Meg Conkey, Susan Kus, Marke Leone, and Alison Wylie. At the same time ethnoarchaeological research (e.g., by Hodder, Miller, and Moore) demonstrated ways in which the broad theoretical interests could be explored in relation to material culture. In the resulting publications (e.g., Hodder 1982a, b; Leone 1982; Miller & Tilley 1984; Shanks & Tilley 1987a, b; Hodder & Hutson 2003) a number of themes were apparent. The first was that material culture is meaningfully constituted. This was a response to the ecological and adaptive emphases of processual archaeology, and it involved the analysis of structures of meaning and symbolism (see “Key Issues” below). Another theme was that material culture is active not passive. This was a reaction to the functionalism and behaviorism of processual archaeology. Within both these themes, there was in the European debates a simultaneous rejection of structuralism and an embrace of the work of Bourdieu and his notion of habitus and of Giddens and his notion of structuration. These approaches seemed particularly appropriate for archaeology because they dealt with practice P P 6076 (how rules and structures are played out in the practices of daily life – including in the material objects and residues visible to archaeologists) and with the transformation of structures (how societies change through practice – again the approaches seemed relevant to a discipline dealing with long-term change). Various forms of post-structuralist critique were incorporated into publications and debates. These changes in perspective within archaeological theory were not produced by a particular book, person, group, or movement. Rather they were made possible by a general change in archaeology that happened in response to wider shifts in related disciplines and in society at large. The main contributing influences were Marxism, structuralism and the post-structuralist critiques, feminist archaeology, postcolonial and indigenous archaeology, and post-positivist debates within the philosophy of science. Marxism had long been an important component of theoretical debate in archaeology as a result of the work of Childe, but the specific impetus influencing the emergence of postprocessual archaeology in Europe was the structural-Marxism of Godelier and Meillassoux and the archaeology of Rowlands and Friedman in which evolutionary change was dependent on specific historical interactions between the forces and relations of production. But it was the Marxist critique of theory and science that had most influence through the work of Mark Leone in the United States and particularly his work in the public archaeology project at Annapolis. As already noted, in addition to Marxist notions of structure, semiotics, structuralism, and poststructuralism (as in the work of Saussure, LéviStrauss, Derrida) all played their role in encouraging a more complex discussion in archaeology of the ways in which material culture is patterned and organized. Early post-processual archaeology had an ambiguous relationship with feminist archaeology. As noted above, Moore, Conkey, and Wylie played significant early roles, but there was soon criticism of a lack of concern with feminist issues in, for example, the early writing of Shanks and Tilley (Engelstad 1991). It was not Post-Processual Archaeology until 1990 that the first explicitly feminist archaeology emerged in volume form (Conkey & Gero 1990), and since then there have been many developments in feminist and gender archaeology dealing with issues close to those discussed in post-processual archaeology such as knowledge construction, context, ideology, reflexivity, identity, agency, and materiality (e.g., as seen in the work of Rosemary Joyce). Recent definitions of feminist archaeology overlap considerably with post-processual archaeology. There is some debate about relationships between the growth of postcolonial and indigenous archaeologies and post-processual archaeology. There is a wide recognition in archaeology today that archaeology was historically aligned with nationalist, colonial, and imperial projects that separated many communities from their pasts and wrote the histories and prehistories of others in ways that reinforced dominant narratives (Trigger 1984, 2006). In its critique of processual archaeology’s associations with particular forms of dominant discourse in science, post-processual archaeology was aligned to those groups claiming rights and identity to the material past. For example, the African Burial Ground project in New York has empowered contemporary descendants by giving them tangible, material evidence of their heritage and of the contributions and suffering of their once ignored, silenced, and disenfranchised ancestors (Blakey 1998). The passing of NAGPRA in the United States attempted to safeguard the interests of Native Americans with regard to their heritage. This has led to closer cooperation between archaeologists and Native Americans and to changes in archaeological method which involve Native American oral traditions and ritual observances within the scientific process (Watkins 2001; Wilcox 2009). The collaborative methods that have developed in North America as well as in Australia and other parts of the world parallel those developed in postprocessual and reflexive archaeology (see below under “Key Issues”). These indigenous and postcolonial archaeologies were not the product of post-processual archaeology, but they did create an environment in which post-processual theories could become salient. Post-Processual Archaeology Another important influence on the emergence of post-processual archaeology was debates within the philosophy of science that critiqued methods embraced by processual archaeology. Over many decades, philosophers of science have demonstrated the ways in which scientific knowledge production is situated historically. In cultural anthropology debates emerged about the ways in which ethnography involved complex interactions between observer and observed. But processual archaeology in the United States, perhaps because of its colonial context, rejected these post-positivist, interpretive, and reflexive moves. Initially some post-processual archaeologists took a strongly constructivist position although tempered with detailed empirical and quantitative research. Gradually through time various types of middle ground have been found between objectivist and constructivist positions (see “Key Issues” below). It is important to recognize the different contexts of post-processual archaeology in Europe (especially in Britain) and the United States. In Europe archaeology had always been linked to history, and so it responded less enthusiastically to processual archaeology and was consequently more ready to engage in its critique; this was especially true of Britain but also of Scandinavia. The major influences on post-processual archaeology in Britain were Bourdieu and Giddens and the post-structuralist debate. But in the United States, the major influences were feminism and Marxism, and the main initial impact was in historical archaeology. The archaeology of early societies and hunter-gatherers remained very tied to a universalizing approach. When cultural anthropology in the United States took a turn toward meaning, history, and reflexivity in the 1970s and 1980s, archaeologists shied away and took their own path, reinforcing a belief in behavioral universals and a restricted form of positivism. Cut off in this way from the intellectual trends that were influencing the growth of postprocessual archaeology, the reaction in the United States was initially very strident. Even today, post-processual archaeology in the United States is usually seen as an accompaniment to a continuing processual archaeology, whereas in 6077 P Britain the two approaches remain thought of as separate and opposing theoretical movements. As a result of its complex and contested history, post-processual archaeology today can be defined in two rather different ways. For some it remains a term used to describe the more constructivist positions championed by Shanks and Tilley in 1987and more popular in Britain and Europe. For others, and this is the way the term is used here, it has a broader definition incorporating a wide range of perspectives including feminism, Marxism, heritage, and indigenous archaeologies, as well as the variety of approaches to be discussed below. These approaches are held together loosely by their dialogue with contemporary social theory and by their acknowledgement of the historical dimensions of archaeological knowledge production. Key Issues As already noted, key early issues were that material culture is meaningfully and actively constituted. Semiotic, structuralist methods allowed archaeologists to explore the ways in which material culture has a meaning which goes beyond the physical properties and adaptive functions of an object and derives from the network of social strategies within which the object is embroiled. It is used by agents intentionally pursuing strategies and monitoring outcomes – even if the intentions are often not consciously understood and even if much material practice is routinized and produced by nondiscursive daily practices. The development of this perspective was heavily influenced by the “practice” and “structuration” theories developed by Bourdieu and Giddens where structure is the medium and the outcome of action. The emphasis on material culture being actively manipulated in order to legitimate or transform society was also found in Marxist-inspired archaeological studies in prehistoric Europe and in historical archaeology in the United States as well as in feminist archaeology. If material culture is always meaningfully constituted, then perhaps it can be seen as a text P P 6078 that is read (Hodder 1986 in Hodder & Hutson 2003). This idea has several attractive aspects. It puts the emphasis on the reader – on the notion that meaning does not reside in the object itself but in the way that the reader makes sense of that object. The “reader” here is both the past social actor and the present archaeologist. The reading metaphor foregrounds the fact that different people will read the same data differently, a tendency for which there is much historical evidence. The text metaphor encourages us to focus on context – “with text.” Rather than studying pottery and animal bones separate from each other and from their find context, the emphasis is placed on looking at pottery and animal bones and find circumstance in relation to each other. In each context there may be distinct or subtle changes of meaning. The text metaphor thus invites us to make use of the world of semiotics – the study of signs and the systems in which they are embedded. But there are also difficulties with the text metaphor when applied to material culture. In particular the meanings of material things are rarely arbitrary; they are usually grounded in the material and practical experience of the world. For example, the symbolism of gold is tied to its rarity and the effort needed to obtain it, as well as to its durability. In the 1990s, post-processual archaeologists began to react against the textual metaphor (see Hodder et al. 1995) and to explore the ways in which material meanings were practically engaged, embodied, and experienced. Again the influences were from theories of practice, but they also derived from the phenomenology of Heidegger and Merleau-Ponty, very successfully taken up in archaeology by Chris Gosden, Julian Thomas, Chris Tilley, and Bjørnar Olsen. Heidegger’s aim, writing mainly in the first half of the twentieth century, was to get away from the long tradition in philosophy and Western thought in which reality is some kind of substance that is approached by detached theoretical reflection. He wanted to get away from a perspective in which things were seen as separate from humans and instead wanted to start in the very midst of practical daily activities, Post-Processual Archaeology hammering in a nail, pouring water from a jug, and so on. Heidegger emphasized the practical everyday-ness of human existence by using the term “Dasein” (being there) instead of “human subject.” He also used the hyphenated phrase “being-in-the-world” to point to the ways in which humans are situated in and inseparable from the world that is around them and into which they are thrown and dwell. An important and highly influential use of phenomenology was Tilley’s (1994) work on landscape. He argued that our own embodied experiences of landscapes and monuments today must reveal to us something of the experiences of the people who once inhabited those same places in the past. The approach, as also in the work of Thomas and Barrett, has been very fruitful in encouraging archaeologists to explore how monuments and landscapes were made meaningful through their practical use. There are dangers since our responses as we walk through landscapes today are situated within our own beingsin-the-world. The approach asks archaeologists to consider how people moved round monuments and landscapes and how architecture and dwelling were embodied. Related issues deal with cultural and historical variation in how bodies, selves, and individuals are understood (Fowler 2004). For example, it is important to recognize that the atomized individual self is a Western product. Conceptions of individuals and body boundaries and the relationship between self and environment vary through time and space. Another important aspect of the involvement of material culture in our experience of the world is in memory construction (Van Dyke & Alcock 2003). Archaeologists often observe evidence of the holding on to objects (heirlooms) over long periods of time. They have evidence of people reusing earlier settlements, burial locations, or ritual spaces. They have evidence of people digging up earlier remains and commemorating events or erasing monuments. In all these ways archaeologists have access to the ways in which people have remembered or forgotten their pasts. Such engagements with the archaeology of memory today have special salience in contexts in which contemporary societies use Post-Processual Archaeology archaeology itself to deny histories or to foreground memories as part of post-conflict reconciliation and healing, whether in South Africa, Bosnia, or Argentina. Another key recent theme has been the focus on materiality. This derives partly from the approaches identified above but also from engagement with a wide range of material culture studies within anthropology, including the work of Miller, Gell, and Ingold. The emphasis remains on the constitution of self and identity, but the focus shifts to how things act in the world. There is much recent work that explores how materials are construed in different social settings and historical contexts (Joyce 2005). Things, matter, fluids, life, and death – all these are construed differently in different historical contexts. The study of materiality explores these cultural relationships, and the biographies of objects are pursued through varying social contexts. Meskell (2004: 7) notes how in Egypt past and present “persons exist and are constituted by their material world: subjects and objects could be said to be mutually fashioning and dependent.” Running through all these discussions in postprocessual archaeology about the ways in which things have meaning and play roles in social lives is the issue of agency. As noted above, the notion that material culture was actively used by people in pursuing discursive or nondiscursive strategies was a key early theme in post-processual archaeology, in reaction to the behaviorism of processual archaeology. The issue of agency has grown to be one of the central themes of postprocessual debate, and indeed it has come to be an important bridging concept to other approaches in the discipline (Dobres & Robb 2000). Agency is itself a complex process that needs to be broken down into its component parts. Different authors in archaeology refer to different aspects of agency. For example, Barrett (1994) mainly discusses the context for action – the fact that the actor has to be situated in relation to power/knowledge in order to have knowledge and resources to act. He discusses the mobilization of space and resources in prehistoric monuments in Britain in these terms. Many authors 6079 P focus on the resources needed for a social person to act in the world. A rather different approach argues that there is an intentionality to agency and that this intentionality cannot be reduced to the context for action. Of course, some intentions may be nondiscursive in the sense that actors may not be fully consciously aware of their motivations. Intentions need, therefore, to be interpreted. Archaeologists routinely make these interpretations. When claiming that a ditch is defensive or that a large wall around a settlement was built to provide prestige, intentions are imputed. The defensive nature of the ditch may be determined from its shape and size and position and from evidence of warfare and so on. The prestigious nature of the wall may derive from its nondefensive nature (in terms of construction material or location or effectiveness). Another form of intentional social action is resistance to dominant groups. Many archaeologists have sought to demonstrate that subordinate groups use material culture to counteract dominant forms of discourse. Any act can have intended and unintended consequences. Indeed another approach to agency takes the focus away from intentionality and focuses more closely on the impact of action on others and on the material world. In addition, the overall attention to the active components of material culture in phenomenology, memory, material culture, and materiality approaches has led to the notion that things too can have agency in the sense of having impact. Things can clearly act in the sense that a door closer closes the door after we have opened the door and walked through, as described by Bruno Latour. But they can also act in the sense that humans often give things powers, whether these powers be apotropaic, religious or spiritual, or involved in memory. It is important to return to the question of method. Many positivist archaeologists adhere to some notion of objective data and hypothesis testing because they fear that the only alternative is a form of relativism in which “anything goes.” In other words, they fear that if there is no possibility of objective testing, then anyone’s statement about the past is equally as good as P P 6080 anyone else’s. I know of no post-processual archaeologist who would take this line. There are various forms of relativism, and most archaeologists would accept that archaeological interpretation is and should be answerable to data. The question is really just a matter of “how.” Archaeology is not for the most part an experimental science in which variables can be held constant. Rather, it is, like geology, a historical science that works by fitting lots of different types of data together as best it can in order to make a coherent account (Hodder 1999). This emphasis on fitting rather than testing is at the heart of the hermeneutic or interpretive approach. Theories of interpretation place emphasis on making sense of the event in relation to what is going on around it while recognizing that generalizations have to be used. In the hermeneutic approach, it is recognized that the researcher comes to the data with much prior knowledge and prejudgments. The data are perceived within these prejudgments. The researcher then works by fitting all the data together so that the parts make up a coherent whole. The interpretation that works best both fits our general theories and prejudgments, and it makes most sense of more data than other interpretations. The process is not circular – that is, one does not just impose one’s prejudgments on the data. The objects of study can cause us to change our ideas, but never in a way divorced from society and from perspective. There is thus a dialectical (dialogical) relationship between past and present and between object and subject. There is never a socially neutral moment in the scientific process, but equally, socially biased accounts can be transformed by interaction with objects of study. Thus, like most archaeologists today, we have employed a broad battery of scientific techniques at Çatalhöyük (Hodder 1999). We are trying to do good science at Çatalhöyük and use a wide range of natural science techniques. We build arguments by using as many different crosscutting techniques as we can. But we are also aware of the ways in which our arguments are embedded in our own assumptions and starting points; we always have to be careful and vigilant about where our ideas are coming from. And we also Post-Processual Archaeology have to be aware that our assumptions and starting points may exclude the interests of others who come to Çatalhöyük with different perspectives. Early post-processual archaeology paid scant attention to method, and many post-processual archaeologists have continued to excavate and do research employing field methods developed in the heyday of processual archaeology. But in the late 1990s, a debate began to emerge about using field methods that were developed specifically for interpretive research. These reflexive methods (Hodder 1999) focus on encouraging multivocality, collaboration between different interest or stakeholder groups, and the documentation of the documentation process. By the latter is meant the recording of the assumptions and methods involved in research so that future researchers can return to the data and understand their conditions of production. Provision of such secondary documentation opens up the archaeological process to later critique and reanalysis. The embedding of archaeological science within the contemporary social process has been the most important aspect of post-processual archaeology. It has occurred at a time when archaeology has come to critique its dominant starting points and assumptions, for example, in response to feminism. During recent decades archaeology has also come to play an important role in postcolonial contexts as previously marginalized and dominated groups have used the past to regain rights to land and to legal existence. As noted above, post-processual archaeology is not the cause of these developments, but it has proved an effective ally for those seeking alternative pasts and for those wishing to break away from dominant narratives. The new collaborative methods employed in postcolonial, indigenous, and Native American archaeology are close to those used within this wider sphere. Post-processual archaeology has played a central role in the emergence of a theoretical heritage discourse. The past is often contested, and the material past is often key to the assertion of rights to land and recognition, as already noted. More widely, material heritage has been involved in conflicts throughout the world from Post-Processual Archaeology the destruction of the Bamiyan Buddhas to the destruction of the Mostar Bridge in Bosnia to the competing claims to the religious monuments in Jerusalem. In many countries, dealing with heritage has been central to post-conflict healing and reconciliation, as in South Africa after the end of apartheid. In all these cases the universal values of heritage (e.g., as defined by UNESCO) have to be weighed against local understandings and valences. The different interests of stakeholders have to be evaluated, and ethical positions debated. Increasingly the language of cultural rights and human rights in relation to heritage has been used. In all these ways, a postprocessual approach has been active in this area (Smith 2004; Meskell 2009). Current Debates/Future Directions Many of the key issues identified above are currently debated within archaeology, particularly the relevance of phenomenology, different approaches to agency, discussions of landscape, the body, memory, materiality, the links between archaeology and heritage, indigenous rights, and ethics. But there are increasingly attempts made to bridge the divide between processual and postprocessual archaeology. Several authors over the past two decades have argued for some blending of processual and post-processual approaches (e.g., Pauketat 2001). Today many people consider the processual/post-processual debate largely as historical, and they pick and choose between them pragmatically as seems appropriate. As a result one can today say that it is difficult to place many forms of archaeology firmly on one side of the debate rather than the other. Thus, one might argue that on the whole, cognitive processual approaches in archaeology as well as behavioral archaeology, human behavioral ecology, and evolutionary and complexity theory approaches tend to derive their heritage mainly from processual archaeology. On the other hand, a post-processual heritage is dominant for materiality studies, phenomenology, postcolonial and indigenous archaeologies, and in critical heritage 6081 P discourse. In practice each approach today borrows from or reacts to developments within other approaches. Links are recognized between complex systems and the historical contingencies described in much post-processual archaeology. Cognitive processual and phenomenological approaches seem equally engaged in problems of mind, perception, and materiality. Agency is a clear linking domain, central to materiality and postcolonial and indigenous archaeology as much as it is to complex systems, agent-based modeling, and evolutionary archaeology. Many archaeologists are increasingly concerned with one of the key issues of our time – the relationships between culture and biology – and their relative importance. Many try to find some integration, arguing that culture and biology are both central to the project of being human. Such developments are found, for example, in the dual inheritance approach within evolutionary archaeology but also within discussions of embodiment, materiality, and landscape. Both sides of the debate in archaeology increasingly aim to allow the play of biological processes within culture and society and within social change. International Perspectives As noted above, post-processual archaeology originated in Europe, especially in Britain and Scandinavia, and in the United States, especially in historical archaeology. It is clearly a Western discourse, tied to Western social theorists. On the other hand, its critique of the “one science” model and its recognition of the situated and historical dimensions of knowledge construction have meant that it has seemed relevant to archaeology in many parts of the world. A consideration of the wide global range of articles published in the Journal of Social Archaeology, or in Archaeologies, the journal of the World Archaeological Congress, demonstrates the wide global reach and diversity of interests encompassed by postprocessual archaeology. There are, however, regional variations in the debates regarding post-processual archaeology, and I have identified above the important P P 6082 differences between the development of the perspective in Europe (especially Britain) and in the United States. In the United States postprocessual and processual archaeologies are often seen as accompanying each other, whereas in Britain post-processual archaeology is often seen as dominant and opposed to other approaches. Another regional difference occurs in Latin America and in parts of Spain where materialist, Marxist approaches have dominated theoretical debate for some time. Here aspects of post-processual archaeology have often been folded into an archaeology already socially and politically engaged. In other parts of the world too, post-processual perspectives have often become relevant in varied forms as part of postcolonial, indigenous, and political movements. The success of the World Archaeology Congress has demonstrated the need for broad theoretical debate on a global scale. Cross-References ▶ Agency in Archaeological Theory ▶ Critical Theory in Archaeology ▶ Engendered Archaeologies ▶ Hodder, Ian (Theory) ▶ Ideology and Materiality in Archaeological Theory ▶ Indigenous Archaeologies ▶ Landscape Archaeology ▶ Phenomenology in Archaeology ▶ Postcolonial Archaeologies ▶ Post-Processualism, Development of ▶ Social Memory in Archaeological Theory References BARRETT, J. 1994. Fragments from antiquity: an archaeology of social life in Britain, 2900-1200 B. C. Oxford: Blackwell. BLAKEY, M. L. 1998. The New York African Burial Ground Project: an examination of enslaved lives, a construction of ancestral ties. Transforming Archaeology 7: 53-58. CONKEY, M. & J. GERO. (ed.) 1990. Engendering archaeology. Oxford: Blackwell. Post-Processual Archaeology DOBRES, M.-A. & J. ROBB. (ed.) 2000. Agency in archaeology. London: Routledge. ENGELSTAD, E. 1991. Images of power and contradiction: feminist theory and post-processual archaeology. Antiquity 65: 502-14. FOWLER, C. 2004. The archaeology of personhood: an anthropological approach. London: Routledge. HODDER, I. 1982a. Symbols in action. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. - (ed.) 1982b. Symbolic and structural archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. - 1999. The archaeological process. Oxford: Blackwell. HODDER, I. & S. HUTSON. 2003. Reading the past. Current approaches to interpretation in archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. HODDER, I., M. SHANKS, A. ALEXANDRI, V. BUCHLI, J. CARMAN, J. LAST & G. LUCAS. (ed.) 1995. Interpreting archaeology. London: Routledge. JOYCE, R.A. 2005. Archaeology of the body. Annual Review of Anthropology 34: 139-58. LEONE, M. 1982. Some opinions about recovering mind. American Antiquity 47: 742-60. MESKELL, L. 2004. Object worlds in ancient Egypt: material biographies past and present. Oxford: Berg. - 2009. Cosmopolitan archaeologies. Durham: Duke University Press. MILLER, D. & C. TILLEY. (ed.) 1984. Ideology, power and prehistory. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. PAUKETAT, T.R. 2001. Practice and history in archaeology. An emerging paradigm. Anthropological Theory 1, 73-98. SHANKS, M. & C. Tilley. 1987a. Re-constructing archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. - 1987b. Social theory and archaeology. Cambridge: Polity Press. SMITH, L.-J. 2004. Archaeological theory and the politics of cultural heritage. London: Routledge. TILLEY, C. 1994. A phenomenology of landscape: places, paths and monuments. London: Berg. TRIGGER, B 1984. Alternative archaeologies: nationalist, colonialist, imperialist. Man 19: 355-70. - 2006. A history of archaeological thought, 2nd edn. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. VAN DYKE, R. & S. E. ALCOCK. (ed.) 2003. Archaeologies of memory. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell. WATKINS, J. 2001. Indigenous archaeology. Walnut Creek: Altamira. WILCOX, M. 2009. The Pueblo revolt and the mythology of conquest: an indigenous archaeology of contact. Berkeley: University of California Press. Further Reading COLWELL-CHANTHAPHONH, C. & T. J. FERGUSON. (ed.) 2004. The collaborative continuum: archaeological engagements with descendent communities. Thousand Oaks: Altamira Press. HODDER, I. (ed.) 2012. Archaeological theory today. Cambridge: Polity Press. Post-Processualism, Development of HODDER, I. & S. HUTSON. 2003. Reading the past. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. JOHNSON, M. 2010. Archaeological theory: an introduction. Oxford: Blackwell. MESKELL, L. & R. PREUCEL. (ed.) 2004. Companion to social archaeology. Oxford: Blackwell. MCGUIRE, R. 2008. Archaeology as political action. Berkeley: University of California Press. PREUCEL, R.W. 2006. Archaeological semiotics. Oxford: Blackwell. PREUCEL, R. & S. MROZOWSKI. (ed.) 2010. Contemporary archaeology in theory: the new pragmatism. Oxford: Blackwell. UCKO, P. 1995. Theory in archaeology: a world perspective. Oxford: Routledge. WYLIE, A. 1989. Archaeological cables and tacking: the implications of practice for Bernstein’s ‘Options beyond objectivism and relativism’. Philosophy of Social Science 19: 1-18. Post-Processualism, Development of Ian Hodder Anthropology Department, Stanford University, Stanford, CA, USA 6083 P a wide range of approaches that engage with contemporary social theory and acknowledge the historical dimensions of knowledge production. These approaches have included discussions of power and ideology, feminism, shifts to and from the notion that material culture can be read as a text, discussions of phenomenology, accounts of agency, landscape, the body, memory, materiality, the links between archaeology and heritage, indigenous rights, and ethics. Post-processual archaeology can be defined in two rather different ways. For some it was a term used to describe the more constructivist positions championed by Shanks and Tilley in 1987 (and more popular in Britain and Europe). For others, and this is the way the term is used in this entry, it has a broader definition incorporating a wide range of perspectives including feminism, Marxism, heritage, and indigenous archaeologies as well as the variety of approaches discussed below. These approaches are held together loosely by their dialogue with contemporary social theory and by their acknowledgement of the historical development of archaeology as a scientific discipline. Introduction Post-processual archaeology initially developed in the 1980s in Britain, Scandinavia, and the United States as a response to processual archaeology and in particular in reaction to the lack of engagement of processual archaeology with contemporary social theory and the critique of positivism. After a period of controversy between processual and post-processual approaches in the 1980s and 1990s, many archaeologists have attempted to integrate aspects of both programs in their research. However, the epistemological differences remain and have led to the development of post-processual methods such as reflexive archaeology. Definition Post-processual archaeology began in the 1980s as a reaction to processual archaeology and it came to be used as an umbrella term covering Key Issues Early Development In the early 1980s, post-processual archaeologists identified a series of issues that were being debated in anthropology, the social sciences, and humanities but that had been closed off from archaeological discussion by processual archaeology. These issues concerned structures of power and structures of meaning, the role of agency, the central importance of history, and epistemological questions concerning the relationships between subjects and objects. The main influences were from social theory, debates concerning Marxism and structuralism, feminism, indigenous archaeology, and postcolonial critiques of western archaeology (Hodder 1982a, b; Leone 1982; Miller & Tilley 1984; Shanks & Tilley 1987a, b; Hodder & Hutson 2003). For a description of the early development of and influences upon P P 6084 post-processual archaeology, see the “▶ PostProcessual Archaeology” entry by Hodder in this encyclopedia. Post-processual archaeology developed differently in Europe (especially in Britain) and the United States. In Europe archaeology had always been linked to history and so it responded less enthusiastically to processual archaeology and was consequently more ready to engage in its critique; this was especially true of Britain but also of Scandinavia. The major influences on post-processual archaeology in Britain were Bourdieu and Giddens and the post-structuralist debate. But in the United States, the major influences were feminism and Marxism and the main initial impact was in historical archaeology. The archaeology of early societies and huntergatherers remained very tied to a universalizing approach. When cultural anthropology in the United States took a turn towards meaning, history, and reflexivity in the 1970s and 1980s, archaeologists shied away and took their own path, reinforcing a belief in behavioral universals and a restricted form of positivism. Cut off in this way from the intellectual trends that were influencing the growth of post-processual archaeology, the reaction in the United States was initially very strident. Even today, post-processual archaeology in the United States is usually seen as an accompaniment to a continuing processual archaeology, whereas in Britain the two approaches remain thought of as separate and opposing theoretical movements. Post-processual archaeology has often developed differently in different parts of the world. Another regional difference occurs in Latin America and in parts of Spain where materialist, Marxist approaches have dominated theoretical debate for some time. Here aspects of postprocessual archaeology have often been folded into an archaeology already socially and politically engaged. In other parts of the world too, post-processual perspectives have often become relevant in varied forms as part of postcolonial, indigenous, and political movements. The success of the World Archaeology Congress has demonstrated the need for broad theoretical debate on a global scale. Post-Processualism, Development of Developments in the 1990s An early post-processual tenet was that material culture is meaningfully and actively constituted. Semiotic, structuralist methods allowed archaeologists to explore the ways in which material culture has a meaning which goes beyond the physical properties and adaptive functions of an object, and derives from the network of social strategies within which the object is embroiled. Material culture is used by agents intentionally pursuing strategies and monitoring outcomes – even if the intentions are often not consciously understood and even if much material practice is routinized and produced by nondiscursive daily practices. The development of this perspective was heavily influenced by the “practice” and “structuration” theories developed by Bourdieu and Giddens where structure is the medium and the outcome of action. The emphasis on material culture being actively manipulated in order to legitimate or transform society was also found in Marxist-inspired archaeological studies in prehistoric Europe and in historical archaeology in the United States as well as in feminist archaeology. If material culture is always meaningfully constituted, then perhaps it can be seen as a text that is read (Hodder & Hutson 2003). This idea has several attractive aspects. It puts the emphasis on the reader – on the notion that meaning does not reside in the object itself, but in the way that the reader makes sense of that object. The “reader” here is both the past social actor and the present archaeologist. The reading metaphor foregrounds the fact that different people will read the same data differently, a tendency for which there is much historical evidence. The text metaphor encourages us to focus on context – “with text.” Rather than studying pottery and animal bones separate from each other and from their find context, the emphasis is placed on looking at pottery and animal bones and find circumstance in relation to each other. In each context there may be distinct or subtle changes of meaning. The text metaphor thus invites us to make use of the world of semiotics – the study of signs and the systems in which they are embedded. Post-Processualism, Development of The early development of post-processual archaeology had focused on the critique of processual archaeology. But in the 1990s, attempts began to be made to focus on the productive components of the theories being used and to offer a more coherent perspective in place of the diversity of views initially expressed. The emphasis on the interpretation of meaning allowed the label “interpretive archaeology” (Hodder et al. 1995). But the use of this term was short lived as it quickly became apparent that there are difficulties with the text or reading metaphor when applied to material culture. In particular, the meanings of material things are rarely arbitrary; they are usually grounded in the material and practical experience of the world. For example, the symbolism of gold is tied to its rarity and the effort needed to obtain it, as well as to its durability. In the 1990s, post-processual archaeologists began to react against the textual metaphor and to explore the ways in which material meanings were practically engaged, embodied, and experienced. Again the influences were from theories of practice, but they also derived from the phenomenology of Heidegger and Merleau-Ponty, very successfully taken up in archaeology by Chris Gosden, Julian Thomas, Chris Tilley, and Bjørnar Olsen. An important and highly influential use of phenomenology was Tilley’s (1994) work on landscape. He argued that our own embodied experiences of landscapes and monuments today must reveal to us something of the experiences of the people who once inhabited those same places in the past. The approach, as also in the work of Thomas and Barrett, has been very fruitful in encouraging archaeologists to explore how monuments and landscapes were made meaningful through their practical use. There are dangers with this method since our responses as we walk through landscapes today are situated within our own beings-in-the-world. The approach also asks archaeologists to consider how people moved around monuments and landscapes and how architecture and dwelling were embodied. Related issues deal with cultural and historical variation in how bodies, selves, and individuals are understood (Fowler 2004). For example, it is 6085 P important to recognize that the atomized individual self is a Western product. Conceptions of individuals and body boundaries and the relationship between self and environment vary through time and space. Early post-processual archaeology paid scant attention to method, and many post-processual archaeologists continued to excavate and do research employing field methods developed in the heyday of processual archaeology. But in the late 1990s, a debate began to emerge about using field methods that were developed specifically for post-processual research. These reflexive methods (Hodder 1999) focus on encouraging multivocality, collaboration between different interest or stakeholder groups, and the documentation of the documentation process. By the latter is meant the recording of the assumptions and methods involved in research so that future researchers can return to the data and understand their conditions of production. Provision of such secondary documentation opens up the archaeological process to later critique and reanalysis. The embedding of archaeological science within the contemporary social process has been the most important aspect of post-processual archaeology. It has occurred at a time when archaeology has come to critique its dominant starting points and assumptions, for example, in response to feminism. During recent decades, archaeology has also come to play an important role in postcolonial contexts as previously marginalized and dominated groups have used the past to regain rights to land and to legal existence. Post-processual archaeology is not the cause of these developments, but it has proved an effective ally for those seeking alternative pasts and for those wishing to break away from dominant narratives. The new collaborative methods (Colwell-Chanthaphonh & Ferguson 2004) employed in postcolonial, indigenous, and native American archaeology are close to those advocated in reflexive archaeology. Developments in the 2000s Another important aspect of the involvement of material culture in our experience of the world is in memory construction (Van Dyke & Alcock 2003). Archaeologists often observe evidence of P P 6086 the holding on to objects (heirlooms) over long periods of time. They have evidence of people reusing earlier settlements, burial locations, or ritual spaces. They have evidence of people digging up earlier remains and commemorating events or erasing monuments. In all these ways, archaeologists have access to the ways in which people have remembered or forgotten their pasts. Such engagements with the archaeology of memory today have special salience in contexts in which contemporary societies use archaeology itself to deny histories or to foreground memories as part of post-conflict reconciliation and healing, whether in South Africa, Bosnia, or Argentina. Another key recent theme has been the focus on materiality. This derives partly from the approaches identified above, but also from engagement with a wide range of material culture studies within anthropology, including the work of Miller, Gell, and Ingold. The emphasis remains on the constitution of self and identity, but the focus shifts to how things act in the world. There is much recent work that explores how materials are construed in different social settings and historical contexts (Joyce 2005). Things, matter, fluids, life, death – all these are construed differently in different historical contexts. The study of materiality explores these cultural relationships, and the biographies of objects are pursued through varying social contexts. Meskell (2004: 7) notes how in Egypt past and present “persons exist and are constituted by their material world: subjects and objects could be said to be mutually fashioning and dependent.” Post-processual archaeology has played a central role in the emergence of a theoretical heritage discourse. The past is often contested, and the material past is often key to the assertion of rights to land and recognition. More widely, material heritage has been involved in conflicts throughout the world from the destruction of the Bamiyan Buddhas to the destruction of the Mostar Bridge in Bosnia to the competing claims to the religious monuments in Jerusalem. In many countries, dealing with heritage has been central to post-conflict healing and reconciliation, as in South Africa after the end of apartheid. In all these cases the universal values of heritage Post-Processualism, Development of (as defined for example by UNESCO) have to be weighed against local understandings and valences. The different interests of stakeholders have to be evaluated and ethical positions debated. Increasingly the language of cultural rights and human rights in relation to heritage has been used. In all these ways, a postprocessual approach has been active in this area (L-J Smith 2004; Meskell 2009). Increasingly attempts are being made to bridge the divide between processual and postprocessual archaeology. Certainly different traditions of research have been sustained. Thus one might argue that on the whole cognitive processual approaches in archaeology as well as behavioral archaeology, human behavioral ecology, evolutionary, and complexity theory approaches tend to derive their heritage mainly from processual archaeology. On the other hand, a post-processual heritage is dominant for materiality studies, phenomenology, postcolonial and indigenous archaeologies, and in critical heritage discourse. Indeed it is possible to argue that the genealogies of current approaches can be traced to three general perspectives: culture history, processual, and post-processual as shown in Fig. 1. Despite some blending and slippage to be discussed below, in origin each theoretical position seems to see itself as largely in one or other of these camps. By culture history, I mean approaches in archaeology that are concerned with the descent and affiliation of ceramic and other types through time. The differences between processual and post-processual archaeology have increasingly become aligned with the wider divisions within contemporary intellectual life between universal rationalism and positivism on the one hand and contextual, critical reflexivity on the other. Many approaches in archaeology are less clearly assignable to one approach or the other. For example, while feminist, Marxist, and indigenous archaeologies can be claimed to be part of post-processual archaeology (Hodder & Hutson 2003), others argue for independent positions for these perspectives (Moss 2005). However one cuts the cake, most archaeologists are aware of Post-Processualism, Development of Culture history Dual Inheritance 6087 Processual cognitive HBE behavioral P Postprocessual complexity agency materiality symmetry phenomenology postcolonial indigenous social representation Post-Processualism, Development of, Fig. 1 One possible view of the historical relationships between some of the current theoretical approaches in archaeology deep differences between approaches in which actors act rationally according to universal principles (optimizing or minimizing) and those in which activity is meaningfully and socially produced in complex historical and cultural contexts; and they equate the former with positivism and hypothesis testing and the latter with some form of critical reflexive science. These different perspectives and their multiple subdivisions as shown in Fig. 1 are linked to different sites of the production of archaeological knowledge. There are clear underlying differences between the types of interests and questions of those using general evolutionary approaches and those concerned with history and agency. Evolutionary and human behavioral ecology tend to focus on smaller, more egalitarian societies including hunter-gatherers and fishers. Issues of power and agency are most easily dealt with in larger historical societies with complex or hierarchical social structures. Theories of memory construction and cultural rights to the past most readily engage materiality and heritage studies. Phenomenological approaches seem easiest to apply in prehistoric landscape studies. More generally, colonial archaeologies as in the United States seem most wedded to universalizing, behavioral approaches, while postcolonial contexts, as in the rise of indigenous archaeology in the United States and elsewhere, readily lead to critical, historicizing, and collaborative perspectives. Despite these differences, several authors over the past two decades have argued for some blending of processual and post-processual approaches (e.g., Wylie 1989; Pauketat 2001; Hegmon 2003) though not without critique (Moss 2005). Today many archaeologists consider the processual/post-processual debate largely as historical and they pick and choose between them pragmatically as seems appropriate. Renfrew (1994) has talked of reaching an accommodation between processual and postprocessual archaeology in cognitive processual archaeology. Kohler (2012) suggests that current approaches to complex systems incorporate critiques of a simple positivism and he refers to Bintliff’s (2008) argument that complexity theory integrates culture historical, processual, and post-processual perspectives. Schiffer (2010: 154) says that in the 1990s, he and others “sought to revitalize the behavioral program by adopting some post-processual research questions.” This task was approached by applying the behavioral approach to ritual and religion, symbolic behavior, social power, and landscapes. For example, Walker (1995) examined the material, behavioral practices of ritual rather than the belief systems involved. The life histories of ritual artifacts were seen as leading to particular modes of deposition. In practice today, each approach borrows from or reacts to developments within other approaches and these connections are depicted in Fig. 1. Links are recognized between complex systems and the historical contingencies described in much post-processual archaeology. Cognitive processual and phenomenological approaches seem equally engaged in problems P P 6088 of mind, perception, and materiality. Agency is a clear linking domain, central to materiality and postcolonial and indigenous archaeology as much as it is to complex systems, agent-based modeling, and evolutionary archaeology. Many archaeologists are increasingly concerned with one of the key issues of our time – the relationships between culture and biology, and their relative importance. Many try to find some integration, arguing that culture and biology are both central to the project of being human. Such developments are found, for example, in the dual inheritance approach within evolutionary archaeology but also within discussions of embodiment, materiality, and landscape. Both sides of the debate in archaeology increasingly aim to allow the play of biological processes within culture and society and within social change. Remaining Epistemological Differences Despite all the evidence of increased interaction and accommodation between those approaches with processual and post-processual affinities, an apparent epistemological and methodological divide remains. Most of those in the United States who remain uncomfortable with the social theoretical questions posed in various forms of postprocessual archaeology do so because they believe that post-processual archaeology threatens science in some way. Thus, Schiffer (2010: 155) argues that many behavioral archaeologists have adopted the research foci of postprocessual archaeology and that they will place them “on a scientific foundation.” Renfrew’s concern in developing a cognitive processual archaeology resulted from similar fears. What, then, are these key epistemological differences? Most processual archaeologists espouse some version of positivism and adhere to some notion of objective data and hypothesis testing because they fear that the only alternative is a form of relativism in which “anything goes.” In other words, they fear that if there is no possibility of objective testing, then anyone’s statement about the past is equally as good as anyone else’s. I know of no post-processual archaeologist who would take this “anything goes” line. There are various forms of relativism, Post-Processualism, Development of and most archaeologists would accept that archaeological interpretation is and should be answerable to data. The question is really just a matter of “how.” Archaeology is not for the most part an experimental science in which variables can be held constant. Rather, it is, like geology, an historical science that works by fitting lots of different types of data together as best it can in order to make a coherent account (Hodder 1999). This emphasis on fitting rather than testing is at the heart of the hermeneutic or interpretive approach. Theories of interpretation place emphasis on making sense of the event in relation to what is going on around it while recognizing that generalizations have to be used. In the hermeneutic approach, it is recognized that the researcher comes to the data with much prior knowledge and pre-understandings. The data are perceived within these preunderstandings. The researcher then works by fitting all the data together so that the parts make up a coherent whole. The interpretation that works best both fits our general theories and pre-understandings, and it makes most sense of more data than other interpretations. The process is not circular – i.e., one does not just impose one’s pre-understandings on the data. The objects of study can cause us to change our ideas, but never in a way divorced from society and from perspective. There is thus a dialectical (dialogical) relationship between past and present and between object and subject. There is never a socially neutral moment in the scientific process, but equally, socially biased accounts can be transformed by interaction with objects of study. But is there a real difference in practice between the processual positivist approach and the post-processual critical, dialectic, or hermeneutic approach? Is there any real difference between hypothesis testing and the hermeneutic spiral? The positivist view of science is that hypotheses are tested against data; they are confirmed or contradicted by the data, leading to new hypotheses which are themselves open to scrutiny and testing in the same way. In the hermeneutic spiral, the archaeologist starts with pre-understandings, evaluates the data to see how Post-Processualism, Development of much fit there is, recognizes that the data do not all fit, and accommodates understandings, leading to new evaluations of fit. In practice these two approaches seem identical, except that the terms fit and test, understanding, and hypothesis are different. So is all the fuss about nothing? Is the difference between the two approaches really about the choice of words and about how science is described? Both approaches claim to be scientific, so are the differences just about how science is understood? In many ways the differences have been overdrawn in the archaeological debate over recent decades. In many discussions, the use of analytical or natural science techniques has been associated with positivist science, even though many historians of science would today argue against a positivist account of science. Postprocessual archaeologists have used scientific techniques without adhering to a positivist framework. But apparent differences remain. Within a positivist hypothesis-testing framework, the main emphasis is placed on the role of objective and independent data. Wherever the hypothesis comes from, the data will allow the selection of the hypothesis that best fits. But within a hermeneutic framework, the pre-understandings play a significant role. They determine how the data are seen in the first place. However much fitting/ testing is carried out, the pre-understandings exert an influence. A clear example is the way in which Neolithic polished stone axes were for centuries thought to be thunder bolts. Within such a pre-understanding, it was not possible to develop hypotheses about how effective the “thunder bolt” was in woodworking. Such a hypothesis could only be entertained when the pre-understanding shifted and the “thunder bolt” was seen as an axe. Many pre-understandings derive from specific historical contexts of the production of knowledge. It is necessary for these pre-understandings to be critiqued at the same time as fitted to/tested against data. As a result, differences remain between the social engagement of post-processual archaeology and the trust in a distanced objective science in processual archaeology. 6089 P Conclusion Çatalhöyük, where we have been conducting excavations since 1995, is a Neolithic site in Central Anatolia. Like most archaeologists today, we have employed a broad battery of scientific techniques in our attempt to understand life at this site in the distant past (Hodder 1999). We are trying to do good science at Çatalhöyük and use a wide range of natural science techniques. We build arguments by using as many different crosscutting techniques as we can. But we are also aware of the ways in which our arguments are embedded in our own assumptions and starting points; we always have to be careful and vigilant about where our ideas are coming from. And we also have to be aware that our assumptions and starting points may exclude the interests of others who come to Çatalhöyük with different perspectives. So, in the end, despite the attempt by many to argue that processual and post-processual archaeology are developing close ties and common research questions, there remain important differences in terms of the role of the archaeologist in society. Although there are exceptions, on the whole the approaches identified in Fig. 1 as processual remain committed to the analytical process as the sole sphere of a scientific process. On the other hand, those approaches identified as post-processual tend to be more ready to describe the scientific process as both analytical and at the same time responsive to critical reflection. Cross-References ▶ Agency in Archaeological Theory ▶ Critical Theory in Archaeology ▶ Engendered Archaeologies ▶ Hodder, Ian (Theory) ▶ Ideology and Materiality in Archaeological Theory ▶ Indigenous Archaeologies ▶ Landscape Archaeology ▶ Phenomenology in Archaeology ▶ Postcolonial Archaeologies ▶ Post-Processual Archaeology ▶ Social Memory in Archaeological Theory P P 6090 Post-Second Temple Judaism Archaeology References VAN DYKE, R. & S.E. ALCOCK. (ed.) 2003. Archaeologies of memory. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell. WALKER, W.H. 1995. Ceremonial trash? in J.M. Skibo, W.H. Walker & E.E. Nielson (ed.) Expanding archaeology: 67-79. Salk Lake City: University of Utah Press. WYLIE, A. 1989 Archaeological cables and tacking: the implications of practice for Bernstein’s ‘Options beyond objectivism and relativism’. Philosophy of Social Science 19: 1-18. BINTLIFF, J. 2008. History and continental approaches, in R.A. Bentley, H.D.G. Maschner & C. Chippindale (ed.) Handbook of archaeological theories: 147-64. Lanham: Altamira. COLWELL-CHANTHAPONH, C. & T.J. FERGUSON. (ed.) 2004. The collaborative continuum: archaeological engagements with descendent communities. Thousand Oaks: Altamira Press. FOWLER, C. 2004. The archaeology of personhood: an anthropological approach. London: Routledge. HEGMON, M. 2003. Setting theoretical egos aside: issues and theory in North American archaeology. American Antiquity 68(2): 213-43. HODDER, I. 1982a. Symbols in action. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. - (ed.) 1982b. Symbolic and structural archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. - 1999. The archaeological process. Oxford: Blackwell. HODDER, I. & S. HUTSON. 2003. Reading the past: current approaches to interpretation in archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. HODDER, I., M. SHANKS, A. ALEXANDRI, V. BUCHLI, J. CARMAN, J. LAST & G. LUCAS. (ed.) 1995. Interpreting archaeology. London: Routledge. JOYCE, R. 2005. Archaeology of the body. Annual Review of Anthropology 34: 139-58. KOHLER, T. 2012. Complex systems and archaeology, in I Hodder (ed.) Archaeological theory today: 93-123. Cambridge: Polity Press. LEONE, M. 1982. Some opinions about recovering mind. American Antiquity 47: 742-60. MESKELL, L. 2004. Object worlds in ancient Egypt: material biographies past and present. Oxford: Berg. - 2009. Cosmopolitan archaeologies. Durham: Duke University Press. MILLER, D. & C. TILLEY. (ed.) 1984. Ideology, power and prehistory. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. MOSS, M.L. 2005. Rifts in the theoretical landscape of archaeology in the United States: a comment on Hegmon and Watkins. American Antiquity 70(3): 581-7. PAUKETAT, T.R. 2001. Practice and history in archaeology: an emerging paradigm. Anthropological Theory 1: 73-98. RENFREW, C. 1994. Towards a cognitive archaeology, in C. Renfrew & E.B.W. Zubrow (ed.) The ancient mind: elements of cognitive archaeology: 3-12. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. SCHIFFER, M.B. 2010. Behavioral archaeology: principles and practice. London: Equinox. SHANKS, M. & C. TILLEY. 1987a. Re-constructing archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. - 1987b. Social theory and archaeology. Cambridge: Polity Press. SMITH, L.-J. 2004. Archaeological theory and the politics of cultural heritage. Routledge: London. TILLEY, C. 1994. A phenomenology of landscape: places, paths and monuments. London: Berg. Further Reading HODDER, I. (ed.) 2012. Archaeological theory today. Cambridge: Polity Press. JOHNSON, M. 2010. Archaeological theory: an introduction. Oxford: Blackwell. MESKELL, L. & R. PREUCEL. (ed.) 2004. Companion to social archaeology. Oxford: Blackwell. MCGUIRE, R. 2008. Archaeology as political action. Berkeley: University of California Press. PREUCEL, R. 2006. Archaeological semiotics. Oxford: Blackwell. PREUCEL, R. & S. MROZOWSKI. (ed.) 2010. Contemporary archaeology in theory: the new pragmatism. Oxford: Blackwell. UCKO, P. 1995. Theory in archaeology: a world perspective. Oxford: Routledge. Post-Second Temple Judaism Archaeology Steven H. Werlin Independent Researcher, New Haven, CT, USA Introduction Post-Second Temple Archaeology emerged as a result of early twentieth-century discoveries. Prior to that time, the scholarly consensus followed the traditional view that with the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 CE, the Jewish people were scattered among the nations and ceased to be an archaeologically relevant group in ancient Palestine. Early archaeological surveys by European scholars brought to light a wealth of evidence suggesting that Jews continued to thrive as cohesive communities, especially in the northern part of the country, that is, Galilee and the Golan Heights. Survey evidence appeared in the Post-Second Temple Judaism Archaeology form of synagogue structures, architectural fragments decorated with Jewish motifs, and inscriptions in Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek. In addition, important discoveries at sites such as Beth She‘arim, Beth Alpha, Hammath Tiberias, and Dura-Europos in Syria paved the way for a new field of Jewish Archaeology (Fine 2005). Often considered a subfield of Roman and Byzantine Archaeology, Art History, or Jewish Studies, the archaeology of post-70 Judaism typically has been approached either through the lens of other cultures (Roman and Byzantine Christian) or within the framework of Jewish history. Definition The Second Temple period effectively ended with the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 CE. Although a few post-70 events, such as the siege of Masada, are treated as part of Second Temple Archaeology, the capture of Judaism’s capital and holy city, as well as the destruction of the Jewish Temple, brought the First Jewish Revolt against the Romans (66–70 CE) to a close. The end of political autonomy for the Jews and the loss of Judaism’s central religious institution mark a watershed in Jewish history that according to the traditional view inaugurated the Rabbinic period. As a result of discoveries relating to the Second Jewish or Bar-Kokhba Revolt (132–135 CE), some archaeologists and historians have reassessed this periodization, suggesting that 135 CE was a greater turning point in the history of the Jewish people. The use of the term “Rabbinic period” presupposes the rise and ultimate hegemony of the rabbinic class in Jewish society. Rabbis are commonly understood as religious scholars and teachers. The theological precepts of the ancient rabbis are known through their extensive corpus of religious literature composed, edited, and redacted between the end of the Second Temple period and the medieval period. The earliest post70 rabbis are known as Tannaim, and so their works, written primarily in Hebrew, are known as “Tannaitic” literature. The most important 6091 P Tannaitic work is the Mishnah, edited in the early third century. The second and third centuries are often referred to therefore as the Mishnaic or Tannaitic period by historians, rabbinicists, and archaeologists. The successors of the Tannaim are referred to as the Amoraim, and their works, written primarily in Aramaic, are known as “Amoraic” literature. The most important Amoraic work is the Gemara, a detailed commentary on the Mishnah. These two works together comprise the Talmud. The fourth and sixth centuries are occasionally referred to as the Amoraic period. More often, the entirety of this period between the second and sixth centuries is termed the “Talmudic period.” The Rabbinic or Talmudic period corresponds with the nebulous term Late Antiquity. In Palestine, these centuries include the Late Roman period (mid-second to mid-fourth centuries) and the Byzantine period (mid-fourth to early seventh centuries). Some Late Ancient studies of Jews in Palestine include the beginning of the Early Islamic period as well. The Early Islamic period in Palestine is sometimes divided into the Umayyad period (mid-seventh to mid-eighth centuries) and the Abbasid period (mid-eighth to mid-ninth centuries). The geographic scope of Judaism in the post-70 period is fairly broad. The homeland of the Jewish people was ancient Palestine, alternatively known as the Land of Israel or Judea, depending on the source. By the late Hellenistic period (second century BCE), Jews had begun to emigrate to lands all over the Mediterranean and Near East. Writing in the years following the First Jewish Revolt, Flavius Josephus indicates that Jews inhabited virtually every major city of the Roman Empire. It is traditionally assumed that the failure of the First Jewish Revolt exacerbated the dispersion of Jews beyond Palestine, although some now believe that the failure of the BarKokhba Revolt 65 years later played a greater role. Archaeologically, Diaspora Judaism is best attested by a dozen or so synagogues and burials throughout the Mediterranean Basin (see below), with very little material remains from the large communities in Babylonia known from the historical sources. P P 6092 Historical Background In 70 CE, the Roman army, under the command of Flavius Titus, besieged and ultimately captured Jerusalem, officially ending the First Jewish Revolt. The city’s Temple, which served as the religious and political epicenter of Judaism, was destroyed in the process. To suppress further flares of insurrection, the Tenth Roman Legion (Fretensis) encamped on the ruins of the city, expelling all inhabitants. This loss was detrimental to Jewish society. Not only did Jerusalem serve as the political and cultural capital, but, as the home of the only Jewish Temple, it was the sole locus of worship, that is, sacrifice, to the God of Israel. Scholars traditionally have maintained that the Jerusalem priesthood, which enjoyed religious and political hegemony in Judaism, ceased to function in its official capacity, since sacrifices could no longer be made. Recent scholarship though has considered a possible reemergence or continuation of the priesthood in a more authoritative capacity beyond 70 CE than has been assumed (see below). As a consequence of the revolt, the Romans established the province of Judea, thereby introducing permanently stationed troops into the country and direct administration by the Roman military. The end of Jewish political autonomy in part led to a second revolt, led by Simeon bar Kosiba, known by the messianic title Bar-Kokhba (or “Son of a Star”) in 132–135 CE The literary sources for the Bar-Kokhba Revolt are very meager, especially compared to the detailed accounts of the First Jewish Revolt. Most information has been gleaned from numismatic evidence and correspondence documents uncovered in the rebels’ refuge caves in the Judean Desert (Yadin 1971). Some scholars believe that the Jewish rebels succeeded in capturing Jerusalem during the revolt, a presumed goal, although the evidence is not conclusive. In any case, the revolt was finally suppressed in 135 or 136. As punishment, Hadrian forbade Jews to inhabit the region surrounding Jerusalem, refounding the city as the Greco-Roman polis of Aelia Capitolina. In addition, the province was renamed Palaestina Post-Second Temple Judaism Archaeology following the term used by the Greek historian Herodotus, based on the biblical Philistines who lived along the southern coast and western lowlands of the country during the Iron Age. Following the two failed revolts, the majority of the Jewish population migrated northward to Galilee. With the loss of the Jerusalem Temple, Judaism faced a theological dilemma of how and where to worship. By most accounts, Jewish religious life became increasingly centered around the synagogue, or “meeting house,” for communal worship (Levine 2005). While the primary means of Jewish worship during the Second Temple period was sacrifice in the Jerusalem Temple, personal and communal liturgy and Torah reading became increasingly important and standardized in the post-70 era. It was during this time that rabbinic literature flourished as the written records of debates surrounding the proper means (halakhah) of observing each biblical commandment (mitzvah). Over the following centuries, these works were edited and embellished with commentary and tangential anecdotes (haggadah), thus providing perspectives on Jewish life. Unfortunately, the highly redacted rabbinic documents amount to a tangled web of details from different lands over the course of a half-millennium, and so they are highly problematic sources for historically reliable information. The difficulty of the historical sources muddles our picture of Jewish society somewhat during Late Antiquity. One area of perennial debate among scholars is the extent and definition of the “rabbis.” The most traditional view is that the rabbis comprised a class of religious scholars and sages who effectively led Jewish society. Critical views, however, contest that this group was marginal in reality and that they merely portray themselves as authoritative in their literary works (Schwartz 2001; Levine 2011). Similarly, recent studies have questioned what role Jewish priests may have played in this period, especially since archaeological discoveries point to priestly and Temple-related concerns in Late Ancient synagogues (see below). Rabbinic literature further attests to the existence of a Jewish Patriarch, seated in the urban centers of Lower Post-Second Temple Judaism Archaeology Galilee until the early fifth century. While the role of this figure has been debated, it is generally believed that this official facilitated interaction between the Roman government and Jewish populace with a tenuous sanction by prominent rabbis. Another recurrent theme in the study of post-70 Judaism is interaction with non-Jews. The proliferation of Greco-Roman culture in Palestine from the first century onward was conceived by many ancient authors as a challenge to the traditional observance of Judaism. However, as archaeological discoveries and critical readings of the rabbinic texts have shown, Jews found themselves increasingly comfortable with displays of figural art, Roman civic institutions, and even the worship of polytheistic deities by non-Jews within their cities. The rise of Christendom in the fourth century posed a new challenge by a faith that claimed the same biblical tradition as the Jews. Between the fourth and seventh centuries, Palestine underwent a demographic shift that brought the majority of inhabitants under a single religious identity. The heretofore neglected province was thrust onto the international stage, as royal endowments catalyzed the construction of churches and monasteries, as well as an influx of pilgrims to the “Holy Land.” Despite the theological and social challenge of Christianity, Jews apparently flourished amid the resulting economic boom, building the most elaborate synagogues the country had ever seen or would again until the modern era. Palestine’s prosperity flagged with the Byzantine wars against the Sassanian Persians in the early seventh century. The weakened political and economic circumstances set the stage for the relative ease of the Islamic Conquest of Palestine (636–640). Evidence from several synagogues in both Galilee and the southern part of the country suggests that Jews continued to live in Palestine much as they had under Byzantine Christian rule. While there is little evidence to support the notion that Jews faired any worse under the Umayyad or Abbasid caliphates, the archaeological evidence suggests that the boom of synagogue construction seen in the Byzantine period had come to an end. 6093 P Key Issues/Current Debates There can be little doubt that synagogue studies dominate the archaeology of post-70 Judaism. Between 60 and 70 individual synagogue buildings dating to the Late Roman and Byzantine periods have been identified in Palestine and the Diaspora. Additional evidence in the form of decorated architectural fragments and inscriptions removed from context attests to dozens, if not hundreds, more synagogues that existed in antiquity (Milson 2007). (Several Samaritan synagogues have also been uncovered, though despite their similarity in form to Jewish synagogues, they remain part of a distinct religious tradition). Considerable debate has erupted over the past few decades concerning the dates of the earliest post-70 synagogues. Rabbinic literature attests to the existence of the synagogue as an institution during the second–third centuries, but there is very little archaeological evidence of synagogues prior to the fourth century (Gal 1995; Ma‘oz 1999; Magness 2001; Milson 2007: 22-30). The apparent gap in the archaeological record of the second–third-century synagogue is most likely due to the nature of the building during the Late Roman period. That is to say, synagogues probably were modest and unimposing structures, in the style known from Second Temple period sites such as Masada and Gamla. As a result, they are difficult to find in the archaeological record. The only example with an uncontested mid-thirdcentury date comes from Dura-Europos, where a synagogue was modified from a private home rather than a purpose-built monumental structure and preserved due to an unusual set of circumstances (see below). In any case, the height of monumental synagogue building in Palestine appears to begin in the fourth century and continue into the sixth century, although many synagogues remained in use into the seventh century or later (Milson 2007). Some synagogues were built as Roman basilicas, with an internal colonnade and triportal façade on the Jerusalem-oriented wall. This type of synagogue is sometimes referred to as the “Galilean” type, after its primary region of P P 6094 occurrence. Important examples of Galilean-type synagogues include the sites of Capernaum, Bar‘am, Meiron, Arbel, Gush Halav, Chorazin, and Nabratein (Kohl & Watzinger 1916; Corbo et al. 1972-2007; Meyers et al. 1981; Meyers et al. 1990; Yeivin 2000; Meyers & Meyers 2009). These synagogues were typically paved with flagstones and decorated with stone relief work. Alternatively, during this same period, Jews constructed synagogues that resembled church architecture more closely, often laid out as a colonnaded hall with an apse on the Jerusalem-oriented wall and preceded by a narthex and atrium, most of which was paved in decorative mosaics. Important examples of this type of synagogue include Beth Alpha in Lower Galilee and Na‘aran in the lower Jordan Valley (Sukenik 1932). Most synagogues, however, did not follow a standard layout, a point which has been underscored through discoveries and studies over the past few decades. Despite early attempts by archaeologists to create a synagogue typology and identify standardized architecture (Avi-Yonah 1978), less regularly planned synagogues such as at Hammath Tiberias, Khirbet Shema‘, En-Gedi, Sepphoris, and elsewhere have demonstrated the diversity of synagogue architecture (Dothan 1983-2000; Meyers et al. 1976; Barag 1993; Weiss 2005). These synagogues included apses and niches, courtyards and forecourts, or mosaics and relief works as the local communities and architects saw fit. In this way, the overall picture differs somewhat from the more standardized church architecture of Byzantine Palestine, perhaps a reflection of the decentralization of post-70 Judaism. The synagogue discoveries of the early twentieth century uncovered an unexpected wealth of Jewish art. The earliest finds by the German survey team of Heinrich Kohl and Carl Watzinger in 1905–1906 showed that Jews decorated their buildings with stone relief using some of the same motifs and styles as Classical architecture (Kohl & Watzinger 1916). Likewise, the discoveries at Dura-Europos, Na‘aran, and Beth Alpha demonstrated the breadth of Jewish representational art in the form of wall paintings and mosaic Post-Second Temple Judaism Archaeology pavements (Sukenik 1932; Kraeling 1956). Again, these works utilized Greco-Roman and Byzantine motifs and styles, including animal representation, the Zodiac cycle, and even depictions of the sun god, Helios. Alongside nonJewish or religiously neutral themes were biblical scenes and motifs referencing Jewish liturgical practices and sacred occasions, such as the ram’s horn (shofar) used in the celebration of the New Year (Rosh Hashanah), the bound branches and citron (lulav and etrog) used during the Festival of Tabernacles (Sukkot), and the Torah Shrine façade depicting the elaborately decorated closet in which the synagogue’s biblical scrolls were stored. (Alternatively, some have interpreted the Torah Shrine façade as a representation of the Jerusalem Temple, while others have argued that it is a symbolic reference to both the Torah and the Temple at the same time, Hachlili 1988: 272-80). The most important Jewish motif used during this period was the seven-branched candelabrum or menorah. Based on the decorative furniture described in the Bible and later used in the Jerusalem Temple, the menorah became a symbol of Judaism in Late Antiquity. Although a few depictions of the menorah appear as early as the late Second Temple period, the use of the motif as an ethnic identifier and Jewish symbol became widespread in the fourth century, coinciding with the rise of the cross as the identifying mark of Christianity (Hachlili 2001). Among the most important testaments to the wealth of synagogue art comes from Syria, at the site of Dura-Europos on the Euphrates River (Kraeling 1956). The building itself is rather unremarkable, but the interior walls were richly decorated with wall paintings depicting a variety of biblical scenes. The walls in the Dura-Europos synagogue were preserved because the building was filled with earth as a defense measure during the city’s siege by the Persians in the mid-third century. The scenes depict figures and scenes from the Hebrew Bible, melding Late Roman and Persian styles. Beyond the synagogue, Jewish art found an important outlet in funerary contexts. The most notable Jewish cemetery is the necropolis of Beth Post-Second Temple Judaism Archaeology She‘arim in Galilee, where Jewish burials of the third–sixth centuries were identified on the basis of inscriptions in Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek (Mazar et al. 1973-76). Relief carvings on sarcophagi and tomb walls include Jewish symbols, such as the menorah, as well as animals, human faces, and even a scene from Greco-Roman mythology. The inscriptions identify several of the interred as rabbis and indicate that some came from the Diaspora. These archaeological discoveries of Jewish art came as a surprise to scholars of rabbinics and Jewish history in the early and mid-twentieth century. The rabbinic treatment of the Second Commandment (Ex. 20: 4–6) suggests that Jews adhered to a strict forbiddance of figural imagery, that is, representations of living creatures, especially the human form (Fine 2005; Levine 2011). Depictions of animals, biblical scenes, and GrecoRoman mythological beings would seem to contradict the traditional view of ancient Judaism. Archaeologists and historians have grappled with this dilemma for a century. Among the most thorough studies was that of E. R. Goodenough. Based in part on the richly decorated walls of the DuraEuropos synagogue, Goodenough proposed that a form of “Hellenistic Judaism,” running counter to rabbinic traditions, was responsible for such lavish decoration (Goodenough 1953-65). Although few scholars accepted Goodenough’s overall thesis, the notion that alternative forms of Judaism existed in the ancient world was intriguing. The representations of liturgical paraphernalia – such as the lulav, etrog, and shofar (see above) – led some to identify deliberate references to the Jerusalem Temple. Archaeological evidence has been cited to demonstrate that the Temple’s former priesthood, once the dominant religious group in Jewish society, became influential in the synagogue during Late Antiquity. The priestly connection is supported by several inscriptions citing donations made by priests and two plaques listing the priestly courses (mishmarot) known from the biblical book of Chronicles. On the other hand, there is evidence that rabbinic attitudes toward figural imagery adjusted to accommodate the realities of their world. 6095 P Scholars have pointed to rabbinic expositions of biblical texts that incorporate the meanings expressed in the artistic traditions of the synagogue. Other studies have interpreted artistic programs – that is, individual panels or units in a building’s art that are “read” as a unified message – in synagogue art through the lens of rabbinic literature. The most detailed example of this method comes from the final report of the Sepphoris synagogue (Weiss 2005). These studies favor a maximalist position regarding rabbinic participation in the synagogue. More telling, however, is the Rehov synagogue, where an extended inscription – the longest ever found in a synagogue – quotes a passage known from rabbinic literature. The passage concerns the agricultural regulations pertaining to tithing and the Jewish seven-year sabbatical cycle. Over the last decade, an important challenge to the traditional history of Jewish society in the post-70 era was proposed by Seth Schwartz. Schwartz suggested that Judaism all but collapsed in the wake of the failure of the Bar-Kokhba Revolt (132–135 CE), and Jewish society succumbed to the Greco-Roman cultural matrix, abandoning the religious practices developed over the course of the Second Temple period. According to Schwartz, Judaism reemerged in the mid-fourth century, as Christianity became dominant in Palestine and forced a more exclusive form of worship than its polytheistic predecessor (Schwartz 2001). As many critics have pointed out, the wealth of rabbinic literature from the second to fourth century poses a particular difficulty for Schwartz’s thesis. From the perspective of archaeology, Schwartz’s case is supported by the redating of many synagogues, especially the Galilean-type buildings, once thought to be Late Roman, but now generally considered products of the fourth century and later. In addition, Schwartz points to figural imagery on city-coins and other finds from Sepphoris and Tiberias in Lower Galilee to suggest that these were typical Greco-Roman cities in the Late Roman period, inhabited by Jews but indistinguishable from their non-Jewish neighbors and suffused with “pagan” culture. By the mid-fourth century, however, the Christianization of the Roman world P P 6096 marginalized and excluded Jews, forcing them back into the ancestral religion and culture that had been preserved tenuously by a small group of rabbis. Schwartz’s overall thesis is not generally accepted, but like Goodenough’s study, it has posed an important challenge to the field, forcing scholars to rethink approaches to the archaeological evidence. For example, does the general absence in the archaeological record of the second- and third-century synagogue in Palestine indicate that Jews did not build synagogues – or even practice Judaism – at that time? Or does it suggest that the synagogue took a wholly different form than archaeologists and historians expect? Or, conversely, are there other processes – such as preservation or the reuse of sites and building materials – at play that might obscure the remains? As a result of Schwartz’s study, a reconsideration of how the material evidence should be used in historical reconstruction alongside literary sources has characterized much of the research in the past decade. Archaeology has made an especially significant contribution to the study of Diaspora Judaism in the post-70 era. A dozen or so ancient synagogues are known from the Roman and Byzantine world outside of Palestine, including examples from Italy, North Africa, Greece, Albania, Bulgaria, Turkey, and Syria. In addition to the third-century building from Dura-Europos (see above), excavations in the synagogue of Ostia near Rome have shown that the building was used for Jewish liturgy from at least the fourth century onward, and perhaps earlier. At Sardis in Turkey, a great hall attests to the largest synagogue known from the ancient world. Interestingly, the building originally was part of the civic center but apparently was acquired by the Jewish community and converted into a synagogue in Late Antiquity, suggesting that Jewish communities enjoyed a high socioeconomic status as late as the sixth century, despite literary sources that attest to occasional persecution. International Perspectives As with most subfields in the study of ancient Palestine, the archaeology of post-70 Judaism is Post-Second Temple Judaism Archaeology fraught with controversies over the cultural heritage. Many of the relevant sites are located in the contested territories of the West Bank and the Golan Heights. As a result, questions surrounding the ownership of sites and finds have played an occasional role in the negotiations between the State of Israel and the Palestinian National Authority and the politics of the region. Future Directions Recent and new excavations in Late Ancient Jewish cities and villages over the past decade or two continue to fuel the study of post-70 Judaism. As the results of excavations at Sepphoris and Khirbet Qana during the 1990s and early 2000s emerge, evidence of city and village life for Jews during the Late Roman period will come to light, thereby addressing in part the challenge of Seth Schwartz’s thesis (see above). In addition, new synagogue excavations have begun over the past few years at Khirbet Wadi el-Hammam and Huqoq, both in Galilee. Both have incorporated into their project goals a study of the associated village in addition to the site’s synagogue. The results will provide fresh perspectives on Jewish life beyond monumental and religious architecture. Cross-References ▶ Eastern Provinces of the Roman Empire, Archaeology of the ▶ Israel: Museums ▶ Jerusalem (Hellenistic, Roman, and Late Antique), Archaeology of ▶ Second Temple Judaism Archaeology References AVI-YONAH, M. 1978. Synagogues, in M. Avi-Yonah & E. Stern (ed.) The encyclopedia of archaeological excavations in the Holy Land, Volume 4: 1129-38. Israel Exploration Society & Massada Press. BARAG, D. 1993. En-Gedi: the synagogue, in E. Stern (ed.) The new encyclopedia of archaeological excavations Potato: Origins and Development in the Holy Land, Volume 2: 405-9. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. CORBO, V., S. LOFFREDA, A. SPIJKERMAN, E. TESTA & B. CALLEGHER. 1972-2007. Cafarnao, Volumes 1-9. Jerusalem: Franciscan Press. DOTHAN, M. 1983-2000. Hammath Tiberias, 2 Vols. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. FINE, S. 2005. Art and Judaism in the Greco-Roman world: toward a new Jewish archaeology. New York: Cambridge University Press. GAL, Z. 1995. Ancient synagogues in the eastern Lower Galilee, in D. Urman & P.V.M. Flesher (ed.) Ancient synagogues: historical analysis and archaeological discovery: 166-73. Leiden: Brill. GOODENOUGH, E.R. 1953-65. Jewish symbols in the Greco-Roman period, Volumes I-XIII. New York: Pantheon. HACHLILI, R. 1988. Ancient Jewish art and archaeology in the Land of Israel. Leiden: Brill. - 2001. The menorah, the ancient seven-armed candelabrum: origin, form and significance. Leiden: Brill. KOHL, H. & C. WATZINGER. 1916. Antike Synagogen in Galilaea. Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs’sche Buchhandlung. KRAELING, C.H. 1956. The synagogue. The excavations at Dura-Europos conducted by Yale University and the French Academy of Inscriptions and Letters, final report VIII, part I. New Haven: Yale University Press. LEVINE, L.I. 2005. The ancient synagogue: the first thousand years (2nd edition). New Haven: Yale University Press. - 2011. Synagogue art and the rabbis in late antiquity. Journal of Ancient Judaism 2: 79-114. MAGNESS, J. 2001. The question of the synagogue: the problem of typology, and a response to Eric M. Meyers and James F. Strange, in A.J. Avery-Peck & J. Neusner (ed.) Judaism in late antiquity, Part 3. Where we stand: issues and debates in ancient Judaism. Volume 4: the special problem of the synagogue: 1-48, 79-91. Leiden: Brill. MA‘OZ, Z.U. 1999. The synagogue at Capernaum: a radical solution, in J.H. Humphrey (ed.) The Roman and Byzantine Near East: some recent archaeological research, Volume 2: 137-48. Portsmouth (RI): Journal of Roman Archaeology. MAZAR, B., M. SCHWABE, B. LIFSHITZ & N. AVIGAD. 1973-76. Beth She‘arim, Volumes I-III. New Brunswick (NJ): Rutgers University Press. MEYERS, E. M., A. T. KRAABEL & J. F. STRANGE. 1976. Ancient synagogue excavations at Khirbet Shema’, Upper Galilee, Israel 1970–1972. Durham (NC): Duke University. MEYERS, E.M. & C.L. MEYERS. 2009. Excavations at ancient Nabratein: synagogue and environs. Winona Lake (IN): Eisenbrauns. MEYERS, E.M., J.F. STRANGE & C.L. MEYERS. 1981. Excavations at ancient Meiron, Upper Galilee, Israel: 1971-72, 1974-75, 1977. Cambridge (MA): American Schools of Oriental Research. 6097 P MEYERS, E.M., C.L. MEYERS & J.F. STRANGE. 1990. Excavations at the ancient synagogue of Gush Halav. ˙ Winona Lake (IN): Eisenbrauns. MILSON, D. 2007. Art and architecture of the synagogue in late antique Palestine: in the shadow of the church. Leiden: Brill. SCHWARTZ, S. 2001. Imperialism and Jewish society, 200 BCE to 640 CE Princeton (NJ): Princeton University Press. SUKENIK, E.L. 1932. The ancient synagogue of Beth Alpha. Jerusalem: Jerusalem University Press. WEISS, Z. 2005. The Sepphoris synagogue: deciphering an ancient message through its archaeological and sociohistorical contexts. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society & Hebrew University. YADIN, Y. 1971. Bar-Kokhba: the rediscovery of the legendary hero of the Second Jewish Revolt against Rome. New York: Random House. YEIVIN, Z. 2000. The synagogue at Korazim: the 19621964, 1980-1987 excavations. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Further Reading AVI-YONAH, M. 1976. The Jews of Palestine: a political history from the Bar Kokhba war to the Arab conquest. Oxford: Blackwell. Potato: Origins and Development Tim Denham Archaeological Science Programs, School of Archaeology and Anthropology, ANU College of Arts and Social Sciences, The Australian National University, Canberra, ACT, Australia Basic Species Information The potato (Solanum tuberosum L.) is one of the most significant food crops cultivated globally. From initial domestication in the central Andean region, potatoes have spread across the world to become the dominant tuberous crop in temperate climates. In contrast to many root crops, several major volumes have been published on the history of potato domestication and cultivation (e.g., Salaman 1949; Hawkes 1990). The potato (Solanum tuberosum) is a flowering plant of the Solanaceae family, which includes several other domesticated plants such as tomato (Solanum lycopersicum), aubergine P P 6098 (Solanum melongena), and tobacco (Nicotiana tabacum). The potato produces stolons (or underground stems) that under certain environmental conditions enlarge to form tubers (the Potato Genome Sequencing Consortium 2011). Potatoes are propagated vegetatively through the transplantation of “seed potato,” namely, the swollen stolon or tuber. The plant is predominantly grown as a source of starch, although it provides some protein, vitamins, and other nutrients. Major Domestication Traits Although there is only one domesticated species (Solanum tuberosum), there are thousands of cultivated varieties which display considerable genetic and morphological variation. Human selection under cultivation has favored size, shape, color, texture, and taste, including the reduction of bitter glycoalkaloids. There is considerable diversity in the number and range of wild Solanum species in the Americas, many of which are tuber-bearing. However, the greatest diversity of potato cultivars is found in the central Andean zone of Peru and Bolivia. Indeed, the plant is generally considered to have been domesticated in the temperate climates of the central Andes (Harlan 1971; Brush et al. 1981; Hawkes 1990; Vavilov 1992; Spooner et al. 2005). Although various hypotheses have been proposed, all suggest domestication from a group of morphologically similar, wild tuberous Solanum species – referred to as the Solanum brevicaule complex in the central Andes (extending from Peru to Argentina). The specifics of the hypotheses vary: most suggest multiple domestications from different members of the Solanum brevicaule complex across the central Andean region (e.g., Hawkes 1990), whereas others suggest a single domestication or monophyletic origin in Peru (e.g., Spooner et al. 2005). Potato is generally considered to be a cultigen, namely, it was domesticated through the introgression or cross-fertilization between two species rather than being descended from a single precursor. The oldest archaeological evidence for potato domestication comes from the central Andean Potato: Origins and Development region. Macrobotanical finds of potato tuber fragments at Tres Ventanas caves in Chilca Canyon of coastal Peru have been claimed to date to the early Holocene, perhaps to 10,000 years ago (Engel 1970; Pickersgill & Heiser 1977). Given the morphological range in tuber-bearing Solanum species, some of these identifications may require more detailed analysis to determine species and domestication status more precisely. Perhaps tellingly, potato remains are almost absent from the archaeobotanical record from the central Andean region for the following 5,000 years or so; the next oldest sites yielding evidence of potatoes date to c. 4,500–4,000 years ago (see review in Hastorf 2007). Evidence for the likely cultivation of potatoes becomes more common from c. 4,000 to 3,500 years ago in the Casma Valley of Peru (Ugent et al. 1982; Ugent & Peterson 1988), tentatively identified at Waynuna in southern Peru (Perry 2007), as well as at other sites. Potatoes are depicted on ceramics of Andean cultures dating to the last 2,000 years or so. Over the last 500 years, potato has been distributed widely across the globe to be grown predominantly in temperate climates (Salaman 1949). Initially, only a narrow genetic range of cultivated potatoes was moved to Europe, but this has been deliberately expanded since the nineteenth century. The infamous Irish potato famine of the mid-nineteenth century was caused by blight (Phytophthora infestans), which in part was so pernicious due to a narrow genetic stock of potatoes cultivated at that time. The dependence of the Irish population on potatoes led to the major famine with potentially up to a million people dead and a larger number migrating overseas. Given the global significance of the crop, a recent international effort has been focused on sequencing the potato genome with a view of crop improvement to resist blight and other diseases (the Potato Genome Sequencing Consortium 2011). Cross-References ▶ Agriculture: Definition and Overview ▶ Archaeobotany of Early Agriculture: Macrobotany Poverty Point, Archaeology of ▶ Archaeobotany of Early Agriculture: Microbotanical Analysis ▶ Domestication: Definition and Overview ▶ Domestication Syndrome in Plants ▶ Genetics of Early Plant Domestication: DNA and aDNA ▶ Plant Domestication and Cultivation in Archaeology ▶ Plant Processing Technologies in Archaeology ▶ Tomatoes: Origins and Development ▶ Vegeculture: General Principles References BRUSH, S.B., H.J. CARNEY & Z. HUAMÁN. 1981. Dynamics of Andean potato agriculture. Economic Botany 35: 70-88. ENGEL, F.A. 1970. Explorations of the Chilca Canyon, Peru. Current Anthropology 11: 55-8. HARLAN, J.R. 1971. Agricultural origins: centers and noncenters. Science 174: 468-74. HASTORF, C.A. 2007. Cultural implications of crop introductions in Andean prehistory, in T.P. Denham & P. White (ed.) The emergence of agriculture: a global view: 106-33. Abingdon (Oxfordshire): Routledge. HAWKES, J.G. 1990. The potato: evolution, biodiversity and genetic resources. London: Belhaven Press. PERRY, L. 2007. Starch remains, preservation biases and plant histories: An example from highland Peru, in T.P. Denham, J. Iriarte & L. Vrydghs (ed.) Rethinking agriculture: archaeological and ethnoarchaeological perspectives: 241-55. Walnut Creek (CA): Left Coast Press. PICKERSGILL, B. & C.B. HEISER. 1977. Origins and distribution of plants domesticated in the New World tropics, in C.A. Reed (ed.) Origins of agriculture: 803-35. The Hague: Mouton. SALAMAN, R.N. 1949. The history and social influence of the potato. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. SPOONER, D.M., K. MCLEAN, G. RAMSAY, R. WAUGH & G.J. BRYAN. 2005. A single domestication for potato base on multilocus amplified fragment polymorphism genotyping. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the USA 102: 14694-9. THE POTATO GENOME SEQUENCING CONSORTIUM. 2011. Genome sequence and analysis of the tuber crop potato. Nature 475: 189-95. UGENT, D. & L.W. PETERSON. 1988. Archaeological remains of potato and sweet potato in Peru. Circular (International Potato Center) 16: 1-10. UGENT, D., S. POZORSKI & T. POZORSKI. 1982. Archaeological tuber remains from the Casma Valley of Peru. Economic Botany 36: 182-92. VAVILOV, N.I. 1992. Origin and geography of cultivated plants. Translated and edited by D. Löve. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 6099 P Poverty Point, Archaeology of Tristram R. Kidder Department of Anthropology, Washington University in St. Louis, St. Louis, MO, USA Introduction Poverty Point is the name of an archaeological site located in the lower Mississippi Valley in modern-day northeast Louisiana (Fig. 1) dating from c. 1500 to 1150 cal BCE. The site is famous for being exceptionally large (the core of the site is roughly 1000 ha) and for having multiple earthen mounds and ridges indicating exceptional labor investment. In addition, the inhabitants of the site imported remarkable quantities of lithic materials into the site from considerable distances. These qualities set the site apart from almost all of its contemporaries. Definition The term Poverty Point culture (Webb 1982) has been applied to sites dating to the same time period in the Mississippi Valley from as far north as southeastern Missouri to the Gulf Coast. Poverty Point “culture” refers to the use of shared material traits, most notably clay cooking balls and certain forms of hafted knives or projectile points. The relationship between the Poverty Point site and so-called Poverty Point culture settlements is ambiguous, and it is probably best to assume that, while there may have been broadly shared material characteristics among groups in this region, political, social, and linguistic relations were complex, fluid, and not dependent on political direction from the Poverty Point site itself. Subsistence studies demonstrate that the inhabitants of Poverty Point and contemporary sites in the Mississippi Valley were entirely dependent on consumption of wild plants, animals, and fish. P P 6100 Poverty Point, Archaeology of Motly Mound Mound B Mound C Ma con Rid ge Mound A Povert Point Mound E Mound D Te nsa sB asi n Core area Lower Jackson 166 70 0 .5 1.0 Kilometers Poverty Point, Archaeology of, Fig. 1 Lidar map of the Poverty Point site, showing mounds and other features. Inset shows location of the figure (black rectangle, exaggerated for effect) within the southeastern United States Poverty Point, Archaeology of Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples The Poverty Point site is entirely unique for its time; in fact, the site is exceptional for any point in American Indian history. Furthermore, on a global scale, the people who constructed and inhabited the site are remarkable for building what is arguably among the largest purely hunter-gatherer settlements anywhere, for erecting what in context was massive monumental architecture, and for participating in a complicated and multifaceted long-distance exchange network that spanned much of eastern North America and that brought to the site literally tons of raw material (in fact, all lithics found at the site must be imported because there are no naturally occurring lithic sources within 50–75 km of the Poverty Point site). In these regards, these people were practicing social, political, and economic behaviors that would be understood as complex even among agricultural groups. Recent work at Poverty Point expands our understanding of the occupation history of the site and contributes to a perspective that suggests the site’s inhabitants were engaged in complex ritual and likely religious behaviors that may have been integrating culturally diverse populations over large areas. The Poverty Point site is located on the eastern edge of Macon Ridge, a 5-m-high Pleistocene terrace overlooking the floodplain of the Mississippi River. Bayou Macon, a small local drainage, is located at the base of the terrace and forms the eastern boundary of the site. To the north, west, and south lies a generally flat to undulating terrace surface broken by small streams and some ponds. The site is composed of a c. 1000-ha. core area of dense habitation remains, earthen ridges, and mounds with contemporary settlement debris in concentrated patches spread over an area encompassing 6–7 km2. The southern and northern boundaries of the habitation area are marked by earthen mounds, but these mounds were either built at an earlier date (Lower Jackson Mound on the south end of the site was built c. 3000 cal BCE) or their age of construction is unclear (Motley Mound on the north end is 6101 P assumed to have been built during the Poverty Point-era occupation but has never been directly dated). Small settlements – presumably villages – with direct evidence of contemporary occupation are found to the east along the banks of sluggish bayous draining the Mississippi River floodplain and more rarely to the west, north, and south along the terrace surface. Contemporary settlements are found in an area encompassing roughly 2,000 km2 around the Poverty Point site; sites of the same age with some evidence of Poverty Point “culture” affiliation are located at greater distances along the Mississippi River and its tributaries. The core area of occupation is marked by the presence of six “C-shaped” concentric earthen ridges with their open ends facing east leaving a large open area (often referred to as a plaza) at the eastern edge. These ridges averaged 2–3 m tall and were approximately 30–40 m wide at their base. Four mounds are found in the core area. The largest, Mound A, stands 21 m tall at its summit and slopes down to a flat terrace 10 m above the surrounding terrain. The mound is roughly “T-shaped” and measures 211 m north to south along the top of the T and 207 m long east to west. To the north of Mound A is Mound B, a conical mound some 5–6 m tall with a base roughly 55 m in diameter. Mound C is located within the open area or plaza along the edge of the terrace, and today the apex is conical and stands only 2–2.5 m tall. This mound is elongated on its north to south axis but much of the eastern side of the mound may have been lost to erosion. Mound D is located along the terrace on the south edge of the open plaza area. Mound E is located due south of Mound A and is a 3-m-high rectangular platform with a flat summit. Mounds A, B, and C have been dated and were built during the Poverty Point-era occupation. Mound D was likely built by historic EuroAmerican settlers as the platform for nineteenthcentury burials. Mound E is not yet dated but based on soil profile development could date before the Poverty Point-age occupation although a contemporary occupation cannot be ruled out. As befits a large site Poverty Point has a complicated occupation history. Surface-collected P P 6102 remains show that the earliest occupation in the site area goes back to the Paleo-Indian period, and there are modest quantities of Early and Middle Archaic remains scattered across the eastern edge of Macon Ridge within the site boundaries. There is an apparent occupational hiatus c. 2800–1500 cal BCE. Beginning c. 1500 cal BCE, there is a substantial occupation across much of the core area of the site, most notably along and near the eastern edge of Macon Ridge. At the time of initial occupation, there was limited earthen monumental construction. So far, only Mound B has been dated to this initial occupation period. Recent geophysical survey and limited test excavations in the open plaza area indicate that the earliest inhabitants were erecting large 20–40-m-diameter circular structures made up of 60–70-cm-diameter single set posts. These structures were eventually dismantled and the posts removed. The function of these structures or features is unknown, but their size and the use of large single set posts indicates a considerable investment in labor, and these can be considered monumental architecture, especially in the context of a purely hunting, fishing, and gathering subsistence lifestyle. This initial occupation episode is widespread, and contemporary remains are found beneath the plaza and under what would become the ridges. Limited radiocarbon dating of these remains suggests the occupation lasted some 200 years, from c. 1500 to 1300 cal BCE. At present it is unclear if this was a permanent village or if these remains mark repeated visits to the site area over the duration of the dated occupation span. The early inhabitants of the site are notable for making and using distinctively Poverty Point material culture (notably the ubiquitous baked clay cooking balls (“Poverty Point Objects” or PPOs), hafted knives or projectile points, microlithic tools, and lapidary items such as beads). The site’s inhabitants were importing lithic materials from very long distances at this time. One of the most notable lithic raw material types in these early deposits is Burlington chert, sourced to the central Mississippi River area around modern St. Louis, Missouri, nearly 700 km to the north of Poverty Poverty Point, Archaeology of Point. One study found that in seven test pits that penetrated to the earliest occupation zone, Burlington chert remains (tools and debitage) from the initial occupation levels weighed nearly 16,000 g. In contrast, only 4,000 g of so-called local pebble chert, which is derived from gravels along the edges of the Mississippi Valley 50–75 km distant from Poverty Point, was recovered from the same contexts. At this time other lithic sources were being tapped, but in much smaller quantities. Still, the network of chert imported to the site encompassed a good deal of the Mississippi Valley and its tributaries. Beginning c. 1300 cal BCE, the site underwent a dramatic transformation. The most notable occurrence was the construction of the six earthen ridges and some of the mounds. Associated with these physical changes, there are shifts in material culture use and alteration of the raw material resource network. Although the data should be understood as provisional because there are relatively few radiocarbon dates, the sequence of events leading to the radical reconfiguration of the site appears to begin with the termination of use of Mound B and at or around the same time the dismantling of the single post structures within the area known as the plaza. Mound B, which had begun its life as a flat-topped platform mound, was covered with a thick mantle of earth, and the mound and its immediate surroundings seem to have been abandoned and never used again. Similarly, the single post “buildings” were carefully taken apart and the postholes filled. Following these “terminations,” there are several important additions. One is the beginning of the use of Mound C. Here, a series of thin (usually only a few cm thick) use or occupation surfaces were created, briefly used for unknown purposes, and then capped with carefully selected fills. This process of surface construction-use-fill was repeated multiple times creating a low rise (the shape is not known at this time because of erosion on the east side of the mound). Mound C began as a low rise (possibly a platform) and was used for perhaps 100 years before being capped by the addition of a conical mass of earthen fill that covered the underlying use surfaces. This fill was peculiar in that it was not midden-stained or Poverty Point, Archaeology of organically enriched, but nonetheless contained abundant artifacts. At the same time that Mound C was being erected and used, the concentric ridges were being built. The precise chronological relationships among these ridges are not clear at present – they may have been built in some order or may have been constructed more or less at the same time. In any case, they were built quite quickly, most likely within a generation. They were created by borrowing earth from immediately adjacent to the ridges, creating a shallow ditch between each of the ridges. The ridges are assumed to have been built to support houses or structures on their surfaces, but modern agriculture and over 3,000 years of erosion and soil development have obliterated any obvious evidence of habitations, although some features, notably fire pits and earth-oven cooking pits, have been uncovered. Artifacts are common on the ridges, their flanks, and the ditches at their bases. The surface of the site today is densely covered with artifacts; a longtime collector amassed a surface collection in excess of 500,000 artifacts that are provenienced by ridge and sector. At roughly the same time as the ridges were being built, and after the initial surfaces of Mound C were deposited, the inner or plaza part of the site was covered with up to 75 cm of fill, creating a level surface and burying the single post structures previously erected on the ground surface. The final construction activity at the site is the erection of Mound A. This mound, which is the second largest earthen monument in the United States, was built at the western edge of the outermost ridge. Excavations and coring of the mound demonstrate that much of the mound was constructed over a seasonally wet, swampy depression roughly 1–2 m deep. There is a reasonably clear sense of the construction sequence for Mound A. First, the vegetation of the swampy depression was burned and then immediately after a thin (5–15-cm-thick) layer of tan to white fine silt was deposited across the swampy depression. The mound was then erected very rapidly. We believe that the western conical portion of the mound was built first. This part was erected at the 6103 P western edge of the swampy depression and only part of it covers this feature. The western conical part of the mound is built with distinctive, fairly homogenous soils that appear to have been mined or borrowed from the surface or near the surface of Macon Ridge. The platform along the east end of the mound was then added on. Here, the soils are more heterogeneous and appear to come from contexts deeper within Macon Ridge. Shallow depressions to the north and to the west of the mound are likely borrow areas. Once the cone and platform were built, a ramp was added to join the two features. Three radiocarbon dates from short-lived plant charcoal, and a buried root at the base of the platform date the onset of construction to a mean age of 1252 cal BCE. Our data indicate the mound was built very rapidly. Once construction started there is no evidence it ceased until the mound reached its full form. There are no cultural stages, natural soil horizons, or erosion features within the mound except at the base of the ramp joining the cone to the platform. The absence of erosion features is especially notable because the mound is made of reworked loess, which is especially susceptible to erosion, and the site is located in a humid temperate region where rainfall is abundant, even in the driest months. We posit that the mound was built in as little as three months to probably not much more than a year. It certainly was not erected over multiple years or generations. With a volume of 238,500 m3, this duration of construction implies a workforce ranging from c. 1,000 to 3,000 laborers plus families. The function of the mound has never been established. There are almost no artifacts within the parts of the mound that have been cored or excavated, and no cultural features (floors, pits, houses) have been detected within or on the summit of the cone or the platform. The surface of the mound and its flanks are nearly devoid of artifacts, suggesting that if the mound was used for some purposes, the inhabitants were careful not to leave behind material culture residues. The Poverty Point site was abandoned not long after the construction of Mound A. By c. 1150–1100 cal BCE, there were no longer P P 6104 any inhabitants who were leaving traces of occupation. The abandonment of the site coincides with an apparent decline in occupation intensity throughout the lower Mississippi Valley. Similar population declines have been registered across much of eastern North America, and there is a large-scale transformation of cultures from Late Archaic to Early Woodland. Climate change and associated flooding throughout the Mississippi Valley have been hypothesized to account for the apparent demise of Poverty Point and the so-called Poverty Point culture (Kidder 2006). Most explanations for Poverty Point’s genesis and reproduction share the underlying assumption that the site exists to fulfill an economically utilitarian function. The dominant assumption is that Poverty Point is an oversized town that takes its economic utility from the need to import lithics into a region where no lithics exist. Alternate models have posited that the site served to facilitate the exchange of economically valued goods among far-flung communities. Poverty Point’s earthwork construction has similarly been situated in a utilitarian framework. For Gibson (2000), the mounds represent physical manifestations of magic that buffers against a metaphysical but potentially real threat to the health and wellness of the community. To Hamilton (1999), on the other hand, the construction of mounds diverts human energy from reproduction to production and thereby acts to prevent overpopulation in the face of uncertain economic returns. The actions of the people who inhabited or visited Poverty Point, however, defy purely rational economic models related to lithic procurement and/or resource buffering scenarios. Functionally unnecessary exotic lithics were imported in vast quantities when local stone was available within a more reasonable distance; steatite was brought in when local pottery was available and nonlocal pottery when local pottery and/or steatite was accessible. The production of nonutilitarian items (e.g., beads, quartz crystals, oversized bifaces, and bannerstones) integral to group identity/alliance formation indicates ritual or religious behavior Poverty Point, Archaeology of that has been ignored or undervalued. Compared to amounts of materials imported to Poverty Point sites, little tangible is exported; thus, Poverty Point appears to be drawing people and artifacts to the site from across the Southeast. Earthwork construction was functionally “nonutilitarian” as well; most Poverty Pointage mounds did not support structures, burials, or the accumulation of post-construction occupation debris flanking or atop the construction stages. Instead, building activities are highly ritualized events involving extremely complex construction techniques, including the mining and use of sediments of different colors, the mixing of distinct materials prior to deposition, and submound occupation/surface preparation. The rapid yet structurally ordered events at Poverty Point implies that the act of building these earthworks was itself imbued with ritual meaning. The material culture points to visitation by people of highly diverse backgrounds. Kidder (2011) hypothesizes that the massive construction projects undertaken at Poverty Point after c. 3400 cal BP were about creating/recreating a new, shared cosmology and cultural narrative to provide communitas for participants with varied geographic, ethnic, or social origins. Thus, rather than considering Poverty Point as an outsized village different from contemporaries across the Southeast only in size and quantity of imported goods, it is better to consider Poverty Point a religious or ritual center, what Renfrew (2001) has called a Location of High Devotional Expression akin to Chaco Canyon or Stonehenge. The idea that Poverty Point is a ritual center is alien in this relatively early North American context because hunter-gatherers – even complex ones – are not given credit for doing these sorts of thing. Traditional models suggest they do not have complex ritual behavior or elaborate religious practices because they are busy eking out an existence in the face of uncertain environments. However, new data from Poverty Point provide an opportunity to reframe the debate from the presumption that economic imperatives must be the sole driver of hunter-gatherer social Power and Knowledge in Archaeology change. People living at Poverty Point-era sites did not need to trade vast distances to get their basic tool stone. From a wholly utilitarian position, in fact, the idea that people should go hundreds of kilometers out of their way to get raw material – some which is of dubious quality – is preposterous. We argue instead that economic interactions were trailing behind more ritualreligious processes. Imagining this sort of complexity for Poverty Point may seem extreme, in part because defining why ritual occurred is exceedingly difficult; the reasons may be wholly idiosyncratic or based on the emergence of prophetic persons or theophanies whose manifestations are archaeologically invisible or even intangible. Christian ritual, after all, is based on miracle births, visions, acts of healing, and apparitions on walls, screens, or even in toasted cheese sandwiches. At this point, proving that ritual is the cause for the structure of Poverty Point and its associated sites is difficult. However, it is clear that the explanation for the production and reproduction of Poverty Point communities lies in understanding the ritual histories of these remarkable sites. 6105 P KIDDER, T. R. 2006. Climate change and the archaic to woodland transition (3000-2600 cal B.P.) in the Mississippi River Basin. American Antiquity 71:195-231. - 2011. Transforming hunter-gatherer history at Poverty Point, in K. E. Sassaman & D. H. Holley, Jr. (ed.) Hunter-gatherer archaeology as historical process: 95-119. Tucson: Amerind Foundation and University of Arizona Press. RENFREW, C. 2001. Production and consumption in a sacred economy: the material correlates of high devotional expression at Chaco Canyon. American Antiquity 66:14-25. WEBB, C. H. 1982. The Poverty Point culture (Geoscience and Man 17) (2nd ed., revised). Baton Rouge: Geoscience Publications, Department of Geography and Anthropology, Louisiana State University. Power and Knowledge in Archaeology Andrés Zarankin1 and Melisa A. Salerno2 1 Departamento de Sociologia e Antropologia, Universidade Federal de Minas Gerais, Belo Horizonte, Minas Gerais, Brazil 2 Instituto Multidisciplinario de Historia y Ciencias Humanas, Consejo Nacional de Investigaciones Cientı́ficas y Técnicas, Buenos Aires, Argentina Cross-References Introduction ▶ Chaco Canyon, Archaeology of ▶ Complex Hunter-Gatherers ▶ Hunter-Gatherer Settlement and Mobility ▶ Hunter-Gatherers, Archaeology of ▶ North American Mound Builders: Hopewell, Natchez, Cahokia ▶ Woodland and Mississippian Cultures of the North American Heartland References GIBSON, J. L. 2000. The ancient mounds of Poverty Point: place of rings. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. HAMILTON, F. E. 1999. Southeastern archaic mounds: examples of elaboration in a temporally fluctuating environment? Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 18:344-55. Presently, the study of power dynamics and the constitution of knowledge and its multiple connections has a relevant place in social sciences. Much of this discussion is indebted to the work of the French philosopher Michel Foucault (1926–1984). Foucault is frequently defined as a poststructuralist, along with other major references such as Gilles Deleuze, JeanFrançois Lyotard, and Jacques Derrida. Although he rejected an explicit adscription to this movement, his studies adopted some of its basic ideas (including an interest in discourse and history). Foucault attempted to understand some of the features of modernity, discussing those which were perceived as natural or obvious. He considered that the past was the key to analyze the conditions for the formation and P P 6106 transformation of subjects, objects, and its constituent relationships. He believed that these conditions were necessary to establish a certain regime of truth and social order at a given moment. Foucault developed a critical history of thought, which should not be confused with a history of the ideas. Archaeology and genealogy were Foucault’s particular ways of engaging with the past (Guting 2011). The archaeological method intended to be a critique to traditional history. While the latter approach relied on individual consciousness, Foucault’s archaeology insisted that thought was governed by unconscious rules. These rules were present in discourse, in other words, a set of statements that produced knowledge. Foucault intended to recognize different discursive formations in the history of Western civilization. He eventually found out that the modern way of understanding the world was contingent (not an absolute or ultimate truth). The archaeological method did not provide sufficient tools to account for the transformation of discursive formations. Genealogy proved to be a more diachronic tactic (Foucault 1980). It was based on some ideas proposed by the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche. And it considered the way in which certain discourses had given way to what constituted the present. In the genealogical analysis, power became a relevant concept (Bapty & Yates 1990). Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples Foucault confronted previous understandings of power. The case of Marxism is particularly illustrative. Marxism understood that social classes in the capitalist mode of production were defined by ownership, and that ownership invested the members of a certain class (the capitalists) with power over the rest of society. Power relationships were thus rooted in economy, and politics (mainly the state) served the purpose of protecting the interests of the owners (Shackel 1993). This had a negative impact on the less privileged classes, which Power and Knowledge in Archaeology were kept under control through mystification and repression. Foucault believed that power was decentered. It was not something that people could either possess or lack. Power “[was] exercised through a net-like organi[z]ation” (Foucault 1980: 98). Every member of society took part in the network, and most people could simultaneously exercise and be the target of power. Discourses and power were inextricably connected, as power was both the product and producer of truth and knowledge. In the modern world, power discourses were not limited to coercion. They also relied on discipline (Foucault 1975). Discipline was a key concept in Foucault’s work. It referred to a wide range of techniques which sought to control people’s actions through time, space, and movement segmentation. Disciplines acted on the material body and generated specific gestures. They had two goals: increase body utility and docility. Disciplinary success depended on surveillance. Surveillance used the gaze as a means to control bodies. Surveillance techniques materialized in space, and panoptical architecture (where people could be watched without knowing exactly when) was an example of that. Information obtained through surveillance encouraged a sanction-gratification system that expected to correct deviations. According to Foucault, discipline participated in the construction of individuals. In this respect, it is important to note that discipline did not act globally. On the contrary, it separated (individuated) people in order to become effective. The construction of individuals relied on an additional factor: the recognition of people’s own subjectivity. This went hand in hand with an introspective view, a self-awareness which facilitated the internalization of discourses (as people considered these discourses to have positive effects on their lives). Foucault argued that discipline sought to create an economy of power (Foucault 1975). Power should be distributed homogeneously, so it was not too disperse or concentrated. Power should be present everywhere in a continuous though subtle way. From a Foucauldian perspective, the analysis of power needed to consider the role of institutions (as they were effective means to distribute Power and Knowledge in Archaeology power). Modern states helped to control several aspects of life through an ever increasing number of formal institutions. Foucault was famous for his analysis of the disciplinary character of prisons, schools, hospitals, asylums, military organizations, etc. These institutions inculcated norms of behavior, distinguished between the normal and the deviants, and corrected the inclinations of the latter. Some organizations were also important in the consolidation of what Foucault termed biopower: the control of bodies and populations justified on an alleged protection of life. But state institutions were not the only ones that produced and reproduced the knowledgepower discourses of modernity. Other entities, though smaller and less formally regulated, helped in the process. Among them, it is worth mentioning the family, workplaces, etc. In studying power, Foucault coined the term governmentality. Governmentality involved a conjoint analysis of the government and the particular modes of thought (historical discourses) which were connected to it. In Foucault’s work, the government was understood in a broad sense. It did not only include politics and the state but also other realms of social life (for instance, the household). Furthermore, it did not only entail control over other people but also over oneself. Foucault asserted that in the modern world the development of the sovereign state coincided with the birth of the individual (Lemke 2001). The idea of governmentality eventually gathered the technologies of domination and the technologies of the self. Although most of Foucault’s studies focused on the first topic, some of his later works considered the importance of the second. In general, the technologies of the self were defined as a series of operations that individuals effected on their bodies and souls with an aim to achieve a certain state (such as happiness) (Foucault 1988). Archaeology, not necessarily in a Foucauldian sense, but as a discipline deeply concerned with the study of social life and material culture, did not escape Foucault’s influence. After what is usually termed the postprocessual or postmodernist turn in archaeology, some scholars became interested in his work (as well as in the work of 6107 P other social theorists). Although some archaeologists dealing with premodern settings include Foucauldian concepts in their investigations, most researchers citing Foucault are currently interested in the modern world. This is not surprising, as Foucault devoted an important part of his efforts to understand the dynamics of modern society (and its genealogy in Western civilization). Taking this into consideration, it is clear why some of his concepts cannot be easily applied to any historical context. Just to give an example, discipline, panoticism, and individualism cannot be universalized as they are connected to a particular regime of power-knowledge (that of capitalism). The works of Matthew Johnson and Martin Hall reflect Foucault’s relevance in historical archaeology. Johnson (1996) stressed that historical archaeologists should focus on capitalism, as it was the leading force behind a series of significant changes from the Late Middle Ages onward. Individuality, segmentation, and standardization were key concepts in Johnson’s research. These ideas – although not in an explicit manner (Leone 2009) – had several connections with Foucault’s understanding of power (its mechanics and outcomes). Martin Hall (2000) insisted that Foucauldian statements could be the building blocks of historical archaeology, as they allowed connecting things (the remains found in archaeological contexts) and words (mainly historical documents). Statements had multiple and changing meanings, giving archaeologists the opportunity to reinterpret the past in the present (and the present through the past). Following Hall, the articulation of statements in discourses (which made social practices regular) was a crucial step in studying the relationship between different scale units. In this way, he thought it was possible to connect local statements and global discourses. Historical archaeologists also turn to Foucault in order to approach specific problems and case studies. In this context, it is worth mentioning the analysis of etiquette, institutions, the state, etc. The analysis of etiquette frequently considers the role of personal discipline. Just to give an example, Paul Shackel (1993) and Mark Leone (1999) P P 6108 discussed the multiple ways in which institutions and people themselves produced and reproduced certain practices and ideas which encouraged individualism and social difference (mainly in Annapolis and its surroundings). The study of institutions often considers the role of materiality in the construction of power relationships. Panopticism and disciplinary practices thus appear as relevant issues. Lu Ann de Cunzo (2006) made a review on total institutions and asserted that archaeological works on the issue should include prisons, schools, hospitals, almshouses, and workplaces in different geographical contexts. Some other studies focus on state intervention on different aspects of social life and the discipline. Matthew Palus (2011) used the concept of governmentality to understand how the life of citizens was “colonized” and regulated through the material presence of infrastructure. Meanwhile, Matthew Palus, Mark Leone, and Matthew Cochran (2006) referred to different situations where governmentality could explain the control of the archaeological practice (and the restrictions to critical analysis). Some fields of study (whether or not connected to historical archaeology) accept the theoretical importance of the author. This is the case of postcolonial studies and the archaeologies of gender and the body. Foucault’s influence on postcolonial studies was connected to the imprint he made on postcolonial theorists such as Edward Said (Gosden 1999). According to Said, the concepts of discourse and power were relevant to promote a solid critique to the way in which the West traditionally understood the East (and more generally, other cultures). Western discourses (including state and scientific discourses) represented the East as being the contrary to the West (inferior, passive, irrational). These assertions were seen as natural and materialized in a series of actions which ended up in the domination of the East. Gender archaeologies recognized Foucault’s impact on third-wave feminism (Gilchrist 1994). In this particular case, the concepts of discourse and power were relevant to discuss the social construction of femininity and masculinity. Finally, the archaeologies of the body insisted that some Foucauldian notions such Power and Knowledge in Archaeology as discipline, biopower, and biopolitics could be useful to understand the multiple ways in which power and discourses constitute the materiality of our own bodies and gestures (Hamilakis et al. 2002). It is important to note that although many archaeologists refer to Foucault and highlight the potential of his work, they do not use any of his concepts in dealing with their own research problems. In general, if somebody compares Foucault’s influence with that of other social scientists in contemporary archaeology (for instance, of Marx or Bourdieu), he or she will realize that it is minor. Some scholars suggest that this situation is connected with Foucault’s limitations to account for resistance and agency (two hot spots in the discipline) (Meskell 1996). Here it is important to make some things clear. First, although Foucault placed much attention on dominance, his netlike conception of power admitted the possibility of response. Second, his later works opened up an avenue to study individual expression through the concept of “techniques of the self.” Third, the work of Foucault can engage in a dialogue with the work of other theorists enriching archaeological analysis. The works of Shackel (1993), Leone (1999), and others are just examples. It would be interesting that in the near future, more and more archaeologists could take advantage of Foucault’s insightful ideas. Cross-References ▶ Chronopolitics and Archaeology ▶ Decolonization in Archaeological Theory ▶ Global Archaeology ▶ Local Discourses in Archaeology ▶ Nationalism and Archaeology ▶ Postcolonial Archaeologies References BAPTY, I. & T. YATES. 1990. Introduction, in I. Bapty T. Yates (ed.) Archaeology after structuralism: poststructuralism: 1-34. London: Routledge. Practice Theory in Archaeology DE CUNZO, A. 2006. Exploring the institution. Reform, confinement, social change, in M. Hall & S. Silliman (ed.) Historical archaeology: 167-89. Malden: Blackwell. FOUCAULT, M. 1975. Discipline and punish: the birth of the prison. New York: Penguin. - 1980. Two lectures, in C. Gordon (ed.) Power/knowledge: selected interviews and other writings 1972-1977: 78-108. New York: Pantheon Books. - 1988. Technologies of the self, in L. Martin, H. Gutman & P. Hutton (ed.) Technologies of the self: a seminar with Michel Foucault: 16-49. Amherst: The University of Massachusetts Press. GILCHRIST, R. 1994. Gender and the material culture: the archaeology of religious women. London: Routledge. GOSDEN, C. 1999. Anthropology and archaeology: a changing relationship. London: Routledge. GUTING, G. 2011. Michel Foucault, in E. N. Zalta (ed.) The Stanford encyclopedia of philosophy. Available at: http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/fall2011/entries/ foucault (accessed 25 July 2011). HALL, M. 2000. Archaeology and the modern world: colonial transcripts in South Africa and the Chesapeake. London: Routledge. HAMILAKIS, Y., M. PLUCIENNIK & S. TARLOW. 2002. Introduction. Thinking through the body, in Y. Hamilakis, M. Pluciennik & S. Tarlow (ed.) Thinking through the body: archaeologies of corporeality: 1-21. New York: Kluwer/Plenum. JOHNSON, M. 1996. An archaeology of capitalism. Oxford: Blackwell. LEONE, M. 1999. Ceramics from Annapolis, Maryland: a measure of time routines and work discipline, in M. Leone & P. Potter (ed.) Historical archaeologies of capitalism: 195-216. New York: Kluwer/Plenum. - 2009. Making historical archaeology postcolonial, in T. Majewski & D. Gaimster (ed.) International handbook of historical archaeology: 159-68. New York: Springer. LEMKE, T. 2001. The birth of bio-politics: Michael Foucault’s lectures at the College de France on neo-liberal governmentality. Economy and Society 30(2): 190-207. MESKELL, L. 1996. The somatization of archaeology: institutions, discourses, corporeality. Norwegian Archaeological Review 29(1): 1-16. PALUS, M. 2011. Infrastructure and the conduct of government: annexation of the Eastport community into de City of Annapolis during the twentieth century, in S. Croucher & L. Weiss (ed.) The archaeology of capitalism in colonial contexts: 269-93. New York: Springer. PALUS, M., M. LEONE & M. COCHRAN. 2006. Critical archaeology: politics past and present, in M. Hall & S. Silliman (ed.) Historical archaeology: 84-104. Malden: Blackwell. SHACKEL, P. 1993. Personal discipline and material culture. An archaeology of Annapolis, Maryland, 1695-1870. Knoxville: The University of Tennessee Press. 6109 P Practice Theory in Archaeology Craig N. Cipolla School of Archaeology and Ancient History, University of Leicester, Leicester, UK Introduction Practice theory represents one of the most influential bodies of thought in contemporary anthropological archaeology. First incorporated into archaeological circles with postprocessual critiques of the 1980s (e.g., Hodder 1982), it has remained a hallmark of archaeological theory over the past three decades and continues to inform current debates over agency, identity, and materiality. Although definitions and applications vary between practitioners, all practice approaches share common interests in action (or agency), context, and history. When considered in terms of the structural-functional and evolutionary frameworks of processual archaeologies, these practice-based foci challenge archaeologists to look beyond largescale cultural processes to consider the role that individuals played in reproducing their respective social and cultural milieus. At the heart of all practice-based approaches lies a fundamental acknowledgement of the recursivity of social life, an invitation to explore the roles that different social entities – both human and nonhuman – played in reifying, shaping, and even challenging the structures of society. In this entry, I provide basic definitions for practice theory and several other closely related concepts. I trace their historical genesis and impacts in the field of archaeology and outline key issues and debates, including those related to power, agency, identity, cultural interaction, and the dynamism of cultural continuity and change. Definition In many ways practice theory defies definition. It is a body of thought first developed in P P 6110 sociology and cultural anthropology. It builds upon Marxist notions of praxis – putting ideas and theories into action – and serves as a general critique of both functionalism and structuralism in the social sciences. Yet it lacks the predictive and law-generating components of other theories employed in archaeology (e.g., cultural evolution), resembling a loose collection of possibilities rather than a deterministic and universalized model for how societies and cultures work, persist, and transform across time and space. Those archaeologists influenced by practice theory focus on the recursive ties between individuals and their surroundings – including other individuals, collectivities, and material culture. These interconnections shape individuals’ choices, actions, and representations (practices). Because they are recursively entangled, however, there is a “duality of structure” (Giddens 1979): social contexts influence practices, just as practices influence the social contexts in which they occur. Practice approaches thus strive to locate and study the roles that individuals, material culture, and other social entities play within processes of cultural reproduction (and transformation). According to the practice theorists discussed below, the things that people do and the representations that they produce are not mindless behavioral responses following broadscale evolutionary schemes of adaptation nor are they passive reflections of the cultural laws and regulations nested in actors’ heads. On the contrary, they are the active, meaningfully constituted loci of social and cultural reproduction, the dynamic and improvised interplay of individuals and their surroundings, and the arenas in which cultural change and continuity take form. Historical Background During the 1970s and 1980s anthropologist Pierre Bourdieu and sociologist Anthony Giddens each produced comprehensive theories of practice, both of which proved foundational for all subsequent practice-based approaches (see also de Certeau 1984, Sahlins 1985, and Butler 1993 Practice Theory in Archaeology for examples of other influential theories of practice in the social sciences). Each model focused on the recursive interconnections between individuals and their surroundings, framing practices (or actions) as “prime movers” in processes of social and cultural reproduction. Although Bourdieu and Giddens employed different concepts in their respective theories, each strove to explore the roles that individuals (not just charismatic “Big Men”) played in the reification of social structures through time and across space. Ian Hodder and his students at Cambridge later turned to the work of these thinkers in efforts to address issues of action, context, and history via the archaeological record. Such questions had been overlooked or rendered insignificant within the structuralfunctionalist frameworks of processual archaeology and thus came to play an important part in the emergence of postprocessual archaeology. Twenty years after these initial postprocessual critiques, Timothy Pauketat (2001a) proposed a move towards historical processualism, his term for an integration of processual and postprocessual archaeologies, also rooted firmly in practice theory. I explore each of these innovations below in order to better contextualize the origins and uses of practice in archaeology. Pierre Bourdieu actually began his career as a structuralist. He conducted ethnographic fieldwork in Algeria among the Kabyle, subsequently publishing his oft-cited description of the organizing principles of opposition inherent in Kabyle households (quoted at length in Bourdieu 1977 and reprinted in Bourdieu 1990). Of note, this analysis first appeared as a chapter in an edited volume dedicated to the work of structuralist Claude Lévi-Strauss. In the initial publication, Bourdieu discussed the sets of homologous oppositions ordering Kabyle households, such as female/male, dark/light, and low/high. Unlike other structuralists of the time that focused primarily on identifying such underlying organizational schemes and treated such patterns as direct reflections of the cultural principles stored in people’s minds, Bourdieu began to consider the significance of social practices, situated between thoughts and things. In contrast to Practice Theory in Archaeology standard structural approaches, he came to focus on the dynamic and dialectical relationships between objectification (e.g., the physical structure of the Kabyle house) and embodiment (e.g., bodily experience of the house) as a key component of social reproduction. In his own words: The house, an opus operatum, lends itself to deciphering, but only to a deciphering which does not forget that the “book” from which the children learn their vision of the world is read with the body, in and through the movements and displacements which make the space within which they are enacted as much as they are made by it (Bourdieu 1977: 90). Published in French in 1972 and translated to English in 1977, Bourdieu’s Outline of a Theory of Practice addressed these issues for anthropology and for social theory in general. According to Bourdieu’s theory of practice (1977, 1990), cultural reproduction takes place unconsciously in the mundane details of everyday life. These processes operate within the recursive connections between individuals and their surroundings. The things that individuals do and the representations that they produce simultaneously take shape from the practices and representations of others around them while also influencing future practices. Bourdieu (1977: 72) described this feedback loop as follows: The structures constitutive of a particular type of environment (e.g. the material conditions of existence characteristic of a class condition) produce habitus, systems of durable, transposable dispositions, structured structures predisposed to function as structuring structures, that is, as principles of the generation and structuring of practices and representations which can be objectively “regulated” and “regular” without in any way being the product of obedience to rules, objectively adapted to their goals without presupposing a conscious aiming at ends or an express mastery of the operations necessary to attain them and, being all this, collectively orchestrated without being the product of the orchestrating action of a conductor. For Bourdieu, the stability of social structures and the endurance of societies’ schemes of classification and regimes of power are wholly dependent upon an assumed natural order, unquestioned beliefs in the way that things have 6111 P “always” worked. The arbitrary (and inorganic) nature of certain structures is only brought into focus and questioned when an alternative way of life presents itself, introducing the possibility for practices to become politicized and for social transformation to occur. Bourdieu (1977: 164) used the term doxa to refer to this phenomenon. If some component of social life is doxic, it is taken to carry no political connotations since there is literally no conceivable alternative way of doing (Silliman 2001: 194). Once questioned and dissolved, doxas are subsequently reestablished through orthodoxy or continually challenged through heterodoxy. Archaeology is particularly well positioned to address issues of doxa given its long-view perspectives on human history (Loren 2001; Silliman 2001, see also Smith 2001 for a critique of doxa in archaeology). For example, archaeologist Stephen Silliman (2001) used this concept to interpret colonial interactions between Native Americans and colonialists in nineteenth-century California. He framed colonialism and its introduction of novel forms of material culture as a break in the doxa of pre-colonial North American societies. Bourdieu’s theory also rests upon the concept of habitus, a term that he appropriated from the work of Marcel Mauss. Recursively linked to its surrounding structures, habitus is an individual’s embodied predisposition to act in certain ways. The habitus is a durable but transposable set of dispositions amalgamated from a person’s life experiences and cultural repertoires, simultaneously structured and structuring. In Bourdieu’s (1977: 78) words: The habitus, the durably installed generative principle of regulated improvisations, produces practices which tend to reproduce the regularities immanent in the objective conditions of the production of their generative principle, while adjusting to the demands inscribed as objective potentialities in the situation, as defined by the cognitive and motivating structures making up the habitus. Although similar in some manners to the concept of culture, habitus adds a degree of fluidity and flexibility to processes of social and cultural reproduction. Habitus is “regulated” and “tends P P 6112 to reproduce” regularities, but it is also improvised and context dependent. In contrast to previous understandings of culture in anthropology, practitioners taking influence from Bourdieu “assume that society and history are not simply sums of ad hoc responses and adaptations to particular stimuli” (Ortner 1984: 148). Practicebased approaches thus acknowledge the ever-present possibility of structural transformation from within. Sharing many qualities with Bourdieu’s theory of practice, sociologist Anthony Giddens’ (1979, 1984) theory of structuration represents a middle ground between objectivism and subjectivism in the social sciences. On the one hand, Giddens critiqued functionalism and structuralism for their objectivist emphases on the social whole over its parts (individuals). On the other hand, he framed hermeneutics and interpretive sociologies as subjectivist in their sole focus on the experiences of individuals. Giddens (1984: 2) sought to establish a theory of practice situated between these two extremes, making the basic domain of study in the social sciences “social practices ordered across space and time.” Like Bourdieu, he identified practices as the loci of social reproduction by virtue of their recursive connections to systems of social structures. From this perspective, there is a duality of structure for Giddens (1979: 5): “structure is both medium and outcome of the reproduction of practices.” In the most basic sense, Giddens (1984: 17) conceptualized structure as the rules and resources that make it possible for similar social practice to exist across spans of time and space. As social practices are reproduced across spacetime, they take on increasingly systematic forms. For Giddens (1984: 25): Analyzing the structuration of social systems means studying the modes in which such systems, grounded in the knowledgeable activities of situated actors who draw upon rules and resources in the diversity of action contexts, are produced and reproduced in interaction. According to the theory of structuration, social reproduction occurs as individuals make choices and engage in practices, many of which operate Practice Theory in Archaeology on the level of what Giddens (1984: 6-7) calls practical consciousness, a concept sharing several parallels with Bourdieu’s ideas of habitus and doxa (see above). This realm of human awareness and belief exists between discursive consciousness – in which people have the ability to explain and express their motivations for acting in a certain way and not another – and unconscious motivations, of which individuals are unaware. Practical consciousness thus encompasses the reasons “behind” all practices that people engage in, of which they are aware, but cannot explain discursively. In other words, as people go about their daily lives, much of the work that they do in recasting social structures takes place beyond the realm of language (including “secondary rationalizations”). Of note, Giddens also recognizes the permeability and context-dependent nature of the divide between practical and discursive forms of consciousness. With this facet of structuration, Giddens (1984: 9) also offered a broad definition of agency as the capability of doing things: “Agency concerns events of which an individual is the perpetrator, in the sense that the individual could, at any phase in a given sequence of conduct, have acted differently.” This definition overlooks the agency that other theorists like Alfred Gell and Bruno Latour attribute to material culture (discussed further below). In 1982, Ian Hodder outlined the potential of practice theory for archaeology in his edited volume Symbolic and Structural Archaeology. In the introductory chapter, Hodder (1982) proposed a shift towards structuration as a means of critiquing the then-dominant strains of functionalism and structuralism in archaeological theory. He saw structuration as a move towards a contextual and cultural archaeology focused largely on “the role of material culture in the reflexive relationship between the structure of ideas and social strategies” (Hodder 1982: 1). The structural-functional frameworks of the New Archaeology (i.e., processual archaeology) operated on analogies between social and organic life à la Radcliffe-Brown (Hodder 1982: 2–6). These approaches focused heavily upon Practice Theory in Archaeology adaptation and systems theory in efforts to uncover and identify the laws governing cultural processes. According to Hodder, such approaches also operated on universalizing assumptions that change always emanated from outside the system (usually in the form of environmental transformations) and that material culture passively reflected the cultural system of which it was a part. Hodder critiqued these emphases on function and utility as inadequate for explaining cultural change, calling attention to the New Archaeology’s skewed focus on universalized cultural “laws” over specific historical contexts and its privileging of collectivities over their constituents (e.g., individuals, material culture, space). Hodder (1982: 7-9) found similar flaws in structuralism, which he again remedied with reference to practice theory. Structuralists fixated upon the codes and rules of culture and society situated in people’s heads. They assumed that the regularities of these codes and rules manifested themselves in observable patterns of interrelations in the world like the polarities of the Kabyle household described by Bourdieu. Echoing Bourdieu’s critiques, Hodder found structural approaches inadequate due to their lack of a theory of practice, their inability to explain change across space or time, and their disregard for the individuals of which the observed collectivities were comprised. For Hodder, structuration offered a means of challenging the assumed reflective relationships between thoughts and things while acknowledging the ways in which symbols, actions, and materials were meaningfully constituted and active in societies. In 2001 Timothy Pauketat (2001a) reiterated the importance of practice theory in archaeology by identifying it as the core component of historical processualism, what he saw as an emergent paradigm. Pauketat described historical processualism as a reconciliation of processual and postprocessual archaeologies. This new approach shied away from earlier archaeologies’ foci on behavior and evolution to consider the importance of context and history via theories of practice (Pauketat 2001a: 73). He framed 6113 P these new foci in stark contrast to previous generations’ interests in behavior and evolution: The critical distinction boils down to the fact that behavior (abstract, goal-oriented human activity) is not practice (homologous actions and representations that vary between contexts or events even in the routinized forms—say cooking in pots—seem to remain the same). From a practice perspective, the locus of microscale and macroscale change is people acting out or representing their dispositions in social contexts. Pauketat reviewed three current approaches in archaeology – neo-Darwinism, cognitiveprocessualism, and agency theory – in order to demonstrate their shared focus on issues of practice and history. Following thinkers like Bourdieu, Pauketat (2001a: 74) pointed out that practices are loci of change. In contrast to earlier approaches in archaeological theory based upon functionalism and systems theory, cultural practices are cultural processes rather than their consequences. Although the term historical processualism never fully caught on, practicebased approaches and the cross-fertilization of both processual and postprocessual archaeologies now represent major components of archaeology in the twenty-first century. Key Issues/Current Debates In this section I discuss four reoccurring themes studied and debated among archaeologists taking influence from practice theory: (1) power and agency, (2) identity, (3) cultural interaction, and (4) cultural continuity and change. Issues of power and agency loom large in all considerations of practice. Archaeologists often disagree on the potential that actors have to transform the social structures around them. On one extreme are those that see the overarching structures of society – constantly reproduced by the individuals enmeshed within – as rigidly deterministic; these thinkers portray actors as essentially powerless in relation to the surrounding collectivity or environment. On the other extreme are those that treat actors as all knowing and ever capable of transforming social structures according to their specific intentions and goals P P 6114 (see Joyce & Lopiparo 2005: 366). Although some archaeologists read these extremes (typically the former) in the theories of practice presented by Bourdieu and Giddens (e.g., Hodder & Hutson 2003: 93), most place Bourdieu’s recursivity and Giddens’ duality of structure on a middle ground, recognizing the inextricable nature of agency and structure (Jones 1997: 89-90). In addition to these theories, a third and surprisingly underutilized model of practice for archaeologists comes from the work of social theorist Michel de Certeau (1984). His concept of tactics emphasizes the recursive relationship between individuals and social structures, acknowledging the roles that individuals play in manipulating and shaping the system while still addressing limitations and unintended outcomes of action. At the heart of each of these approaches lies the issue of agency (Giddens 1984; Dobres & Robb 2000; Joyce & Lopiparo 2005), or the ability of individuals, groups, and even material cultural to act upon and shape society. Archaeologists often use this concept to address the roles that social entities play in processes of cultural continuity and change (discussed further below). It should be noted that agentive action – both a structured structure and a structuring structure from Bourdieu’s perspective – has the potential to result in both stability and/or transformation. Although Bourdieu, Giddens, and de Certeau each positioned agency within processes of cultural reproduction in a distinct manner than the next, all emphasized the simultaneity of structure and agency. On a similar note, Rosemary Joyce and Jeanne Lopiparo (2005: 365) point out the interpretive dangers of treating agency and structure as intermittent, “as an alternation of moments of the exercise of agency in an otherwise continuous flow of structure,” rather than as constant and seamless. The second theme, social identity, represents another key area of study in contemporary archaeology. Practice-based approaches often focus on the ways in which individuals and groups construct and negotiate their identities via the material world. For example, Siân Jones (1997) employed Bourdieu’s theory of practice in Practice Theory in Archaeology her considerations of ethnic identity and material culture, while Diana DiPaolo Loren (2001) used the concept of doxa in her study of dressing practices and their roles in both French and Native American identity construction within the colonial politics of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century North America. Similar to the perspectives it offers identity studies, practice theory also sheds new light on the dynamism of cultural interaction, particularly in instances of cultural contact and colonialism. For example, Kent Lightfoot, Antoinette Martinez, and Ann Schiff (1998) used a practice-based approach in their analysis of cultural admixture in interethnic households of the Native Alaskan neighborhood at Colony Ross, a nineteenth-century Russian fur-trading settlement in northern California. The neighborhood was composed of households, usually occupied by couples of Native Alaskan men and local Kashaya Pomo women. Lightfoot et al. (1998: 209-15) found that domestic routines of households usually followed Kashaya Pomo traditions, while the overall village structure was based upon traditional Native Alaskan ordering schemes. In this instance, both Kashaya Pomo women and Native Alaskan men reproduced “traditional” forms of their culture, making their interethnic households hybrid in nature (see also Silliman 2001 and 2009 for examples of practicebased approaches to colonialism in North America). The fourth theme, cultural continuity and change, connects closely with all of the themes discussed above. Given this theme’s centrality in all forms of archaeology, it may represent the most influential and productive application of practice theory in the field. Tim Pauketat (2001b) frames the insights that practice theory sheds on issues of cultural continuity and change in terms of traditions. In contrast to earlier generations of archaeologists that treated traditions as conservative and resistant to change, Pauketat (2001b: 2) views traditions as practices brought from the past into the present. Instead of approaching traditions as the constant variables of culture, Pauketat takes a contextual practicebased approach and frames traditions as arenas of Practice Theory in Archaeology cultural transformation. As individuals and groups “replicate” the traditional practices of their ancestors, they always introduce some degree of change (e.g., invoking these traditions in new temporal, spatial, and social contexts). Stephen Silliman (2009) takes this general idea one step further by arguing that cultural continuity and change are inseparable, forever fused to one another within the seamless whole of cultural reproduction. Future Directions Although not always directly tied to thinkers like Bourdieu or Giddens, contemporary interests in material culture theory embody the recursive spirit of practice theory. The last 15 years or so represent an important stage for the interdisciplinary study of material culture as evinced by the founding of the Journal of Material Culture in 1996 and a recent proliferation of books, journal articles, edited volumes, and conference papers addressing the interconnectedness of material culture and social relations. This trend fostered a notable fluorescence of studies that make use of the term “materiality” in fields as diverse as anthropology, archaeology, design studies, history, human geography, museology, philosophy, and sociology. Most thinkers making use of the term “materiality” are dedicated to moving beyond the dichotomous legacies of the Cartesian divide of mind and body which permeates much of social science, cleaving the material and the immaterial, nature and culture, and the object and the subject. In light of the dialectical (and recursive) pull that exists between people and things, thinkers such as Alfred Gell and Bruno Latour recognize that agency is not limited to humans alone. Archaeologists following in these directions note that the things they excavate and analyze were deeply embedded in past societies and cultures (or networks à la Latour) in relationships far more complicated than mere reflection. By continuing to recognize that humans and objects are dialectically bound and thus inseparable in terms of social analysis, archaeologists have 6115 P begun to explore the culturally specific manners in which the material world participates in past social relations. This participation hinges upon the recursive interconnections pointed out in Bourdieu’s practice theory, Giddens’ theory of structuration, and the many iterations of practice theory employed in contemporary archaeology. Cross-References ▶ Agency in Archaeological Theory ▶ Ethnic Identity and Archaeology ▶ Post-Processual Archaeology ▶ Post-Processualism, Development of ▶ Power and Knowledge in Archaeology ▶ Social Identity in Historical Archaeology ▶ Structural Archaeology References BOURDIEU, P. 1977. Outline of a theory of practice. Translated by R. Nice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. - 1990. The logic of practice. Translated by R. Nice. Stanford: Stanford University Press. BUTLER, J. 1993. Bodies that matter: on the discursive limits of “sex”. New York: Routledge. DE CERTEAU, M. 1984. The practice of everyday life. Translated by S. Rendall. Berkeley: University of California Press. DOBRES, M. & J. ROBB. (ed.) 2000. Agency in archaeology. New York: Routledge. GIDDENS, A. 1979. Central problems in social theory: action, structure, and contradiction in social analysis. London: MacMillan Press. - 1984. The constitution of society: outline of a theory of structuration. Cambridge: Polity Press. HODDER, I. 1982. Theoretical archaeology: a reactionary view, in I. Hodder (ed.) Symbolic and structural archaeology: 1-16. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. HODDER, I. & S. HUTSON. 2003. Reading the past: current approaches to interpretation in archaeology, 3rd edn. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. JONES, S. 1997. The archaeology of ethnicity: constructing identities in the past and present. New York: Routledge. JOYCE, R. A. & J. LOPIPARO. 2005. Postscript: doing agency in archaeology. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory 12(4): 365-74. LIGHTFOOT, K. G., A. MARTINEZ & A. M. SCHIFF. 1998. Daily practice and material culture in pluralistic social P P 6116 settings: an archaeological study of cultural change and persistence from Fort Ross, California. American Antiquity 63(2): 199-222. LOREN, D. D. 2001. Orthodoxies and practices of dressing in the early colonial Lower Mississippi Valley. Journal of Social Archaeology 1(2): 172-89. ORTNER, S. B. 1984. Theory in anthropology since the sixties. Comparative Studies in Society and History 26(1): 126-66. PAUKETAT, T. R. 2001a. Practice and history in archaeology: an emerging paradigm. Anthropological Theory 1(1): 73-98. - 2001b. A new tradition in archaeology, in T. Pauketat (ed.) The archaeology of traditions: agency and history before and after Columbus: 1-16. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. SAHLINS, M. 1985. Islands of history. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. SILLIMAN, S. W. 2001. Agency, practical politics and the archaeology of culture contact. Journal of Social Archaeology 1(2): 190-209. - 2009. Change and continuity, practice and memory: Native American persistence in colonial New England. American Antiquity 74(2): 211-30. SMITH, A. T. 2001. The limitations of doxa: agency and subjectivity from an archaeological point of view. Journal of Social Archaeology 1(2): 190-209. Pragmatism in Archaeological Theory Dean Saitta Department of Anthropology, University of Denver, Denver, CO, USA Introduction Over the past 25 years, the dual nature of archaeology has been widely recognized and accepted by scholars working within the field. On the one hand, archaeology is a rigorous search for truth about the ancient past. On the other, it is a political dialogue with the present. This accepted fact has been accompanied by a sea change in philosophy and theory. A number of important critiques by scholars located worldwide have moved archaeology away from empiricist and positivist epistemologies to various “realist” alternatives. These alternatives (1) appreciate that knowledge is constructed and Pragmatism in Archaeological Theory produced from particular social standpoints; (2) support, because of standpoint sensitivity, theoretical inquiries into gender, race, class, and other structuring relationships in human life; (3) recognize that, even though empirical reality constrains what we can say about the past, there is still lots of room for interpretation; and (4) incorporate, because of theory’s inevitable underdetermination by data, broader criteria of evaluation beyond an interpretation’s correspondence with archaeological facts and its logical coherence. The influence of the “postmodern” turn in intellectual life is evident here, but so are influences emanating from many other “post-positivist” philosophies of science. These philosophical commitments come together in what has been promoted as a social archaeology (e.g., contributors to Meskell & Preucel 2004). Social archaeology is focused on how different people inscribe meaning in space and time and, through these processes of inscription, construct themselves. It looks to engage multiple interests in the past, especially those of historically disenfranchised groups. These include all those indigenous and descendant populations marginalized by expanding capitalism and who have been famously described as “people without history” (Wolf 1982). Social archaeology is thus a more inclusive, democratic practice that appreciates “the multiple entailments of our being-in-the-world” (Meskell & Preucel 2004: 3). This is not simply politics by other means; rather, it is good science. Our ability to grasp and learn from the otherness of the past can be enhanced by an engagement with traditional knowledges. In Bernstein’s (1988) words, “it is only by the serious encounter with what is other, different, and alien that we can hope to determine what is idiosyncratic, limited, and partial.” While serious engagement with stakeholders located outside the academic realm offers particular frustrations and challenges in reconstructing the past, it nonetheless makes us aware of silences that we have been creating and opens up new research directions. Such engagement is right at home in an archaeology that not only seeks to explain but also emancipate, that is, to foster critical thought about the contemporary Pragmatism in Archaeological Theory human condition in hopes of impelling positive social change (Saitta 2008). Definition Pragmatist philosophical principles are especially compatible with, and indeed crucial for advancing, a critical social archaeology. Preucel and Mrozowski (2010: 28) define pragmatism as the “distinctive American philosophy that holds that the meaning of ideas or action can be determined by considering what idea or action it routinely generates, that is to say, its practical consequences.” They note that pragmatism has never been, and is not today, a unified approach. There are many debates about what the founders of pragmatism (Charles Sanders Pierce, William James, John Dewey) meant and about the accuracy of various contemporary interpretations (e.g., those of Richard Bernstein and, especially, Richard Rorty). Preucel and Mrozowski briefly review some of the ways that pragmatism has been employed by archaeologists. This entry focuses on the influences of Dewey and Rorty. John Dewey captures the essence of the approach with his notion that pragmatism turns from the “problems of philosophy” to the “problems of men” (Dewey 1917). That is, it applies itself less toward knowing or “getting things right” (in terms of capturing some final transcendental truth) than toward living or “making things new” (Rorty 1989). For pragmatists, making things new requires that we improve our ability to respond to the views, interests, and concerns of ever larger groups of diverse human beings – to expand the scope of who counts as “one of us” (Rorty 1989). Thus, pragmatism seamlessly dovetails with the kind of sensibility that equips practitioners for using the craft of archaeology (sensu Shanks & McGuire 1996: a “unified practice of hand, heart, mind” and “emotion, need, desire”) to address human needs. Pragmatism does so without abandoning time-honored and still useful concepts of truth, experience, and testing. Instead, it reformulates these concepts in a way more sensitive to meeting human need. In so 6117 P doing it responds more directly – and perhaps more coherently and honestly – to the widespread consensus that archaeological work occurs in a political context, and that we must therefore be aware of how the results of our inquiries are used within that context. A brief summary of core pragmatist philosophical commitments follows. The first core commitment is to an antifoundational notion of truth – the idea that there are no fixed, stable grounds on which knowledge claims can be established. Truth is not an accurate reflection of something nonhuman; rather, it is a matter of intersubjective consensus among human beings, one mediated by currently available theories, methods, and data. This notion produces a warrant for aggressively experimenting with theory and method in order to arrive at historical truth. Experimentation is crucial for improving and expanding the conversation between and among interested parties of scientists and citizens. It is the vitality of this conversation that moves archaeology and its constituencies toward the sorts of “usable truths” that can serve human need. So understood, pragmatism moves us in directions other than those stipulated by the earliest commentators on archaeology’s social relevance. The “New Archaeology” that burst upon the scene in the 1960s sought to establish such relevance when it explicitly cast archaeology as a science and argued “it is anthropology or nothing.” However, advocates like Ford (1973) still saw the “indiscriminant publication of unverified hunches” as an obstacle to archaeology’s ability to serve humanity. Today, liberal production and publication of such hunches is seen as critical for advancing archaeology’s explanatory and emancipatory project. The second core commitment is to the idea that truth claims must be evaluated against a broader notion of experience. Specifically, they must be evaluated in terms of their concrete consequences for life today – for how we want to live as a pluralistic community. Instead of simply asking whether a claim about the past is empirically sufficient in light of available data, pragmatism asks what difference the claim makes P P 6118 to how we want to live. What are the implications of theoretical claims from evolutionary archaeology, interpretive archaeology, post-colonial archaeology, or indeed any other current framework for understanding society and history for how we think about, and how we might intervene in, human social life? To what extent does a truth claim expeditiously meet the human needs at stake in, say, reburial or repatriation controversies; that is, to what extent does it facilitate putting human souls to rest and human minds at ease? “Experience,” in this view, is relational, interactive, and creative. It acknowledges our status as social and historical beings and thus is self-consciously reflexive. Defining experience in this way means that we must subsume the usual realist “criterial” rationality for judging truth claims (i.e., criteria emphasizing logical coherence and correspondence between theory and data) under something that is still broadly criterial but much more qualitative and humanistic – what Rorty (1989) has termed “fuzzy” rationality. A third commitment is to a particular notion of “testing,” specifically as it relates to the evaluation of truth claims produced by different standpoints, perspectives, and cultural traditions. As noted, especially germane to archaeology these days are those truth claims that divide scientific and various descendant community knowledges of the past, including indigenous, immigrant, working class, and other “folk” knowledges. Many have argued that within archaeology, there is no clear epistemology for uniting descendant community and mainstream scientific understandings of the past. Several scholars have advocated a rethinking of epistemology now that previously disenfranchised groups have places at the table. In contrast to the mainstream scientific view where competing ideas are tested against each other in light of the empirical record, pragmatism stipulates that we test the ideas of other cultures and descendant communities by “weaving” them together with ones we already have (Rorty 1989). Testing is a matter of interweaving and continually reweaving webs of belief so as to increasingly expand and deepen community and, perhaps, create new fields of Pragmatism in Archaeological Theory action. Pragmatism prescribes a “measured relativism” that balances a commitment to evaluation with the parallel belief that cultural pluralism is our best recipe for civil cohesion. Latour (1999: 4) captures the same basic idea with his notion of a “sturdy relativism” in which science allows us to be sure of many things but also seeks to make better connections with the wider social collective. For Latour, this relativism is not one that capitulates to “anything goes” or, in his words, to the “frantic disorderly mob.” The specter of objectivity haunts these core philosophical commitments. What does objectivity mean in this context? And do we abandon all hope of attaining it by embracing a pragmatist orientation? The notion of objectivity endorsed by pragmatists, as alluded to above, is one that can be described as dialectical. Dialectical objectivity takes a particular stance toward the subjectivity of the knower. Whereas other kinds of objectivity seek either to exclude subjectivity (absolute objectivity) or contain it (disciplinary objectivity), dialectical objectivity adopts a positive attitude toward subjectivity. Subjectivity is seen as indispensable to the constituting of objects, as in fact necessary for objectivity. As Heidegger (1927) notes, objects first become known to us through action in the world. Knowing is thus acting, and human acting is always acting in company (Fabian 1994). These arguments close the loop to a concept of “objective truth” as a matter of intersubjective consensus – or solidarity – among human beings, rather than as a matter of accurate reflection of something nonhuman. This pragmatist notion of objectivity differs a bit from realist notions that are still widely invoked in contemporary archaeology. Realist objectivity stipulates that there is an independent reality, that alternative accounts map it differently, and that, while hope and bias complicate the picture, systematic exploration of similarity and difference can establish credible knowledge claims and produce more complete understandings of the past. Binford (1982) famously characterized this kind of objectivity as “operational objectivity.” This qualified notion of objectivity has been endorsed by Pragmatism in Archaeological Theory archaeologists working across the paradigmatic spectrum. Thus, processual archaeologists have called for a “mitigated objectivity,” contextualists a “guarded” or “modified” objectivity, and feminists an “embodied objectivity.” The rub is that such notions of objectivity, no matter how well qualified, still might not be best for regulating a more democratic, inclusive, and critical social archaeology. Pragmatism’s commitment to “testing” the beliefs of other cultures by interweaving and continually reweaving them with beliefs that we already have best supports an integrative approach to settling differences between indigenous and scientific knowledges. The navigational guide in these encounters is something fully human – wider, deeper, stronger, and better community – rather than some socially independent object that we seek to accurately represent in theory. Key Issues/Current Debates How can a pragmatist archaeology concretely serve this enlargement of community, especially when many public constituencies are still utterly indifferent to whether archaeology exists or not? How can we find some measure of integration in the new, post-colonial world? One obvious way is through the production of knowledge that takes stock of neglected peoples and histories and that focuses on questions other than the kinds of “origins questions” – about the evolution of humanity, agriculture, and civilization – that have traditionally anchored archaeology’s more popular writing. Of interest are questions about the “lived experience” of everyday life – its conditions, variations, rhythms, and disjunctions – with answers developed in such a way that they are accessible to those living peoples having a stake in the interpretations. This ambition is only realizable if those whose lives are affected are directly involved in the research enterprise as partners and collaborators, instead of just subjects or informants. Archaeology has been making good progress in reaching out to these groups. New understandings of the past are being developed 6119 P by the “subaltern” archaeologies of women and racialized others, and by anti- and post-colonial archaeologies focused on indigenous peoples and their histories. Efforts to develop a “working class” archaeology in the United States are cut from similar cloth (e.g., Saitta 2007; Shackel 2009). Archaeologies of labor are gaining increasing visibility in the States and catching up with those that have been developed elsewhere. A critical history of early twentieth-century coal miners in southern Colorado (Saitta 2007) is one that has been offered as an antidote to official histories of the American West. Official histories – especially in the West – are nationalist, progressive, and triumphal, emphasizing social unity and continuity of the existing social order and its institutions (Bodnar 1992). They gloss over periods of transformation and rupture or spin those ruptures (e.g., the American Civil War) as always having produced a better society, “a more perfect union.” Alternatively, critical histories deal with context, transformation, and rupture, addressing both the historical process and different narratives about that process. Both kinds of history often conflict with vernacular (Bodnar 1992) histories of the past. Vernacular histories are local histories derived from the first-hand, everyday experience of those people who were directly involved with history’s events. They are “passed around the kitchen table,” conveying “what social reality feels like rather than what it should be like” (Bodnar 1992: 14). Vernacular histories threaten the sacred and timeless nature of official history, just as critical history threatens vernacular history. Archaeological work in the American West has produced useful, mutually beneficial dialogue with people steeped in vernacular history, such as trade unionists. The vast majority of these people have never had much use for archaeology, realist, or otherwise. Others in the same unionist company, however, are keenly aware that history is complicated and can be written in a lot of ways, all of them deeply political. The gulf between academic and working class cultures, no matter where it is found around the world, is still palpable. We may or may not need P P 6120 a working class archaeology, but it certainly seems that we need a different way of justifying it. A key to narrowing the cultural gulf is to appreciate that sites of industrial and class struggle are part of a living history and long commemorative tradition and often considered sacred ground by descendant communities. Progress is also being made in coping with the other, arguably more difficult conflicts in archaeological interpretation, such as surround compliance with the United States’ Native American Graves Protection and Recovery Act (NAGPRA). These conflicts, especially, beg for pragmatic interventions more attuned to “living” than “knowing.” By law, NAGPRA compliance is governed by a realist, criterial rationality. The success of a claim for cultural affiliation depends on whether it is supported by most of the available biological, linguistic, archaeological, and documentary evidence. In this scheme native oral traditions are assigned an evidentiary status equal to other kinds of scientific evidence. However, NAGPRA’s “preponderance of evidence” criterion remains deeply problematic, both because of the elastic nature of evidence in archaeology (resulting from the particular quality of archaeological data combined with the fact that such data only become “evidence” in light of theory) and because of the often deep contentiousness of tribal oral traditions. Given this situation, a realist, criterial rationality may not be the most appropriate or productive. Instead, we might follow the lead of those pragmatist philosophers and Native Americans who suggest that a more important and relevant criterion is the consequences of knowledge claims for everyday life: for how we want to live, and for the building of a genuinely pluralist community characterized by mutual understanding and respect. In the American Southwest, for example, Pueblo Indian tribal representatives implicitly endorse pragmatist evaluative criteria where they argue, in so many words, that history is less important than survival and the maintenance of harmonious relationships among the tribes. Survival is understood broadly as political, economic, and cultural. Naranjo (1996: 249) Pragmatism in Archaeological Theory takes such a stand where she asserts that, in her view, the Pueblo Indian’s primary concern is with “the larger issues of ¼ breathing and dying,” rather than with the specific details of knowing that focus scientific world views. This concern for the present as well as the past – for living as well as knowing – represents a significant convergence between pragmatist and tribal epistemologies that is worth exploiting for its unifying potential. But this unity can only be established if we are willing to rethink the usual scientific criteria – that is, empirical and logical sufficiency – for judging and integrating knowledge claims. Other convergences are apparent in the realm of methodology. Speaking at a conference dedicated to the topic of “Indigenous People and Archaeology,” Lomaomvaya and Ferguson (2003) note that: In Hopi culture, what stands the test of time is substantive information about the past. Collection and analysis of data requires theory, but for Hopi it is the Hopi past itself that is most important, not what we think this past means for the world beyond Hopi. This primary interest in archaeological “thick description” of a particular past converges with the pragmatist belief that human solidarity is best achieved not by those disciplines – theology, science, and philosophy – charged with “penetrating behind the many private appearances to the one general common reality” but rather by those which sensitize humans to the experience of diverse “others” through exploration of the private and idiosyncratic. Rorty (1989: 94) notes that “novels and ethnographies” are especially well suited to building this kind of solidarity. Archaeological narratives attuned to human cultural variability across space and time, and developed via more reflexive and hermeneutic methodologies, can be just as useful. Despite its critique of criterial rationality and preference for “thick description” over nomothetics, the pragmatist alternative need not be anti-science. This is a perennial criticism of scholars involved in building a critical archaeology. In the pragmatist view, and all things being Pragmatism in Archaeological Theory equal, science is an excellent model of human community and solidarity (Rorty 1989: 15). But, unfortunately, all things are rarely equal. Where compromises are required, it is science that must lead the way, since it has for too long (and as a consequence of unequal power relationships in society) dominated and silenced other ways of knowing. In his Federalist Paper No. 10, the American founder James Madison noted the threat to community presented by “majority factions.” For Madison, the best corrective to the majoritarian threat was enlarging the scope of community, that is, the number of interests represented at the table of democracy. To the extent that mainstream, realist science is a majority faction in American archaeology, it poses the greatest threat to the project of reconciling competing knowledges and expanding community. Archaeologists and subaltern “others” alike tend to cringe at any call for compromise in the service of reconciliation and stronger community. But Rorty (1998: 52) provides some comfort when he reminds us that, in democratic societies, “you often get things done by compromising principles in order to form alliances with groups about whom you have grave doubts.” Future Directions Pragmatism emphasizes ways of living instead of rules for knowing, the “weaving together” of knowledges instead of their “validation against” experience, and the social utility of narratives instead of the absolute truth of laws and theories. These governing ideals neither forsake reality nor undermine the possibilities for learning, nor capitulate to relativism in the way that term is usually understood. Pragmatism subsumes Enlightenment criterial rationality and nomothetics to more humanistic – but no less explicit and compelling – regulative ideals. In so doing, it converges with the epistemologies of subaltern groups – native peoples and working classes – for whom the social causes and consequences of scientific knowledge claims can be of great 6121 P concern. This in turn promises a more collaborative and democratic, and less authoritarian, archaeology. At the same time, pragmatism usefully breaks with both the analytical (empiricist, positivist) and continental (post-positivist) philosophical traditions that so many around the world have found wanting as underpinnings for contemporary archaeological practice. The desirable outcome of pragmatism’s advocacy of these particular notions of truth, experience, and testing is stronger community – richer and better human activity – rather than some singular, final truth about the past or some imagined “more comprehensive” or “more complete” account of history. The loyalty in pragmatism is to other human beings struggling to cope rather than to the realist hope of getting things right; the desire is for solidarity rather than objectivity. Pragmatist philosophy is thus fully compatible with the theoretical interests of an archaeology of collective action. It also meets those criteria enunciated by scholars seeking a more ethical practice (e.g., contributors to Lynott & Wylie 2000). These include the need to be selfconscious of one’s subjectivity, accountable for one’s presuppositions and claims, and responsive to the various constituencies having an interest in the past. Pragmatism’s ethical imperatives dovetail especially nicely with archaeologies of civic engagement and those that employ “service learning” as a pedagogical tool (e.g., Nassaney 2004) whereby we, as contributors to public knowledge, use our knowledge to serve the public good – whatever we take “public good” to mean. Whether these ethical principles are best theorized as universal (good for all times and places) or situational (a matter of comparing time and space-bound practices with each other) is subject to debate. Rorty’s (2001) position that community-building is best served by situationalism or, in his terms, “ethnocentrism” is particularly useful: that there is more to be gained by replacing the Enlightenment rationalist commitment to universal moral obligations with the rather more modest idea that we – as P P 6122 Westerners, intellectuals, archaeologists, or whatever – merely have some instructive and possibly persuasive stories to tell that might help to build trust across the boundaries that divide us from others. On this view, moral and ethical progress is viewed as an expansion in the number of people among whom unforced agreement can be established through free and open encounters (Rorty 1991). Pragmatism’s emphasis on narrative and conversation is perhaps its greatest gift to a discipline like archaeology. Indeed, these commitments fit well with those who see archaeology today – given the diversity of theories, methods, and voices that have come to characterize it – as less a well-defined, bounded discipline than a fluid set of negotiated interactions, as less a “thing” than a “process.” This “community of discourses” (Hodder 2001), while threatening what some might see as an unproductive dispersion of scientific energy, is mostly to the good if it stimulates imagination and experimentation, sustains intellectual vitality, and produces better understandings of the past as well as better and stronger community. Cross-References ▶ Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA), USA ▶ Post-Processual Archaeology ▶ Social Archaeology References BERNSTEIN, R. 1988. The new constellation. Cambridge: MIT Press. BINFORD, L. R. 1982. Objectivity—explanation—archaeology, 1981, in C. Renfrew, M. Rowlands & B. Segraves (ed.) Theory and explanation in archaeology: 125-38. New York: Academic Press. BODNAR, J. 1992. Remaking America: public memory, commemoration, and patriotism in the twentieth century. Princeton: Princeton University Press. DEWEY, J. 1917. The need for a recovery of philosophy, in Creative intelligence: essays in the pragmatic attitude: 3-69. New York: Henry Holt. Pragmatism in Archaeological Theory FABIAN, J. 1994. Ethnographic objectivity revisited: from rigor to vigor, in A. Megill (ed.) Rethinking objectivity: 81-108. Durham: Duke University Press. FORD, R. 1973. Archaeology serving humanity, in C. Redman (ed.) Research and theory in current archaeology: 83-93. New York: Wiley. HEIDEGGER, M. 1927. Being and time. San Francisco: Harper. HODDER, I. 2001. Introduction: a review of contemporary theoretical debates in archaeology, in I. Hodder (ed.) Archaeological theory today: 1-13. Cambridge: Polity Press. LATOUR, B. 1999. Pandora’s hope: essays on the reality of science studies. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. LOMAOMVAYA, M. & T.J. FERGUSON. 2003. Hisatqatsit Aw Maamatslalwa—comprehending our past lifeways: thoughts about a Hopi archaeology, in T. Peck, E. Siegfried & G. Oetelaar (ed.) Indigenous people and archaeology: 43-51. Calgary: The Archaeological Association of the University of Calgary. LYNOTT, M. & A. WYLIE. (ed.) 2000. Ethics in American archaeology. Washington: Society for American Archaeology. MESKELL, L. & R. PREUCEL. (ed.) 2004. A companion to social archaeology. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. NARANJO, T. 1996. Thoughts on migration by Santa Clara Pueblo. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 14: 247-50. NASSANEY, M. 2004. Implementing community service learning through archaeological practice. Michigan Journal of Community Service Learning 10(3): 89-99. PREUCEL, R. & S. MROZOWSKI. 2010. The new pragmatism, in R. Preucel & S. Mrozowski (ed.) Contemporary archaeology in theory: the new pragmatism: 1-50. Maiden: Wiley-Blackwell. RORTY, R. 1989. Science as solidarity, in H. Lawson & L. Appignanesi (ed.) Dismantling truth: reality in the postmodern world: 6-23. New York: Martin’s Press. - 1991. Objectivity, relativism, and truth. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. - 1998. Achieving our country: leftist thought in twentieth century America. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. - 2001. Justice as a larger loyalty, in M. Festenstein & S. Thompson (ed.) Richard Rorty: critical dialogues: 223-37. Oxford: Blackwell. SAITTA, D. J. 2007. The archaeology of collective action. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. - 2008. Ethics, objectivity, and emancipatory archaeology, in P. Duke & Y. Hamilakis (ed.) Archaeology and capitalism: from ethics to politics: 267-80. Walnut Creek: Left Coast Press. SHACKEL, P. 2009. The archaeology of American labor and working-class life. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. SHANKS, M. & R. MCGUIRE. 1996. The craft of archaeology. American Antiquity 61: 75-88. WOLF, E. 1982. Europe and the people without history. Berkeley: University of California Press. Prehistoric Human Footprint Sites Prehistoric Human Footprint Sites Matthew R. Bennett1 and Sarita A. Morse2 1 Bournemouth University, Poole, UK 2 Evolutionary Morphology and Biomechanics Research Group, Department of Musculoskeletal Biology, Institute of Aging and Chronic Disease, University of Liverpool, Liverpool, UK Introduction Human footprints (Fig. 1) were thought to be rare in the geological record; freak occurrences of sedimentary preservation with prints providing evidence of past presence, biometric data on the print maker, and in the case of examples that predate Homo sapiens a rare glimpse into the locomotive behavior of our early ancestors. Recent discoveries, however, suggest that human footprints are more common than previously supposed; it is just that they have not always been correctly identified in cross-section or have paleoanthropologists always known where to look. Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples The oldest and most famous footprint site was discovered in the late 1970s at Laetoli in Tanzania and is dated to 3.66 million years ago (Leakey & Hay 1979: 1; Deino 2011). These prints have been widely discussed and where probably made by an ancestor similar to “Lucy” (Australopithecus afarensis; Charteris et al. 1981; Meldrum et al. 2011). Bennett et al. (2009) reported details of the second-oldest human footprint site in northern Kenya, dated to 1.5 million years ago and potentially made by Homo erectus. In Europe the “devils’” footprints in Italy have recently been dated to 345,000 years old and ascribed to Homo heidelbergensis (Mietto et al. 2003; Avanzini et al. 2008). In addition the number of discovered late 6123 P Pleistocene and Holocene footprint sites has grown rapidly (Fig. 1; Table 1). Footprint sites can be classified in a variety of ways but tend to fall into one of two broad types: • Congregation sites occur where humans, and/or animals, gather at a focal point within a cave, around a source of shelter or more commonly around a water source. Here, the print density is often high with a large amount of overprinting and taphonomic modification of prints and with intimate association of human and animal footprints. Footprint trails are relatively rare and when present tend to be short in length. • Transit sites occur where humans, and/or animals, are moving across a surface forming well-defined trails. It is often easier to make biomechanical inferences at such sites since the trails tend to be longer and the density of prints and associated overprinting is often lower, although the number of prints can often be relatively small such as the case at Laetoli. Footprints are preserved in any soft-sediment environment but are typically found in low-energy depositional environments where there is (1) rapid still water sedimentation postimprinting, for example, caused by the transgression of turbid lake/sea, or low-velocity flood waters; (2) rapid cementation by fine-grained debris/mud flows such as lahars or fine-grained ash flows; (3) pulses of airborne ash fall; (4) rapid post-imprinting lithification of sediment via desiccation, and/or salt cementation of silt/clay, as well as the chemical cementation of volcanic ash; and (5) avalanching and/or settling of dry aeolian sediment. Greater knowledge and exploration of these types of environments within the depositional record has the potential to increase the number of known human footprint sites as illustrated in the discoveries of recent years. While prints may be preserved in a wide variety of sedimentary environments, molding of fine anatomical detail tends to be favored by fine-grained substrates (Fig. 1), which need to be sufficiently dry to have the necessary bearing capacity to hold the weight of the P P 6124 Prehistoric Human Footprint Sites Prehistoric Human Footprint Sites, Fig. 1 Examples of human footprints preserved in Holocene silts and fine sands from Walvis Bay, Namibia. (a) Right adult footprint. (b) Left adult footprint showing slippage of the toes. (c) Right adult footprint with good anatomical preservation in fine sand and silt. (d) Trail of prints traversed left to right by an elephant and bovid trail. (e) Human footprint trail. (f) Child footprint showing detailed preservation including skin texture. (g) Child footprint with preservation of the forefoot and toe pads only individual print maker and sufficient strength so that they do not collapse as the foot is withdrawn. This is often favored by thinly bedded muds and fine sands which provide a relatively firm, freedraining substrate, but with good molding properties. The typology of footprints varies with substrate moisture content within fine-grained sediments as shown in Fig. 2. The traditional method of preservation and analysis involve the description of individual prints and casting with either plaster or more commonly resin. Manual photogrammetry was used at Laetoli (Leakey & Harris 1987), a process which has now been revolutionized by digital photogrammetry (Falkingham 2012). Bennett et al. (2009) has also pioneered the use of optical laser scanning as another viable method of digital data capture. Whichever way digital three-dimensional footprint data is collected, there is an increasing range of sophisticated analytical tools available to examine this data, not least of which are methods of “whole foot” analysis which allow mean footprints to be determined from trails, allowing more objective hypothesis testing (Crompton et al. 2012). For example, Fig. 3 shows a mean print of a 14-print trail from Walvis Bay in Namibia. The individual prints show considerable typological variation due to subtle variations in substrate properties, but by examining the mean, one is able to remove this noise and make anatomical and biomechanical inferences with a greater degree of certainty. This approach has been successfully applied to the Lateoli prints recently (Crompton et al. 2012). Whatever analytical approach is used, footprints and trails can be used to infer a range of information about the print maker. In Morton’s (1935) seminal work on the human foot, he established a basic anatomical ratio of foot length to stature or approximately 15 % (1:15). This has been refined into a range of empirical relationships which link foot length to subject Prehistoric Human Footprint Sites 6125 P Prehistoric Human Footprint Sites, Table 1 A selection of key footprint sites (see Lockley et al. (2008) for a more definitive list of known sites) Site Laetoli, Tanzania Ileret, Kenya Koobi Fora, Kenya Roccamonfina, Italy Nahoon, South Africa Chauvet Cave, France Willandra, Australia Jeju Island, S. Korea Transit Congregation site Key reference(s) site Yes Leakey & Hay 1979; Leakey & Harris 1987; Deino 2011 1.5 M yr Fluvio-lacustrine silt Yes Bennett et al. 2009 and fine sand 1.5 M yr Fluvio-lacustrine silt Yes Behrensmeyer & Laporte 1981; and fine sand Bennett et al. 2009 325–385 K yr Volcanic ash flow Yes Mietto et al. 2003; Avanzini et al. 2008 127 K yr Aeolian sediments Yes Roberts 2008 Age 3.66 M yr Substrate Volcanic ash 20–30 K yr Cave sediments 19–23 K yr Lacustrine silt and fine sands Shoreline volcaniclastic sediments Cave sediments Yes Coastal silt and fine sand Coastal silt and fine sand Volcanic ash Yes 15 K yr Jaguar Cave, Tennessee (USA) Uskmouth, Wales 4.6 K yr Sefton Coast, UK 5.5 K yr Acahualinca, Nicaragua Walvis Bay, Namibia 2.1 K yr 5.7–6.2 K yr 0.5–2 K yr Fluvio-lacustrine silt and fine sand Yes Garcia 2001 Webb et al. 2006 Kim et al. 2009 Yes Watson et al. 2005 Yes Alderhouse-Green et al. 1992; Allen 1997 Roberts et al. 1996 Yes Schmincke et al. 2009 Yes Kinahan 1996 P Marginal rim-structures Poorly defined mid-foot and heel Marked proximal sediment displacement Footprint formation by sediment compression Footprint formation by sediment displacement Decreasing substrate bearing capacity or strength Increasing subject weight Prehistoric Human Footprint Sites, Fig. 2 Model of the typological variation in footprints with changes in substrate properties height and weight (e.g., Robbins 1985; Webb et al. 2006). While these relationships provide an approximation for Homo sapiens, their applicability to our earlier ancestors is debatable. Inferences on walking speed can be made from step and stride length in trails given an estimate of a subjects leg length (Alexander 1984), although these are again limited by the availability of such P 6126 Prehistoric Human Footprint Sites Prehistoric Human Footprint Sites, Fig. 3 Illustration of the typological variation in human footprints within a single trail due to variation in substrate. Using a “whole foot” analytical approach such as that adopted by Compton et al. (2012), it is possible to calculate a mean and standard deviation for this trail information or the assumptions made in deriving plausible input data for extinct hominins. Human footprints also commonly occur in association with animal prints, providing information about the ecological community in which our ancestors lived, although issues of substrate sampling may bias the nature of this record (Falkingham et al. 2011). In summary, human footprints are preserved in a variety of depositional settings and have much to offer both the archaeological and paleoanthropological community. The foot is a complex structure of 22 bones held in place by a lattice of soft tissue. It interfaces with the ground to create pressures which decelerate, balance, and accelerate the body during walking and running. Human footprints provide a record of these forces, a record of “fossilized motion,” and a record of the forces our forebears applied to the ground to balance and propel their bodies. Cross-References ▶ Archaeology and Anthropology ▶ Archaic Homo sapiens ▶ Australopithecines ▶ Fossil Records of Early Modern Humans ▶ Geoarchaeology ▶ Homo erectus Prehistoric Human Footprint Sites ▶ Homo ergaster ▶ Homo habilis ▶ Homo heidelbergensis ▶ Homo neanderthalensis ▶ Homo sapiens ▶ Human Migration: Bioarchaeological Approaches ▶ Italy, Sicily, Malta, and the Lipari Islands: Prehistory ▶ Kinahan, John ▶ Lucy ▶ Neanderthals and Their Contemporaries ▶ Stature Estimation ▶ Taphonomy in Human Evolution References ALDHOUSE-GREEN, S. H. R., A. W. R. WHITTLE, J. R. L. ALLEN, A. E. CASELDINE, S. J. CULVER, M. H. DAY, J. LUNDQUIST & D. UPTON. 1992. Prehistoric human footprints from the Severn Estuary at Uskmouth and Magor Pill, Gwent, Wales. Archaeologia Cambrensis 149: 14-55. ALLEN, J. R. L. 1997. Subfossil mammalian tracks (Flandrian) in the Severn Estuary, SW Britain: mechanics of formation, preservation and distribution. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London B 352: 481-518. ALEXANDER, R. MCN. 1984. Stride length and speed for adults, children and fossil homids. American Journal of Physical Anthropology 63: 23-7. AVANZINI, M., P. MIETTO, A. PANARELLO, M. DE ANGELIS & G. ROLANDI. 2008. The Devil’s Trails: Middle Pleistocene human footprints preserved in a volcanoclastic deposit of southern Italy. Ichnos 15: 179-89. BEHRENSMEYER, A. K. & L. F. LAPORTE. 1981. Footprints of a Pleistocene hominid in northern Kenya. Nature 289: 167-9. BENNETT, M. R., J. W. K. HARRIS, B. G. RICHMOND, D. R. BRAUN, E. MBUA, P. KIURA, D. OLAGO, M. KIBUNJIA, C. OMUOMBO, A. K. BEHRENSMEYER, D. HUDDART & S. GONZALEZ. 2009. Early hominin foot morphology based on 1.5 million year old footprints from Ileret, Kenya. Science 323: 1197-1201. CHARTERIS, J., J. C. WALL & J. W. NOTTRODT. 1981. Functional reconstruction of gait from the Pliocene hominid footprints at Laetoli, northern Tanzania. Nature 290: 496-8. CROMPTON, R. H., T. C., PATAKY, R. SAVAGE, K. D’AOUT, M. R. BENNETT, M. H. DAY, K. BATES, S. A. MORSE & W. I. SELLERS. 2012. Human-like external function of the foot, and fully upright gait, confirmed in the 3.66 million year old Laetoli hominin footprints by topographic statistics, experimental 6127 P footprint-formation and computer simulation. Journal of the Royal Society Interface 9: 707-19. DEINO, A. L. 2011. 40Ar/39Ar dating of Laetoli, Tanzania, in H. Terry (ed.) Paleontology & geology of Laetoli: human evolution in context, Volume 1: 77-97. Dordrecht: Springer. FALKINGHAM, P. L. 2012. Acquisition of high resolution three-dimensional models using free, open-source, photogrammetric software. Palaeontologia Electronica 15(1): 15. Available at: www.palaeo-electronica.org/ 2011-techinal-articles-issue1/92-3d-photogrammetry. FALKINGHAM, P. L., K. T. BATES, L. MARGETTS & P.L. MANNING. 2011. The ‘Goldilocks’ effect: preservation bias in vertebrate track assemblages. Journal of the Royal Society Interface 8: 1142-54. GARCIA, M.-A. 2001. Les empreintes et les traces humaines et animals, in J. Clottes (ed.) La grotte Chauvet: l’art des origins: 34-43. Paris: Threshold, Sevil. KIM, K. S., J. Y. KIM, S. H. KIM, C. Z. LEE & J. D. LIM. 2009. Preliminary report on hominid and other vertebrate footprints from the late Quaternary strata of Jeju Island, Korea. Ichnos 16: 1-11. KINAHAN, J. 1996. Human and domestic animal tracks in an archaeological lagoon deposit on the coast of Namibia. South African Archaeological Bulletin 51: 94-8. LEAKEY, M. D. & J. M. HARRIS. 1987. Laetoli: a Pliocene site in northern Tanzania. Oxford: Clarendon Press. LEAKEY, M. D. & R. L. HAY. 1979. Pliocene footprints in the Laetoli beds at Laetoli, northern Tanzania. Nature 278: 317. LOCKLEY, M., G. ROBERTS & K. Y. KIM. 2008. In the footprints of our ancestors: an overview of the hominid track record. Ichnos 15: 106-25. MELDRUM, D. J., M. G. LOCKLEY, S. G. LUCAS & C. MUSIBA. 2011. Ichnotaxonomy of the Laetoli trackways: the earliest hominin footprints. Journal of African Earth Sciences 60: 1-12. MIETTO, P., M. AVANZINI & G. ROLANDI. 2003. Palaeontology: human footprints in Pleistocene volcanic ash. Nature 422: 133. MORTON, D.J. 1935. The human foot. Columbia: Columbia University Press. ROBBINS, L. M. 1985. Footprints: collection, analysis and interpretation. Springfield (IL): Thomas. ROBERTS, G., S. GONZALEZ & D. HUDDART. 1996. Inter-tidal Holocene footprints and their archaeological significance. Antiquity 70: 647–51. ROBERTS, D.L. 2008. Last interglacial hominid and associated vertebrate fossil trackways in coastal eolianites, South Africa. Ichnos 15: 190-207. SCHMINCKE, H.-U., S. KUTTEROLF, W. PEREZ, J. RAUSCH, A. FREUNDT & W. STRAUCH. 2009. Walking through volcanic mud: the 2,100 year old Acahualinca footprints (Nicaragua). Bulletin of Volcanology 71: 479-93. WATSON, P. J., M. C. KENNEDY, P. WILLEY, L. ROBBINS & R. C. WILSON. 2005. Prehistoric footprints in P P 6128 Jaguar Cave, Tennessee. Journal of Field Archaeology 30: 25-43. WEBB, S. M. L. CUPPER & R. ROBINS. 2006. Pleistocene human footprints from the Willandra Lakes, south eastern Australia. Journal of Human Evolution 50: 405-13. Further Reading KIM, J. Y., K. S. KIM, M. LOCKLEY & N. MATTHEWS. 2008. Hominid ichnotaxonomy: an exploration of a neglected discipline. Ichnos 15: 126-39. MORSE, S. A., M. R. BENNETT, S. GONZALEZ & D. HUDDART. 2010. Techniques for verifying human footprints: reappraisal of pre-Clovis footprints in central Mexico. Quaternary Science Reviews 29: 2571-8. TUTTLE, R. 2008. Footprint clues in hominid evolution and forensics: lessons and limitations. Ichnos 15: 158-65. Preservation Paradigm in Heritage Management Cornelius Holtorf School of Cultural Sciences, Linnaeus University, Kalmar, Sweden Preservation Paradigm in Heritage Management and reusing a given site or landscape in our age (Holtorf 2006). This history of a site and the story heritage can tell us is not damaged or diminished but actually enriched when something is added, modified, or taken away. The contemporary conservation ethos in cultural heritage is firmly situated in a specific historical and cultural context of European civilization of the past few centuries. The French architectural historian Françoise Choay (2001 [1992]: 139–42) used the phrase “Noah complex” and referred to “the religion of heritage,” “the cult of the historical monument,” and widely practiced “rites of an official cult of historic heritage.” This was echoed by economic historian Svante Beckman (1998: 32–9) who observed a peculiar “sacredness of cultural heritage” (my translation) in society, evoking piety and reverence, and by historical geographer David Lowenthal (1996: 1) who in his book on The Heritage Crusade described the cult of heritage as a popular faith in which the world has now started to rejoice: “heritage [has] become a selfconscious creed, whose shrines and icons daily multiply and whose praise suffuses public discourse.” Introduction The idea of preservation is the basic paradigm of all heritage management, including archaeological heritage management. Heritage experts often take for granted that remains of the past are inherently valuable and deserve to be maintained in perpetuity. A common slogan thus proclaims the need to “preserve the past for the future” (cf. Spennemann 2007). Therefore, archaeologists and other heritage experts do their best to preserve sites, objects, and the information they contain for the future. Preservation involves either the conservation of heritage in physical terms (“preservation in situ,” “stewardship”) or, in case a given site or object cannot be conserved, it involves recording and archiving the information it contains (“preservation by record”; “rescue archaeology”). From a life-history perspective of monuments and landscapes, heritage preservation can be considered as one major way of reinterpreting Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples References to a Noah complex and a semireligious cult of heritage point to that aspect of the contemporary concept of heritage that is most notorious and that, in a future perspective, is likely to become most noteworthy: the obsession with conservation, preservation, and protection. According to some commentators, conservation and preservation issues have taken over nearly the entire range of legitimate ways of being interested in the past. This is, for example, the main thrust of David Lowenthal’s study (1996) in which he argues that the lure of a heritage to be conserved now outpaces all other modes of relating to the past including tradition, memory, myth, memoir, and history. And in the words of archaeologist Graham Fairclough (2009: 158), one might add that Preservation Paradigm in Heritage Management [t]he obsession with physical conservation became so embedded in twentieth century mentalities that it is no longer easy to separate an attempt to understand the past and its meaning from agonising about which bits of it to protect and keep. It is almost as if one is not allowed to be interested in the past without wanting to keep or restore . . . the remains of the past, which seem to exist only to be preserved. The wide range of how the past is used by society has been reduced to the literal act of preserving its fabric. In that sense, history has been subsumed into heritage, scarcely having any independent existence. The logic of the preservation paradigm of contemporary heritage insists that what is valuable deserves to be protected and preserved by stewards for the benefit of future generations. Lately, this logic has, however, rightly attracted criticism (e.g., Holtorf 2006; Hollowell 2009). Given the way in which preservation and destruction are often entangled at the moment of discovery, when heritage is presented to various audiences and through the act of visiting and studying it, how can we separate one from the other? Are there conditions under which loss of heritage can be beneficial for future generations? How significant are stories about the past told by vandalized or obliterated heritage? Can the consumption and use of heritage for present benefits be more important than its preservation for the future? Does an obsession with preservation and stewardship of archaeological heritage prevent us from making informed decisions that are in the best interest of a majority of living people? Whom are the stewards of heritage actually accountable to and on what grounds? When will the future arrive in which the heritage can be consumed? If it never arrives, why preserve? Is not cultural heritage and its management always about changes over time anyway? It is far from certain whether or not preservation is contributing to shaping a future we want to live in. In an interesting debate on BBC News (2009), triggered by a recent cash crisis at the site of Auschwitz, the question raised was: “Should Auschwitz be left to decay?” Historian Robert Jan van Pelt argued that once the last survivor has died, the site as such will have little to tell to future visitors and should therefore be closed and peacefully left to decay out of respect to all those 6129 P who died there. Wladyslaw Bartoszewski, Chairman of the International Auschwitz Council, on the other hand, suggested that the site should continue to be preserved as a burning wound, to bear witness to the tragedy that happened there and as a future warning against all forms of contempt for mankind. But who is to say whether or not Auschwitz in 100 years from now will still be preserved and appreciated in ways we would approve of? Indeed, as we argued elsewhere (Holtorf & Ortman 2008: 87), it may be counterproductive to become too good at conserving heritage. Since future generations may perceive as less valuable what is common, they might become less appreciative and careful towards abundant heritage than they would otherwise have been – effectively rendering our own conservation efforts meaningless. The present concern for future generations in the heritage sector (as elsewhere) is neither a matter of altruistic self-sacrifice for the welfare of future human beings nor one of intergenerational equity. As the past and its remains are continuously growing every day, future generations cannot run out of past and there will always be plenty of cultural heritage to study and enjoy. Given changing notions of authenticity and fastdeveloping techniques of copying and reconstructing, it is also highly dubious whether the values of archaeological heritage are really nonrenewable (Holtorf 2005: Chaps. 7–8). The reason why people throughout the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries have been so obsessed with preserving heritage has much more to do with the present people who are doing the preserving than with the future people they are supposedly preserving for. As Lowenthal (2005) indicated, the existing concern for the future in heritage management has been “a matter of enriching our own life with depth and purpose.” As mortal human beings we pursue meaningful purposes that survive ourselves. Arguably, the widespread desire to protect and preserve heritage is nothing but one outcome of a strong human desire to obtain a sense of purpose by caring for something profound, whether that may be the ozone layer and global climate, homeless people and the fight against poverty, tigers P P 6130 and the protection of biodiversity or Stonehenge, and other cultural heritage sites (Holtorf & Ortman 2008). As a result of such preoccupation with our own all too human needs and desires to care and give the impression that we care, we have never asked which role we can expect heritage to play in the actual future which most definitely will not in its entirety resemble the present and thus require new policies and practices. Looking at the preservation of heritage from this perspective suggests its cultural and historical specificity and thus the realization that the preservation paradigm will not be forever. Indeed, it might not be too long before the very ideas of heritage and conservation will have turned out to be nothing but temporary fads of the nineteenth–twenty-first centuries. Within 100–200 years, somewhat ironically, heritage sites and related objects may have become a valuable and in part even threatened part of the cultural heritage. Future archaeologists, looking for explanations to the excessive desire to preserve in our age, will be able to draw on a rich material record of reconstructed buildings, restored artifacts, and archived reports (Fairclough 2009). Quite possibly, these future generations will appreciate conserved buildings and sites not so much because it allows them to remember the past (when the structures were built) but because it allows them to remember remembering the past (when the structures were “rescued” and conserved). This raises the intriguing and somewhat paradoxical question whether future generations may appreciate the heritage of heritage. Graham Fairclough (2009: 163–4) listed the following examples of physical remains that might still be identified in the future and become significant as heritage of heritage: re-pointed walls, repaired earthworks, reconstructed buildings, new roofs, repaired and maintained hedges and walls, red telephone boxes that postdate their usefulness to make phone calls, and not the least many preserved archaeological sites in the landscape and large amounts of archaeological finds kept in cardboard boxes in museum warehouses. One could add roadside Preservation Paradigm in Heritage Management signposts, guidebooks, access streets and paths, parking lots, information boards, bins, and other physical objects linked to heritage tourism. However, these remains may never become heritage of heritage, as the cult of heritage preservation and Noah complex may not prevail in the future. Instead, as the anthropologist Tim Ingold (2010) figured in an intriguing future scenario of the year 2053, archaeologists might appreciate things in terms of persistence rather than preservation. Persistent things originate continuously and like natural processes they carry on growing or decaying. By 2053, heritage experts may no longer take for granted that remains of the past are inherently valuable and deserve to be maintained in perpetuity. There would be no need to “preserve the past for the future” anymore. Cross-References ▶ Cultural Heritage and the Public ▶ Cultural Heritage Management: Cost and Benefit of Change ▶ Cultural Heritage Protection: The Legal Sphere ▶ Cultural Landscapes: Conservation and Preservation ▶ Heritage & Society ▶ Heritage, Changing Views of: A Legal Perspective ▶ Heritage: History and Context ▶ Looting and Vandalism (Cultural Heritage Management) ▶ Preserving Heritage: The Role of the Media References BBC NEWS. 2009. Should Auschwitz be left to decay? Available at http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/7827534.stm (accessed 27 Jan 2009; accessed again 29 Jan 2012, title has been changed). BECKMAN, S. 1998. Vad vill staten med kulturarvet? [What does the state want heritage for?], in A. Alzén & J. Hedrén (ed.) Kulturarvets natur: 13–49. Stockholm: Symposion. CHOAY, F. 2001. The invention of the historic monument [1992]. Translated by L. M. O’Connell. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Preserving Heritage: The Role of the Media FAIRCLOUGH, G. 2009. Conservation and the British, in J. Schofield (ed.) Defining moments: dramatic archaeologies of the twentieth-century (British Archaeological Reports International series 2005): 157–64. Oxford: Archaeopress. HOLLOWELL, J. 2009. Standpoints on stewardship in a global market for the material past, in L. Mortensen & J. Hollowell (ed.) Ethnographies and archaeologies: iterations of the past (Cultural Heritage Studies series): 218–39. Tallahassee: University Press of Florida. HOLTORF, C. 2005. From Stonehenge to Las Vegas. Archaeology as popular culture. Lanham: Altamira. - 2006. Can less be more? Heritage in the age of terrorism. Public Archaeology 5: 101–9. HOLTORF, C. & O. ORTMAN. 2008. Endangerment and conservation ethos in natural and cultural heritage: the case of zoos and archaeological sites. International Journal of Heritage Studies 14(1): 74–90. INGOLD, T. 2010. No more ancient; no more human: the future past of archaeology and anthropology, in D. Garrow & T. Yarrow (ed.) Archaeology and anthropology: 160–70. Oxford: Oxbow. LOWENTHAL, D. 1996. The heritage crusade and the spoils of history. London: Viking. - 2005. Stewarding the future. CRM: The Journal of Heritage Stewardship 2(2). Available at: http:// crmjournal.cr.nps.gov/. SPENNEMANN, D. H. R. 2007. The futurist stance of historical societies: an analysis of position statements. International Journal of Arts Management 9(2): 4–15. 6131 P archaeology (particularly the more spectacular finds) first through telegraphs and telephones, then in the twentieth century through movies, radio, and television, and, most recently, through the computer and the Internet. Presently, archaeologists use all of the various types of artistic, broadcast, electronic, and print media to more widely and rapidly promote the documentation and preservation of the many international cultural heritage sites at risk from neglect, war, vandalism, misuse, land development, agriculture, looting, and artificial and natural alterations and disasters. Archaeologists have consistently adapted to the introduction of new technologies that have applications to help better advance the study and preservation of the world’s heritage sites. Most recently, the use of “social media” – whereby usually small amounts of information on a variety of topics are shared and disseminated quickly through the electronically linked networks of persons using computers, mobile telephones, and other devices with Internet accessibility – provides a new arena for the evolution of the role of the media in assisting the archaeological community in calling the public’s attention to the need to understand, conserve, protect, and document the cultural heritage of the people of all nations. Preserving Heritage: The Role of the Media P Definition Christopher R. Eck Air National Guard, Camp Springs, MD, USA Introduction Ever since the modern science of archaeology began to develop from its earlier antiquarianism, there has been a role for the media – from book publishing to newspaper journalism’s coverage of discoveries to the depiction of archaeology in various visual arts – in shaping both the profession’s and the public’s awareness and desire to preserve the world’s archaeological and cultural heritage. Then, beginning in the late nineteenth century, electric media began to more rapidly and widely disseminate information for and about The role of the media in preserving cultural heritage can be defined as the use of the full range of journalistic, artistic, print, electronic, and broadcast mass communications to inform the professional archaeological community and the general public on the many methods, activities, and plans for encouraging the understanding, protection, conservation, and documentation of the world’s archaeological, historical, artistic, and cultural patrimony for the present and future generations. Historical Background The first mass communication medium to be used to promote the preservation and understanding of P 6132 archaeological and cultural heritage was book publishing. For instance, as early as 1482, the work Romae instauratae (“Rome Restored”), written by the Italian humanist, historian, and “father of archaeology,” Flavio Biondo (1388–1463), was the first book on archaeology to be published on the recently invented printing press with movable type. This and other works of Biondo’s were printed posthumously by his sons less than 20 years after the German inventor Johannes Gutenberg’s printing press was first brought into Italy around 1464 and only about 30 years after Gutenberg first prepared his famed eponymous bible using this device. In the Renaissance, encouraged by the more widespread dissemination of information – particularly a better knowledge of classical antiquity based in large part by the revolution in mass book printing and book selling – scholars such as the English antiquarian and historian William Camden (1551–1623) undertook writing about the ancient histories of their own nations, especially those places that were once linked to the Roman Empire. In his work, Britannia – first published in 1588 in Latin and then in subsequent English editions – Camden recognized the association between archaeological finds (particularly ancient coins) and an area’s history. In writing on the history of Kent, for example, he was observant in noting the existence of crop marks in fields upon the former locations of buildings and the coins that turned up in plowing: When the Romans govern’d here, the City was exceedingly Famous; from thence they commonly set sail from Britain to the Continent: But now Age has eras’d the very Tracts of it, and to teach us, that Cities die as well as Men, it is at this Day a Common Field, wherein, when the Corn is grown up, one may observe the Draughts of Streets crossing one another, for where they gone, the Corn is thinner. Nothing of the City now remains, but some ruinous Walls of rough Flints, and long British Bricks, the Cement of which is as hard as Stone. But the Plot of the City, now plough’d, has often cast up the Marks of its Antiquity, Gold and Silver Coins of the Romans. . . (Camden 1701). Notably, despite recognizing the significance of these sites and their relationship to the past, Camden does not advocate for their preservation in his writing. Preserving Heritage: The Role of the Media With a palpable interest being encouraged through literature in understanding the ancient past, more people began visiting the sites described in the various published histories – the early modern version of what we call today “cultural tourism.” Artists such as the Venetian Giovanni Battista Piranesi (1720–1778), who had himself been first trained as an architect, began producing for sale to these tourists a series of printed etchings that showed the ancient ruins of Rome. These artistic “views,” as they were called, depicted the city’s archaeological landmarks and helped to popularize the knowledge of archaeology to both locals and visitors alike and to further spur a revival in the use of the classical orders in Western architecture based upon these images and the increased appreciation of these ruins. Toward the end of the eighteenth century, the first scientific excavation of an archaeological site was undertaken by the American politician, scientist, and Enlightenment polymath Thomas Jefferson. Described in his now renowned book, Notes on the State of Virginia, which was first published in French in 1785 and then in English in 1787, Jefferson fairly systematically undertook a stratigraphic excavation of a Native American burial mound (or barrow) in 1783, correctly hypothesizing that the origins of the mounds were aboriginal in origin and of great age. Importantly, Jefferson also set the standard for publishing his findings relatively quickly (Jefferson 1787). A few years after Jefferson’s book was published, the American naturalist and scientist William Bartram (1739–1823) – a close friend of Jefferson – published his own keen observations of ancient Native American archaeological sites based upon his travels throughout the American Southeast in the mid-1770s. Bartram’s publication of his famous book, Travels through North and South Carolina, Georgia, East and West Florida, in Philadelphia in 1791 led to a further increased awareness of the antiquity of aboriginal culture in North America from comments laced throughout his famous work, such as his observation that “amongst the shells of the conical mounds, fragments of earthen vessels, and of other utensils, the manufacture of the ancients . . .” (Bartram 1791). Preserving Heritage: The Role of the Media These books, along with writings published by a number of other eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century scholars in Europe, such as the Germans Johann Winckelmann (1717–1768) and Alexander von Humboldt (1769–1859), helped to construct an intellectual foundation for a more widespread appreciation for the artistry, diversity, and antiquity of human cultures in the Old and New Worlds. Then, combining the media of book publishing and fine art printing, a multitude of richly illustrated multivolume books – such as von Humboldt’s Voyage aux regions equinoxiales du Nouveau Continent (Paris 1807), the French Commission des Sciences et des Arts’ Description de l’Egypte (Paris 1809), and, later, the acclaimed Incidents of Travel in Central America, Chiapas and Yucatan (New York 1841) by the American diplomat, explorer, and writer John Lloyd Stephens (1805–1852) as illustrated by English artist and architect Frederick Catherwood (1799–1854) – began to regularly appear to the delight and astonishment of the reading public with visually informed descriptions of the archaeological wonders of the world’s past civilizations. The efforts of those studying archaeology and history in Europe and the Americas, however, did not prevent the widespread destruction of many of these sites within their own communities. There remained the need to develop and inculcate a widespread conservation ethic in societies as a whole, to develop an appreciation for what American preservationist and architectural historian James Marston Fitch (1909–2000) would later call – in our modern age of industrialized duplication and facsimilitude – the need to “preserve the prototype” (Fitch 2001). There was, of course, a bias inherent in much of what was being viewed by those doing the viewing and the studying toward those sites with physical remains that were permanent and monumental which we recognize today that went largely without comment at the time. For an ethic of heritage preservation to diffuse and become instilled in societies across the world, there was required a medium of communication that could carry its ideas and the idioms. 6133 P Also, at a time with high rates of illiteracy and poverty, even for those people who could read, the common media for transmitting ideas of heritage conservation – books and art – were expensive and intellectually detached from the lives of most people. Other avenues of instruction were needed. One development was the recognition of the growing public interest and comprehension of archaeology from book publishing and artistic printing, particularly among the growing mercantile classes with some measure of disposable income and education. Hence, the establishment in the eighteenth century of the modern museum provided a forum for the public to view and discuss the exhibits of objects of cultural and natural heritage in their most tangible form. For instance, William Bartram’s Philadelphian friend, the artist and naturalist Charles Willson Peale (1741–1827), established his Philadelphia Museum as North America’s first public museums in 1786. Though other museums – such as the Vatican Museums in Rome and the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford – had opened to limited numbers of the social elite (“the public”) in the fifteenth to seventeenth centuries, Peale’s museum was envisioned as a more truly democratic institution, open to people of all classes of society, as most museums are throughout the world today. Peale conceived of his museum’s spaces – such as the “Antique Room” along with other galleries that displayed artifacts and ethnographic objects from throughout the Americas, the Pacific, East Asia, and Europe that were tangibly and closely present to visitors – in a way that most people were previously unable to experience. A widely recognizable image is Peale’s 1822 self-portrait painting, The Artist in His Museum, in which he is depicted lifting the curtain to reveal to the viewer a space of row upon row of his wondrous array of fossils, mounts, objects, and artwork unlike almost anything seen anywhere else in the world up through that time except by a small number of the very rich. Peale also recognized the power of promoting his museum through the use of newspapers. P P 6134 Long one of the most influential of the communication media, newspapers were the ubiquitous lifeblood of information in the mercantile ports, city streets, and country shops of the Americas and Europe in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Peale’s desire was that his museum would serve to educate and entertain both rich and poor about the diversity of the world’s cultural and natural heritage (Hansen 2008), and newspapers made it affordable to promote this idea to a mass audience through their articles and advertisements. Print journalism became one of the more vital media in the early efforts for decrying the destruction of cultural heritage and in the advocacy for the preservation of sites. Notably, one of the first heritage landmarks to be saved from destruction was Pennsylvania’s Old State House, best known now as Independence Hall and the site of the signing of the Declaration of Independence in 1776 and other momentous events in America’s early national history. Transferred from state custody to that of the City of Philadelphia in 1812, the city had proposed demolishing the building and selling off the land for development, but a public outcry to such an action led by the community’s newspapers succeeded in ensuring the preservation the building in 1816 (Nash 2006). Notably, Peale’s museum was a tenant of the building’s second floor. Another significant development that aided in the development of media networks for the spread of information – regarding cultural heritage or any other subject through the mail and newspapers – was the creation of national postal services with uniform, affordable mail delivery rates and the coeval creation of reliable post roads throughout these countries. Thus, the formation of national postal service and post road systems, along with the technological development of steamboats and railroads in the early nineteenth century, created national transportation and communication networks that facilitated the ability to send current news, information, and publications to people throughout the nations of Europe and the Americas and elsewhere which coincided with the growing awareness of Preserving Heritage: The Role of the Media preserving heritage sites and the creation of national identities. For example, the national postal and transportation system created in the United States allowed Ann Pamela Cunningham (1816–1875), the founder of the Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association, to successfully manage a network of supporters across America for soliciting contributions for the purchase and preservation of George Washington’s former estate of Mount Vernon in Virginia from 1853 to1858 (Murtagh 2006). Her work is considered a watershed event in the preservation movement in North America. As other technological developments related to communications media occurred, these were also incorporated into the archaeological and heritage conservation tool kit. The advent of photography in 1826, and its subsequent improvement by the French photographic pioneer Louis-Jacques-Mande Daguerre (1787–1851) in 1839, permitted detailed imagery of actual archaeological sites to be composed and transmitted more quickly and accurately than drawings or paintings to persons anywhere. In producing these early images, it was not uncommon to photograph a scene that contained a site of archaeological interest which was incidental to the original purpose of the photograph. Many of these early pictures document in great detail the contemporary surroundings and conditions of individual landmarks and remain of great interest to archaeologists, architectural historians, and others interested in the details of a site. A historic image of a landmark can be juxtaposed with a modern photograph – such as a picture of the Roman Colosseum in the 1860s and an image of the same view in the present – to gain a detailed perspective and insight into the changes that have taken place over time (D’Orazio 2004). The use of photography as a medium of communication within archaeology coevolved with the discipline in the nineteenth century as archaeologists sought to use images to convey the sense of place of the sites they were studying and to document the artifacts that were recovered. During this period, the French army officer, travel writer, and photographer Maxime du Camp (1822–1894) Preserving Heritage: The Role of the Media was among the first photographers to incorporate images of archaeological sites – such as those in Egypt – into books, such as his E´gypte, Nubie, Palestine et Syrie (1852), which further whetted the popular interest in the past using the new medium. The Greek photographer Dimitrios Constantinou (fl. 1850s–1870s), better known in English as “Dimitris Constantine,” is recognized as the second professional photographer in Greece and whose work stands out for being conducted specifically for the Greek Archaeological Society in recording excavations and archaeological sites, as well as for its quality. The German architect and archaeologist Ernst Emil Herzfeld (1879–1948) was among the first professional archaeologists to systematically use photography as a tool of study and documentation. Herzfeld participated in and later led expeditions in Iraq, Iran, Syria, and Turkey from 1903 to 1934, and his photographs of early western Asian civilizations richly inform his writings and those of his German friend and colleague Friedrich Sarre (1865–1945), director of the Islamic Museum in Berlin (Bloom & Blair 2009). His extensive photographic collection of nearly 4,000 glass negatives from his work forms part of the “Ernst Herzfeld Papers, 1899–1962” of the Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery Archives of the Smithsonian Institution in Washington. One of the earliest and best known deliberate uses of photography to document and exploit the popular image of the “romance” of exotic archaeological excavations was by the American archaeologist and explorer Hiram Bingham (1875–1956). In his 1911 expedition to the “Lost City of the Incas,” Macchu Picchu, while high in the Peruvian Andes he wrote, “Would anyone believe what I had found? Fortunately, in this land where accuracy in reporting what one has seen is not a prevailing characteristic of travelers, I had a good camera and the sun was shining” (Bingham 1996). Following photography, the ability to quickly share information about a major discovery or even plan or maintain the mundane logistics of a long-distance expedition to an archaeological site was aided greatly by the independent 6135 P development of the first commercially practical application of the electrical telegraph in both Britain and the United States in 1837. Several decades later, British architect and archaeologist John Turtle Wood (1821–1890), for example, summarized how telegraphic communications could combine with the other technological innovations of the time to aid him in his excavations at Ephesus. Although appended with a personal critique of the waste of resources on less important subjects than archaeology – a refrain still common today in the field – he wrote: The explorers of half a century ago had neither steam to convey them to distant coasts, nor the practical knowledge of archaeology which we now possess to guide their researches, nor photographers to record their discoveries, nor an electric telegraph wherewith to maintain communication with a distant base of operations. We, with all of these appliances, and with boundless wealth at the command of individuals, if not of governments, grudge to these great enterprises the money which is daily wasted on trivial and ignoble objects (Wood 1877). Although telegraph communications would be supplemented by the end of the nineteenth century by the telephone and eventually replaced by it in the twentieth century, these two media exponentially increased the ability of archaeologists to communicate their work both within and without the profession. By the late nineteenth century, another communication medium had developed and was stirring the popular imagination regarding archaeology and heritage sites around the world: the novel. One of the most influential novelists was the English author Sir Henry Rider Haggard (1856–1925), creator of the Allan Quatermain character and considered the first to write in the “Lost World” genre of fiction. His first book, King Solomon’s Mines (London 1885), was inspired by both Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island (London 1883) and by the archaeological discoveries of the day. The character of the dashing explorer-archaeologist, itself inspired by a number of seemingly larger-than-life figures of the nineteenth century – such as the Italian adventurer in Egypt Giovanni Battista Belzoni (1778–1823) and the British explorer, P P 6136 archaeologist, and statesman Sir Austen Henry Layard (1817–1894) – would itself further inspire future generations of students of archaeology and even more fictional characters in both twentieth century literature, such as in the writings of English author Agatha Christie (1890–1976), herself married to an archaeologist, but especially in the new cinematic art of motion pictures. Movies have arguably been the medium that has had the most influence on the popular view of archaeology and cultural heritage. Among the first silent films to depict archaeologists – particularly those afflicted with tomb curses and avenging mummies – were The Vengeance of Egypt (French, 1912), When Soul Meets Soul (American, 1912), and The Wraith of the Tomb (British, 1915), among others. Subsequent talking films have continued using archaeology as a plot device for cinematic adventure up to the present, from The Mummy (1932) to the Indiana Jones character films, beginning with Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) to National Treasure (2004) and others. Apparently, after more than a century’s worth of books, news articles, artwork, museum exhibitions, and novels, a near universal understanding of the intersection between archaeology and adventure has been created in the popular imagination. This is not to say that archaeologists themselves have not used the medium of film for more academic purposes. Archaeologists began capturing their field excavations on documentary films as early as the 1920s, but the content of these first works was haphazard and the quality often uneven. In 1937, the Tennessee Valley Authority in the United States produced a film, Shell Mounds in the Tennessee Valley, which was among the first to have a soundtrack and set a high standard for future documentary films for the public. Since that time, with the cost of filming over the years steadily declining and, most recently, the appearance of relatively simple and inexpensive digital handheld cameras, the ability to film excavations and document sites is quite literally within the grasp of virtually any project team to bring its work to the public’s attention. Preserving Heritage: The Role of the Media Documentary filming in some contexts, however, remains a significant challenge, particularly in the realm of submerged archaeological sites. Among the earliest underwater archaeology films was Epaves (“Shipwrecks,” 1943) by the French explorer, marine conservationist and filmmaker Jacques-Yves Cousteau (1910–1997), many of whose later films were made for broadcast for television. In the case of life imitating art, both Cousteau and the American marine geologist and archaeological oceanographer Robert Duane Ballard (b. 1942) are said to have been inspired by the novel 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (Paris 1870) by French author Jules Verne (1828–1905). In 1985, in his own version of Verne’s fictional submarine, Nautilus, Ballard discovered the site of the famed wreck of the HMS Titanic. The disclosure of the wreck’s location – from which Ballard refused to remove anything from because of his belief that it should be protected as a maritime gravesite – led to it being salvaged by a for-profit the year after Ballard broadcast footage of the discovery to the awe of millions of television viewers in 1986 (Ballard 2010). Then, coming full circle, a fictional maritime archaeological discovery of the wreck was later depicted in the immensely successful film Titanic (1997). In the second half of the twentieth century, imagery and sounds related to archaeological endeavors have been regularly broadcast by radio and television media. Among the most important and prolific promoters of archaeology through the broadcast media (as well as in print) was the Scottish military officer and archaeologist Sir Mortimer Wheeler (1890–1976) and the Welsh archaeologist Glyn Daniel (1914–1986), both of whom often worked closely together on BBC radio and television programs in the 1950s. In fact, Wheeler became “Television Personality of the Year” in 1954 on the BBC (Noel Hume 2010). In recent years, archaeology-themed documentaries have become a staple of television. They have, however, been criticized for presenting content that is not very relevant to the audience to which they are being shown. Preserving Heritage: The Role of the Media An Australian study showed that most of the content for local audiences was produced by foreign production companies (such as the BBC) about sites in other countries and were not reflective of the diversity of their audiences (Nichols 2006). These documentaries, however, are not to be confused with the reality television genre that has arisen in recent years. Shows such as Extreme Archaeology and Digging for the Truth – which focus more on attractive participants (many not even trained in archaeology) in contrived, sensationalized “searches” for information – are becoming ever more commonplace as pay-television broadcasting seeks more “content” to fill its “air time” (Nicholas 2005). Nonetheless, the prints, paintings, photographs, films, and television imagery of archaeology and heritage sites of the last two hundred years have thoroughly prepared the groundwork for the completely visually oriented society that exists today. Contemporary popular culture is infused with and accepting of imagery of past cultures as a result of the role of mass media. Combined with this, the technological and information revolution brought about since the 1960s in the use of computers and the role of the Internet over the last 20 years has brought information about archaeology and cultural heritage – in all forms, such as in advertising and computer games – to homes in every part of both the developed and developing world. The mass media has made the imagery of archaeology, through its replication and application in all forms, completely ubiquitous. The use of computers and the Internet has greatly expanded the reach of all media and the ability of information on archaeological site preservation to reach a variety of audiences. Researchers and the public can readily access books, articles, and studies online from the comfort of their own homes. Publications and archival documents and photographs once available from a small number of research collections and usually only used or visited by a small number of researchers are now regularly being reproduced in a digital format and made available to anyone. Aerial photography and satellite imagery, both long part of the archaeological toolkit for teasing 6137 P out the possible locations of sites, are now openly viewed on websites offering free map services to the public. In Ireland, as elsewhere, the use of computer-aided Internet tools such as Google Earth has made possible the finding of archaeological sites by both professional archaeologists and the public alike (Darby 2007). Additionally, among the field of archaeology’s oldest and most effective forms of media are magazines and scholarly journals. Journals and magazines, like their cousin the newspaper, have been around quite a long time with some of the earliest that were devoted exclusively to archaeology and heritage arising as publications of local history and antiquarian societies formed in the mid-eighteenth through nineteenth centuries, such as the Society of Antiquaries’ Archaeologia (1770), the British Archaeological Association’s The Archaeological Journal (1845), and the Norfolk and Norwich Archaeological Society’s Norfolk Archaeology (1847) in Britain. The enormous popularity of both the scientific journal and popular magazine format – often accompanied by illustrations, photographs, maps, and figures – is attested by the hundreds of publications produced around the world in most major languages that can inform both professional and nonprofessional alike of current developments in the field, work that is the culmination of years of research and other news of note, including training and educational conferences. A clear consequence of the mass media’s promotion of archaeology is the greater sense of shared history and interest in cultures that now exists across the globe. The discovery of a significant site in a remote part of eastern Asia or the Australian outback is nearly as likely to make the headlines in Rome or New York as one found in more familiar places, such as Europe, Mexico, or the Near East. The increased attention provided to the preservation of heritage lends widespread appreciation and support for the use of national parks and local landmarks and museums. There is recognition among archaeologists and other preservationists of the professional need and responsibility to better engage the public to achieve the support needed for P P 6138 public funding of research and site protection, to instill a cultural desire to preserve cultural heritage, and to prevent depredations, looting, and vandalism to archaeological sites and other monuments. A 1999 survey in Canada shows that the public is very interested in archaeology and is supportive of preserving heritage sites but has a limited understanding of archaeological interpretation and heritage site protection laws (Pokotylo & Guppy 1999). Key Issues/Current Debates Over the past century and still in the present, there exists a debate within archaeology over the depiction of both archaeologists and the field of archaeology in the media. This is not a new debate: it is one that pits the common conception of the field as filled with romance and adventure against that of archaeologist as out-of-touch scientists who are absentmindedly lost in the past. It is a product of two centuries of conflicting media exposure, both fictional and not. Addressing this is largely a matter of public relations and public archaeology. Unfortunately, there has been very little written in the professional journals about conducting “good PR” that helps to dispel misconceptions of the field and instill a better understanding of the profession in preserving shared cultural heritage with rare exception. McManamon (1991) challenged archaeologists more than 20 years ago to do a better job of engaging and educating the public about the goals and roles of archaeology in preserving heritage. The ease of access to heritage sites and the information about them also has a more troubling aspect. Archaeological site looting, or pot-hunting as it has long been called, has long been a problem for the field. But the same modern tools, equipment, and access to information that have made work for professional archaeologists better have also made it easier for looters to damage sites as well, usually for profit. The misunderstanding fostered by “reality” Preserving Heritage: The Role of the Media television shows has not helped distinguish professional archaeologists from those that are little more than looters. So, amid protests by professionals, it was not unexpected that recent “reality” television programming in the United States, such as the National Geographic Channel’s Diggers or Spike TV’s American Digger, disregards the contextual, informational, and conservation goals of archaeology and, instead, focuses narrowly on the potential monetary reward of site destruction and the “adventure” of the find (Kloor 2012). The field of archaeology – keeping in mind its ethical responsibilities to its work and the conservation of sites – has a great opportunity here to do better and offer better programming that is engaging, audience focused, and accurate in its scope. All of this serves to illustrate that although public-focused archaeology that relies on the media to assist in presenting its message has expanded greatly in much of the developed world, much more still needs to be done and it is a continual process of effort. One example of the successful establishment of a public program is in Florida, where the state legislature established the Florida Public Archaeology Network (FPAN) in 2004 with a headquarters and eight regional offices staffed by professionals who develop local public programming and assist local governments. Just as the public has found great benefit in having better digital access to formerly difficult to obtain information, there is still a great need for the profession to make use of the millions of archive records, photographs, and artifacts from prior excavations of the past 200 years. The diminishing numbers of certain types of cultural sites due to rapid urbanization in many parts of the world demand that archaeologists use the media available to conserve finite cultural and financial resources. One of the benefits of the digitization projects is the great availability of digital resources, both in finding specific collections and in accessing difficult-to-find information. As the use of photography in archaeological excavation and for the documentation of sites was well established by Preserving Heritage: The Role of the Media the first half of the twentieth century, there are vastly underutilized photographic archives in universities and museum holdings around the world. Yet, there remains a great need to catalog and make accessible these valuable resources, particularly in countries and places where resources are scarce. For example, the Smithsonian has recently undertaken efforts to digitize the thousands of images created by Herzfeld in his work in the Near East, but thousands upon thousands of photographs from other sites – such as those from nearly a decade of work at Dura-Europos in Syria from 1928 to 1937 – remain largely unpublished and inaccessible (Baird 2011). International Perspectives Given the recent conflicts in Syria and the overthrow of governments in North Africa, coupled with the current political instability in the Near East where archaeological tremendous study has taken place for generations, the preserved collections that exist outside these areas take on an added and special importance to both scholars and the public for understanding human history and culture. Training programs for archaeological and heritage professionals have been sponsored by institutions in North America and Europe for some time in these areas, to better establish a cadre of local professionals that are part of the local community. Foreign government agencies, such as the US Agency for International Development (USAID), recognize that providing local communities with stable sources of income and education helps deter looting, promotes understanding of indigenous cultures among both locals and visitors, and provides a source of income for cultural tourism (Amin & Jones 2008). However, recent events in the civil unrest for the governments of Libya, Egypt, and Syria have put such programs on hold, have led to reports of the damage to or looting of sites, and undermine or eliminate progress in heritage conservation that has taken years to establish. 6139 P Another important development is the recognition throughout the profession worldwide that there is a need to better and more formally teach archaeological practitioners how to communicate to divergent public audiences through the audio-visual media. At the University College London’s Institute for Archaeology, for example, there has recently been established the Centre for Audio-Visual Study and Practice in Archaeology (CASPAR) which seeks to “promote research into the relationship between audio-visual media and archaeology” and to “enable inventive and creative use of audio-visual media by archaeologists” among it several aims. To spread such information, many of the world’s national and international nongovernmental heritage preservation organizations, such as the International Council on Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS), rely heavily on the use of electronic media to quickly and cost-effectively reach local and international audiences. The efficiency of the new Internet and social media in reaching large numbers of archaeological and other heritage professionals, interested members of the public, and elected decision makers has made their incorporation into most NGOs communications strategies a prerequisite. For instance, when a rebel military force overran the ancient scholarly city of Timbuktu in Mali in the spring of 2012, the international archaeological community and relief NGOs quickly became aware of the threats to the city’s ancient mud-brick shrines, libraries, and other structures within days as computer and mobile telecommunication devices were able to send messages, photographs, and video images out of the city despite its occupation. Similarly, a number of governmental organizations, such as the US military’s Joint Prisoner of War/Missing in Action Accounting Command (JPAC) which is based in Hawaii, have also taken to the use of the new media formats to disseminate information about their missions. Composed of interdisciplinary teams of archaeologists, historians, forensic anthropologists, and active-duty military, JPAC sends its members around the world to recover the remains of military service P P 6140 members from sites where they died overseas in battle, but who were never brought back for burial in the United States. JPAC works closely with foreign governments in its fieldwork in other countries and communicates the results of its activities to the public through an effectual media relations program of emails, blog posts, web pages, video links, and other electronic and social media formats that builds support for its work. As the world becomes increasingly “smaller” through the use of communications media, the opportunities to better understand the archaeology of cultures, such as China, which have heretofore been largely inward looking, become markedly improved. There is a great need in the developed world to better understand the developing world, as the issues of one nation rarely stay confined within its actual – or even “digital” – borders any longer. Future Directions Understanding the role that communications media holds in modern society is crucial and unavoidable in modern archaeology and heritage site preservation. Archaeologists and preservationists at all levels must develop a keen awareness of all media in developing plans for the study and conservation of sites and expect to be engaged with the public’s appreciation for the past and heritage conservation. Professional archaeologists – who have readily adopted new technologies for communicating their work throughout the history of archaeology – have been much slower to recognize the necessity of public engagement with the field. The rapidity and ubiquity of communications media require the profession to see the great opportunity that now exists to dispel misconceptions about the field, to readily involve the interested public about its work, to lobby for changes in legislation for the better protection and conservation of sites and artifacts from illegal looting or trade, and to inspire people of all backgrounds to use the communications media at their disposal to take an active role in preserving the world’s shared cultural heritage. Preserving Heritage: The Role of the Media Cross-References ▶ Advertising and the Appropriation of Culture ▶ Cultural Heritage in the Digital Age ▶ Film, Archaeology in ▶ Internet, Archaeology of the ▶ Publication in Field Archaeology ▶ Television and Archaeology: Views from the UK and Beyond References AMIN, N. & M. JONES. 2008. Site management and training at Medinet Habu. Conservation 23: 16-17. BAIRD, J.A. 2011. Photographing Dura-Europos, 19281937: an archaeology of the archive. American Journal of Archaeology 115: 427-46. BALLARD, R. 2010. Robert Ballard’s Titanic: exploring the greatest of all lost ships. Aurora: Black Walnut/Madison Press. BARTRAM, W. 1791. Travels through North and South Carolina, Georgia, East and West Florida, the Cherokee country, the extensive territories of the Muscogulges or Creek confederacy, and the country of the Choctaws. Philadelphia: James and Johnson. BINGHAM, H. 1996. Adventure at Macchu Picchu, in B.M. Fagan (ed.) Eyewitness to discovery: first-person accounts of more than fifty of the world’s greatest archaeological discoveries. Oxford: Oxford University Press. BLOOM, J.M. & S.S. BLAIR. (ed.) 2009. Herzfeld, Ernst (Emil). The grove encyclopedia of Islamic art and architecture. 3 vols. Oxford: Oxford University Press. CAMDEN, W. 1701. Camden’s Britannia abridged; with improvements, and continuations, to this present, Volume 1. London: Joseph Wild. DARBY, C.J. 2007. Googling the landscape: discovering a prehistoric landscape in west Wicklow. Archaeology Ireland 21: 20-3. D’ORAZIO, F. 2004. Rome then & now. San Diego: Thunder Bay Press. FITCH, J.F. 2001. Historic preservation: curatorial management of the built world. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia. HANSEN, L. 2008. Philadelphia Museum shaped early American culture. Weekend edition Sunday, National public radio, 13 July 2008, 3 pp. Available http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php? at: storyId¼92388477. JEFFERSON, T. 1787. Notes on the State of Virginia. London: John Stockdale. KLOOR, K. 2012. Archaeologists protest ‘glamorization’ of looting on TV. ScienceInsider March 1. Available at: http://news.sciencemag.org/scienceinsider/2012/ 03/archaeologists-protest-glamorizan.html. Preucel, Robert W. MCMANAMON, F.P. 1991. The many publics for archaeology. American Antiquity 56: 121-30. MURTAGH, W.J. 2006. Keeping time: the history and theory of preservation in America. Hoboken: John Wiley & Sons, Inc. NASH, G.B. 2006. First city: Philadelphia and the forging of historical memory. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. NICHOLAS, G.P. 2005. Editor’s notes: on “reality archaeology”. Canadian Journal of Archaeology/Journal Canadien d’Archaeologie 29: iii-vi. NICHOLS, S. 2006. Out of the box: popular notions of archaeology in documentary programmes in Australian television. Australian Archaeology 63: 35-46. NOEL HUME, I. 2010. A passion for the past: the odyssey of a Transatlantic archaeologist. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press. POKOTYLO, D. & N. GUPPY. 1999. Public opinion and archaeological heritage: views from outside the profession. American Antiquity 64: 400-16. WOOD, J.T. 1877. Wood’s discoveries at Ephesus. Littell’s Living Age (5th Ser.) XVII: 626-38. Further Reading ALANEN, A.R. & R.Z. MELNICK. (ed.) 2000. Preserving cultural landscapes in America. Foreword by D. Hayden. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press. ASCHER, R. 1960. Archaeology and the public image. American Antiquity 25: 402-3. BEALE, T.W. & P.F. HEALY. 1975. Archaeological films: the past as present. American Anthropologist (New Series) 77: 889-97. BOHRER, F.N. 2011. Photography and archaeology (Exposures series). London: Reaktion Books. CLACK, T. & M. BRITTAIN. (ed.) 2007. Archaeology and the media. Walnut Creek: Left Coast Press. DECICCO, G. 1988. A public relations primer. American Antiquity 53: 840-56. DE GROOT, J. 2009. Consuming history: historians and heritage in contemporary popular culture. Oxford: Routledge. HOLTORF, C. & E.H. CLINE. 2008. TV archaeology is valuable storytelling (with response). Near Eastern Archaeology 71: 176-9. MCGEOUGH, K. 2006. Heroes, mummies, and treasure: Near Eastern archaeology in the movies. Near Eastern Archaeology 69: 174-85. SCHABLITSKY, J.M. (ed.) 2007. Box office archaeology: refining Hollywood’s portrayals of the past. Walnut Creek: Left Coast Press. STRONGHEART, N.T. 1954. History in Hollywood. The Wisconsin Magazine of History 38: 10-16, 41-6. TRIGGER, B. 1990. A history of archaeological thought. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. VAN DYKE, R.M. 2006. Seeing the past: visual media in archaeology. American Anthropologist (New Series) 108: 370-5. 6141 P VERMEULE, C. 1976. Classical archaeology and French painting in the seventeenth century. Boston Museum Bulletin 74: 94-109. Preucel, Robert W. Alexander A. Bauer Department of Anthropology, Queens College, CUNY, Flushing, NY, USA Basic Biographical Information Robert W. Preucel (Fig. 1) is an anthropological archaeologist who is a leading voice in many areas of archaeological theory and practice, from Native North American archaeology to problems of philosophy and epistemology, to the engagement with Native communities in archaeological practice and academia more generally. He received his B.A. in anthropology in 1978 from the University of Pennsylvania. Having interests in both North American and Near Eastern archaeology, Preucel subsequently took a Master’s degree (1979) at the University of Chicago where he studied at the Oriental Institute. While at Chicago, he became interested in archaeological method and theory, in particular processual archaeology, and so from there embarked on a Ph.D. (1988) in archaeology at UCLA, where he studied processualist methods and Puebloan archaeology under the guidance of James N. Hill. After graduating from UCLA, Preucel was awarded a postdoctoral fellowship at the Center for Archaeological Investigations at Southern Illinois University, Carbondale (1988–89), where he organized a conference on the Processual-Postprocessual debate (Preucel 1991a). In 1989, he joined the faculty of Harvard University as an Assistant Professor of Anthropology and Assistant Curator of North America at the Peabody Museum. He was later promoted as Associate Professor and Associate Curator (1993–1995). In 1995, he returned to the University of Pennsylvania, this time as Associate P P 6142 Preucel, Robert W., Fig. 1 Robert Preucel Professor of Anthropology and Associate Curator of the American Section of the University Museum. He was promoted to Professorship in 2007 and two years later made the Sally and Alvin V. Shoemaker Professor of Anthropology and the Gregory Annenberg Weingarten Curatorin-Charge of the American Section of the University Museum. He served as the Chair of the Department (2009–2012) and the Director of the Center for Native American Studies (2007–2013). In 2013, he was appointed as the Director of the Haffenreffer Museum of Anthropology and Professor of Anthropology at Brown University. Major Accomplishments Robert Preucel has made and continues to make significant contributions to several different arenas of scholarship and practice, most notably archaeological theory, Puebloan archaeology, and engagement with Native American communities. His interest in archaeological theory and epistemology drew him first to study Processual approaches and then consider its critiques over Preucel, Robert W. the course of his doctoral studies. While a graduate student, he coauthored an important essay on those debates with Tim Earle entitled “Processual Archaeology and the Radical Critique” (Earle & Preucel 1987). Subsequently, the conference he organized as a postdoctoral scholar at Carbondale resulted in one of the most important volumes on this debate (Preucel 1991a), with his essay “The Philosophy of Archaeology” (Preucel 1991b) remaining a key distillation of the core components of archaeological reasoning. In 1996, he collaborated with Ian Hodder to write the first incarnation of Contemporary Archaeology in Theory (Preucel & Hodder 1996), a reader on archaeological method and theory that was as valuable for the short introductory essays that Preucel and Hodder wrote as for the readings it contained. During his time at Harvard, Preucel had the opportunity to expand his interest in philosophy through interaction with colleagues such as Terry Deacon, David Rudner, and Rosemary Joyce, and at the Peirce Sesquicentennial International Congress at Harvard University in 1989, he first encountered the semiotic writings of American philosopher Charles Sanders Peirce, whose work focused on the production of meaning and the logic of inferences about the world. Preucel felt that Peirce’s model, notably being nonfoundational and an alternative to both positivist and non-positivist approaches, might be especially productive for archaeological inquiry and its problem of verifiability. He laid out and tested this framework in a series of essays (Preucel & Bauer 2001; Capone & Preucel 2002; Ferguson & Preucel 2005), culminating in his 2006 book Archaeological Semiotics (Preucel 2006). Preucel continues to explore Peirce’s ideas and in particular the utility of pragmatism generally as a way to produce a more inclusive and ethically engaged archaeology (Preucel & Mrozowski 2010), particularly with respect to bridging Native and indigenous ways of knowing the world with Western scientific approaches. Preucel has had a long-standing research engagement with the Puebloan communities of the southwest United States. Since 1995, he has collaborated with Cochiti Pueblo in New Preucel, Robert W. Mexico on the Kotyiti Research Project, a multidimensional study of an ancestral Cochiti village from the time of the Pueblo Revolt, incorporating archaeological survey, mapping, oral history study and interviews with elders from Cochiti, and museum and historical analysis. This project seeks to address questions about the links between past and present identities as well as what constitutes responsible and ethical collaboration. Engagement with the Cochiti community is a central pillar of this project and it includes the active participation of Cochiti elders as well as youth through an internship program. Both in the Kotyiti Research Project and in his collaborations with T.J. Ferguson and his former students, Preucel has sought to understand the ways in which Puebloan identity and ideology was expressed materially during the period of the Pueblo Revolt and since (Preucel 2002, 2006; Liebmann & Preucel 2007). Preucel’s involvement with Native Americans and concerns about ethical academic practice have not been limited to his own research agendas, but have guided much of his work at the University of Pennsylvania Museum and in the University as a whole. At the University Museum, he has facilitated collaborative relationships with many Native American communities, and has provided important examples of how NAGPRA works at its best. He has also been active in increasing Native American participation and enrollment at Penn through serving on university-wide committees on diversity outreach, minority recruitment, and pushing to establish the Center for Native American Studies. Through this work, and in complement to his academic research goals, Preucel has sought to increase the visibility of Native Americans in academia and raise the profile of topical concerns of Native peoples more generally. 6143 P ▶ Post-Processual Archaeology ▶ Pragmatism in Archaeological Theory ▶ Processualism in Archaeological Theory ▶ Semiotics in Archaeological Theory ▶ Theoretical Archaeology Group (TAG) References EARLE, T. & R.W. PREUCEL. 1987. Processual archaeology and the radical critique. Current Anthropology 28: 501-38. CAPONE, P. & R. W. PREUCEL. 2002. Ceramic semiotics: women, pottery, and social meanings at Kotyiti Pueblo, in R. W. Preucel (ed.) Archaeologies of the Pueblo Revolt: identity, meaning and renewal in the Pueblo world: 99–113. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Ferguson, T.J. & R. W. Preucel. 2005. Signs of the ancestors: an archaeology of the Mesa villages of the Pueblo Revolt, in J. Rykwert & T. Atkin (ed.) Structure and meaning in human settlement: 185–207. Philadelphia: University Museum. LIEBMANN, M. & R. W. PREUCEL. 2007. The archaeology of the Pueblo Revolt and the formation of the modern Pueblo world. Kiva 73: 197-219. PREUCEL, R. W. (ed.) 1991a. Processual and postprocessual archaeologies: multiple ways of knowing the past (Southern Illinois University at Carbondale Occasional Paper 10). Carbondale (IL): Center for Archaeological Investigations. - 1991b. The philosophy of archaeology, in R. W. Preucel (ed.) Processual and postprocessual archaeologies: multiple ways of knowing the past (Southern Illinois University at Carbondale Occasional Paper 10): 17-29. Carbondale (IL): Center for Archaeological Investigations. - (ed.) 2002. Archaeologies of the Pueblo Revolt: identity, meaning and renewal in the Pueblo world. Albuquerque (NM): University of New Mexico Press. - 2006. Archaeological semiotics. Oxford: Blackwell. PREUCEL, R.W. & A.A. BAUER. 2001. Archaeological pragmatics. Norwegian Archaeological Review 34: 85-96. PREUCEL, R. W. & I. HODDER. (ed.) 1996. Contemporary archaeology in theory. Oxford: Blackwell. PREUCEL, R. W. & S.A. MROZOWSKI. (ed.) 2010. Contemporary archaeology in theory: the new pragmatism, 2nd edn. New York (NY): Wiley-Blackwell. Cross-References Further Reading ▶ Earle, Timothy ▶ Hodder, Ian (Theory) ▶ Indigenous Peoples, Working with and for ▶ Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA), USA LEONE, M.P. & R.W. PREUCEL. 1992. Archaeology in a democratic society: a critical theory approach, in L. Wandsnider (ed.) Quests and quandaries: visions of archaeology’s future (Southern Illinois University, Occasional Paper 20):115-35. Carbondale (IL): Center for Archaeological Investigations. P P 6144 LIEBMANN, M., T.J. FERGUSON & R.W. PREUCEL. 2005. Pueblo settlement, architecture, and social change in the Pueblo Revolt era, A.D. 1680-1696. Journal of Field Archaeology 30: 1-16. MESKELL, L. & R. PREUCEL. 2006. A companion to social archaeology. Oxford: Blackwell. PREUCEL, R.W. 2012. Indigenous archaeology and the science question. Archaeological Review from Cambridge 27: 121-41. PREUCEL, R.W. & L.F. WILLIAMS. 2005. The centennial Potlach. Expedition 47(2): 9-19. PREUCEL, R.W., L.F. WILLIAMS, S.O. ESPENLAUB & J. MONGE. 2003. Out of heaviness, enlightenment: NAGPRA and the University of Pennsylvania Museum. Expedition 45(3): 21-7. Processualism in Archaeological Theory cultural, and political processes characterizing past human societies. This view derives from the development of anthropology within the United States during the first few decades of the twentieth century as a holistic study of humankind from origins to the present day. Anthropology was conceived as a social science wherein archaeologists, ethnographers, linguists, and physical anthropologists carried out worldwide comparative cross-cultural research on humankind, past and present, wherever relevant evidence could be found. Historical Background Processualism in Archaeological Theory Steven A. LeBlanc1 and Patty Jo Watson2 1 Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University, Cambridge, MA, USA 2 Department of Anthropology, Washington University, St. Louis, MO, USA Introduction For approximately 20 years during the 1960s to the 1980s, lively discussion about theoretical and methodological issues characterized Euroamerican archaeology. Much of the debate centered upon an approach called New Archaeology or processual archaeology that originated in the United States. In this entry we provide our perspectives upon the mid-twentieth-century controversies about the nature and goals of archaeology and make reference to some of the more prominent subsequent developments. Definition We use the phrases “New Archaeology” or “processual archaeology” to mean a problemoriented, generalizing rather than a particularizing approach toward archaeological data, with the goal of advancing knowledge about social, Prior to the rise of processual archaeology, however, Americanist archaeologists of the early to mid-twentieth century focused quite narrowly upon chronology and comparative typology. There was such a heavy emphasis upon chronologically diagnostic artifacts and their travels through time and space that the phrase “time-space systematics” was and still is often used to describe 1930s–1950s Americanist archaeology. Although efforts were made during this period by a few archaeologists to broaden the scope of archaeology in the USA, these had no discernible effect. Neither did a closely reasoned, strongly argued, book-length critique that appeared shortly after World War II (Taylor 1948; see Maca et al. 2010). During the early 1960s, however, Lewis Binford began to attract considerable attention to his views concerning anthropological archaeology. Binford’s program for change (Binford 1962, 1964, 1965) was labeled “processual archaeology” by many of its advocates (e.g., Flannery 1973) and instigated considerable methodological and theoretical ferment. In his initial manifesto, Binford (1962) begins by quoting the well-known statement of Gordon Willey and Phillip Phillips that “American archaeology is anthropology or it is nothing.” He then proceeds to assess the performance of Americanist archaeology with respect to supporting the aims of anthropology as the integrated discipline it was supposed to be. He defines those aims as explicating and explaining Processualism in Archaeological Theory “the total range of physical and cultural similarities and differences characteristic of the entire spatial-temporal span of man’s existence,” notes that while major contributions have been made by archaeologists to explication of past cultural systems, they have done virtually nothing about explanation of those past cultures as functioning systems. Binford’s definition of explanation is: . . .simply the demonstration of a constant articulation of variables within a system and the measurement of the concomitant variability among the variables within the system. Processual change in one variable can then be shown to relate in a predictable and quantifiable way to changes in other variables, the latter changing in turn relative to changes in the structure of the system as a whole. This approach to explanation presupposes concern with process, or the operation and structural modification of systems (Binford 1962: 217, italics in original text). He goes on to declare with Leslie White that culture is “the extrasomatic means of adaptation for the human organism” to the total physical and social environment (Binford 1962: 218) and that the “formal structure of artifact assemblages together with the between element contextual relations should and do present a systematic and understandable picture of the total extinct cultural system” (Binford 1962: 219, italics in original text). Binford notes that all cultural systems are made up of three subclasses of material culture. These are the technomic, which have “their primary functional context in coping directly with the physical environment”; the socio-technic, which are “the material elements having their primary functional context in the social subsystems of the total cultural system”; and the ideo-technic, which have “their primary functional context in the ideological component of the social system” (Binford 1962: 219). Binford’s subsequent research and publications, however, as distinct from this initial programmatic essay, centered so heavily upon the technomic aspects of past cultures that one of his peers aptly characterized Binfordian processual archaeology as “econothink” (Hall 1977). There were also significant differences in emphasis among processualists about the ultimate goals of their endeavor (Flannery 1973; 6145 P Watson et al. 1984), but there was general agreement upon the importance of explicitly problemoriented, hypothesis-testing research designed to secure knowledge of the human past that would advance the goals of archaeology conceived as social science. Thus, the original debate centered upon archaeology as a very narrow kind of history vs. archaeology as (social) science, but more was at issue than just the difference between particularistic and generalizing goals. It was thought that prehistorians concentrating upon time-space systematics attempted to document the archaeological facts accurately but that they explained those facts by appeals to common knowledge. That is, they relied upon explanations that were untested, and therefore not scientific. A classic example is the issue of migration. Obviously, there have been many migrations in the past, a proposition no reasonable person would deny. To invoke migration as an explanation for cultural change, however, is problematic. What is the evidence that there actually was a migration? That is, how does an archaeologist establish that a migration happened at the time and place in question? Even if there is convincing evidence for such a migration, what further evidence indicates that this migration caused the change under investigation rather than some alternative or additional causal event or process? Why was there a migration? Binford and other advocates of the processual approach insisted that archaeologists could and should do much more than simply documenting cultural change in the archaeological record, saying a migration caused it, and leaving it at that. Peter Bellwood (2009) provides a good recent example of the alternative approach advocated by Binford as he attempts to understand why farmers migrated successfully under some circumstances but not others. Another objection to archaeology practiced as narrowly focused cultural history was that the cultural historians were content simply to describe past objects and events with little or no attempt to understand the configurations they were describing. Trait listing and time-space systematics seemed to be the primary goals of archaeological endeavor. Hence, the main point P P 6146 the processualists were making was not that cultural history is bad per se but rather that it differs significantly from the broader approach they proposed and that it has far less scientific value. The cultural history vs. cultural process debate – as it took shape in the 1970s – seems to be over. Most archaeologists understood the differences just described, and many broadened their approaches to include explicit problem definition prior to fieldwork as well as formulation of testable hypotheses concerning the expected results of that fieldwork. Even those who continued to be particularistic cultural historians became more careful about the basis for their interpretations of the past. Processual archaeology was eagerly embraced by most younger Americanist practitioners. By the late 1970s, processual archaeology was so widely accepted in the USA that NSF peer review panels for archaeological proposals, for example, required clearly defined and justified anthropologically significant research problems with clearly defined research designs specifying expectations (hypotheses) to be tested by the proposed fieldwork. One 1970s observer – Robert C. Dunnell – did voice some serious qualms, however: The rapid development of CRM has to a certain degree upset the normal progress of disciplinary development (in Americanist archaeology) because it threatens to make permanent the condition of the discipline at a time in which rigidity is least warranted (Dunnell 1979: 449). As he makes clear, Dunnell’s reservations derived in large part from his concern about the impact of Cultural Resource Management in the USA subsequent to the 1974 addition (via what was known at the time as the Moss-Bennett Bill or the Archeological Data Preservation Act) of archaeological remains to federal environmental impact legislation. Fortunately, Dunnell’s worst fears did not come to pass, thanks to strenuous and unremitting efforts by both academically based and CRM archaeologists working with each other and with American Indian groups as well as other local communities and stakeholders. Processualism in Archaeological Theory Such efforts continue to the present time and have caused significant alterations in the scope and practice of archaeology in the USA, the great majority of which is now CRM archaeology. While CRM legislation was transforming the organization of archaeology in the USA, however, a different set of powerful challenges to the theoretical core of processualist Americanist archaeology arose in England and Western Europe (Hodder 1982; Shennan 1986). In one of the first formal accounts of major disagreement with the processualist agenda, Ian Hodder (1985) used the term “postprocessualism,” which is still a convenient label for the wide array of antiprocessualist as well as non-processualist perspectives that emerged within Euroamerican archaeological discourse during the 1980s and after. As noted above, in Binford’s first call to reform Americanist archaeology (1962), he refers to potential recovery from the archaeological record not only of technomic but also sociotechnic and ideo-technic data enabling inferences about ancient sociocultural and cognitive systems. Many early processualist studies were well conceived and well executed, and several made careful use of ethnographic data (e.g., see Hill 1970). Moreover, some archaeologists undertook archaeologically relevant ethnographic fieldwork themselves in aid of specific archaeological projects (Binford 1978, and see David & Kramer 2001). The great majority of research by processualists, however (especially that of Binford, the primary role model), centered upon relations among the subsistence-settlement systems of ancient communities and their ecological contexts. Hence, although many 1960s–1970s processualist efforts were very successful, they were also quite narrowly focused, leaving the practitioners vulnerable to critiques by postprocessualists who pointed out the general lack of attention by processualists not only to what Binford had called socio-technic and ideotechnic realms of culture and society but also to the sociopolitical contexts of archaeology as a disciplinary community and of individual Processualism in Archaeological Theory archaeologists operating within contemporary nation-states. By the mid-1980s, one European archaeologist confidently stated that the center of gravity for theoretical archaeology had shifted from the USA to Europe and that “the days when keen young undergraduates and research students eagerly awaited the next issue of American Antiquity are long gone” (Shennan 1986: 327). Key Issues/Current Debates As outlined above, key issues for processualist archaeologists initially were definition of significant, anthropologically relevant research goals and the best means for reaching them via scientific methods. In fact, however, most early processualist studies were focused upon investigating past physical and biological environments of archaeological sites and regions with emphasis upon subsistence regimes and settlement systems characterizing communities that once inhabited those ancient environments. Early advocates of New Archaeology or processual archaeology were more intent upon scientific method than upon social theory, more upon epistemology than ontology. Methodological reform of traditional time-space systematics archaeology was certainly warranted, but just as that reform became widely accepted, the narrowness of the original processualist program was vigorously attacked by archaeologists in England and continental Europe who were not committed to archaeology as anthropology or archaeology as science vis-a-vis archaeology as traditional cultural history or art history. They were also conversant with large bodies of literature on social theory that were not then present in the scholarly backgrounds of most Americanist archaeologists. The initial postprocessualist impact during the 1980s and 1990s was the entering wedge for an enormously broadened scope of archaeological debate well beyond that defined during the 1960s–1970s by processualist archaeologists. A vastly wider array of orientations and goals was strongly advocated, ranging from symbolicstructuralism and other paleo-cognitive 6147 P orientations to latter-day Marxian and postcolonialist perspectives. There was considerable emphasis upon issues of gender, both past (i.e., seeking evidence of gender-based activities in the archaeological record) and present (e.g., recognizing gender-based differences in contemporary beliefs about appropriate education for male vs. female student archaeologists). Much concern was also directed toward descendant communities and indigenous groups, to contemporary processes of domination and resistance in colonial situations or totalitarian nation-states, and to the political uses of archaeology. Postprocessualists urged archaeologists to practice their profession as self-aware and socially responsible citizens of the modern world. International Perspectives Processual archaeology was a mid-twentiethcentury development, created and initially promulgated by anthropological archaeologists in the United States. The wide array of orientations and approaches loosely grouped under the rubrics of postprocessual (and by now postpostprocessual) archaeology is primarily a product of European archaeologists drawing upon European social theory and philosophical systems. The original global forum for archaeological research, the International Union of Preand Protohistoric Sciences, was founded in 1931. The heavily Eurocentric IUPPS was a scholarly organization overtly disengaged from nationalist and global political venues. In 1986, the IUPPS was challenged by a new international organization: World Archaeological Congress (Ucko 1987; Gero 2008). Although the two were originally hostile, even antithetical, at present they are more or less complementary. Whereas the IUPPS maintains much of its original scholarly character, WAC is not only global and cosmopolitan but is also socially responsible, activist, and engaged. The WAC membership is dedicated to what is sometimes called valuecommitted archaeology, which Gero (2008) says is the archaeology of the future. P P 6148 Future Directions New technologies now accessible to archaeologists offer great promise for learning about the past. Perhaps the most spectacular of these is being use of ancient DNA to track specific prehistoric human populations (e.g., the peopling of Asia and Australia, Rasmussen et al. 2011) and interbreeding, or lack thereof, between Neanderthals and archaic Homo sapiens (Currat & Excoffier 2011), as well as the histories of domesticated plants and animals (e.g., Marshall & Hildebrand 2002; Zeder et al. 2006). Another fruitful trajectory is the application of techniques long in use, such as obsidian sourcing, to provide empirical means of delineating evidence for ethnogenesis in the archaeological record (Scheiber & Finley 2011: 376-77). Yet another very promising development builds upon the original central concern of processualist archaeologists: interaction between past human communities and their environments. Archaeological data from several locales in the Americas and elsewhere on long-term patterns in human/ environment relations are now sufficiently detailed to provide important information that can and should be used to influence national and international policy makers (Fisher et al. 2009; Miller et al. 2011). For the foreseeable future, WAC will continue to be a global forum for activism by archaeologists everywhere. Such a forum is especially important considering the hard fact – and the commitment necessary to do everything possible to mitigate that fact – of rapid catastrophic destruction of the archaeological record by development of all kinds throughout the world. This includes continuously expanding urbanization; continuously expanding agricultural systems; continuously expanding transportation networks; and increasingly intensive exploration for and exploitation of oil, gas, and coalfields. Concomitantly, there is the equally catastrophic disappearance of once highly diverse traditional lifeways around the globe in the face of increasingly powerful (monolithic, multinational Processualism in Archaeological Theory corporate) socioeconomic forces operating everywhere on our planet. In addition to all the above, myriads of archaeological sites are being and will continue to be damaged or destroyed as will museums, cultural heritage locales, and materials in areas where regional conflict destroys cities, towns, and landscapes. Systematic destruction of the Bamiyan Valley Buddhas is one of the bestknown modern examples, but there are a great many more. It appears that both short-term emergency archaeological salvage and long-term restoration of items and institutions pertaining to cultural heritage are permanent necessities in the modern world. Finally, there will continue to be considerable diversity in the goals of people doing archaeology and, therefore, in the actual practice of archaeology internationally. But the core methodological procedures of processual archaeology are basic to all empirically oriented archaeological endeavors and will remain so far as long as the discipline survives. Cross-References ▶ Binford, Lewis R. (Theory) ▶ New Archaeology, Development of ▶ Watson, Patty Jo ▶ Wylie, Alison References BELLWOOD, P. 2009. The dispersals of established food-producing populations. Current Anthropology 50: 621-6. BINFORD, L.R. 1962. Archaeology as anthropology. American Antiquity 9: 208-19. - 1964. A consideration of archeological research design. American Antiquity 29: 425-51. - 1965. Archaeological systematics and the study of cultural process. American Antiquity 31: 203-10. - 1978. Nunamiut ethnoarchaeology. New York: Academic Press. BINFORD, S. & L.R. BINFORD. (ed.) 1968. New perspectives in archaeology. Chicago (IL): Aldine. Processualism in Archaeological Theory CURRAT, M. & L. EXCOFFIER. 2011. Strong reproductive isolation between humans and Neanderthals inferred from observed patterns of introgression. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 108 (37): 15129-34. DAVID, N. & C. KRAMER. 2001. Ethnoarchaeology in action. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. DUNNELL, R.C. 1979. Trends in current Americanist archaeology. American Journal of Archaeology 83: 437-49. FISHER, C.T., J.B. HILL & G.M. FEINMAN. (ed.) 2009. The archaeology of environmental change: socionatural legacies of degradation and resilience. Tucson (AZ): University of Arizona Press. FLANNERY, K.V. 1973. Archaeology with a capital S, in C. L. Redman (ed.) Research and theory in current archaeology: 47-53. New York: Wiley. GERO, J. 2008. The history of the World Archaeological Congress. Available at: http://www.worldarchaeologicalcongress.org/about-wac/history/146-history-wac. HILL, J. N. 1970. Broken K Pueblo: prehistoric social organization in the American Southwest (Anthropological Papers of the University of Arizona 18). Tucson: University of Arizona Press. HALL, R.L. 1977. An anthropocentric perspective for Eastern U.S. prehistory. American Antiquity 42: 499-518. HODDER, I. 1982. Theoretical archaeology: a reactionary view in Symbolic and structural archaeology: 1-16. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. - 1985. Postprocessual archaeology, in M. Schiffer (ed.) Advances in archaeological method and theory 8: 1-26. New York: Academic Press. MACA, A.L., J.E. REYMAN & W.J. FOLAN. (ed.) 2010. Prophet, pariah, and pioneer: Walter W. Taylor and dissension in American archaeology. Boulder (CO): University Press of Colorado. MARSHALL, F. & E. HILDEBRAND. 2002. Cattle before crops: the beginnings of food production in Africa. Journal of World Prehistory 16: 99-143. MILLER, N.F., K.M. MOORE & K. RYAN. (ed.) 2011. Sustainable lifeways: cultural persistence in an everchanging environment. Philadelphia (PA): University Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology. RASMUSSEN, M. et al. (29 additional co-investigators) 2011. An aboriginal Australian genome reveals separate human dispersals into Asia. Science 334(6052): 94-8. SHENNAN, S. 1986. Towards a critical archaeology? Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 52: 327-56. TAYLOR, W.W. 1948. A study of archeology (American Anthropological Association Memoir 69). Menasha (WI): American Anthropological Association. WATSON, P.J., S.A. LEBLANC & C.L. REDMAN. 1984. Archeological explanation: the scientific method in archaeology. New York: Columbia University Press. ZEDER, M.A., D.G. BRADLEY, E. EMSHWILLER & B.D. SMITH. (ed.) 2006. Documenting domestication: new genetic and archaeological paradigms. Berkeley (CA): University of California Press. 6149 P Further Reading AGBE-DAVIES, A.S. (ed.) 2011. Special forum: archaeology and anthropology: a view from the AAA. SAA Archaeological Record 11: 21-47. BINFORD, L.R. 2001. Constructing frames of reference: an analytical method for archaeological theory building using hunter-gatherer and environmental data sets. Berkeley: University of California Press. COLWELL-CHANTHAPHONH, C., T.J. FERGUSON, D. LIPPERT, R. H. MCGUIRE, G.P. NICHOLAS, J.E. WATKINS, & L. J. ZIMMERMAN. 2010. The premise and promise of indigenous archaeology. American Antiquity 75: 228-38. HODDER, I. & S. HUTSON. 2003. Reading the past: current approaches to interpretation in archaeology, 3rd edn. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. JOHNSON, A.L. 2008. Processual archaeology, in D.M. Pearsall (ed.) Encyclopedia of archaeology: 1894-96. Oxford: Academic Press, Elsevier. KING, T. F. 2008. Cultural resource laws and practice. Lanham (MD): AltaMira Press. KOHL, P L. & C. FAWCETT. (ed.) 1995. Nationalism, politics, and the practice of archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. LONGACRE, W.A.(ed.) 1991. Ceramic ethnoarchaeology. Tucson (AZ): University of Arizona Press. REDMAN, C.L., S.R. JAMES, P.R. FISH & J.D. ROGERS. (ed.) 2004. The archaeology of global change: the impact of humans on their environment. Tucson (AZ): University of Arizona Press. SABASTIAN, L. & W.D. LIPE. (ed.) 2011. Archaeology and cultural resource management: visions for the future (School for Advanced Research Advanced Seminar series). Santa Fe: School of Advanced Research. SCHEIBER, L.L. & J.B. FINLEY. 2011. Obsidian source use in the greater Yellowstone area, Wyoming basin, and central Rocky Mountains. American Antiquity 76 (2):372-94. SCHIFFER, M.B. 2011. Studying technological change: a behavioral approach. Salt Lake City (UT): University of Utah Press. UCKO, P. 1987. Academic freedom and apartheid: the story of the World Archaeological Congress. London: Duckworth. WATSON, P.J. 1992. Explanation in archaeology: reactions and rebuttals, in L. Embree (ed.) Metaarchaeology: reflections by archaeologists and philosophers (Boston Studies in the Philosophy of Science 147): 121-140. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers. - 2008. Processualism and after, in R.A. Bentley, H.D.G. Maschner & C. Chippindale (ed.) Handbook of archaeological theories: 29-38. Lanham (MD): AltaMira Press. - 2009. Archaeology and anthropology: a personal overview of the past half-century. Annual Review of Anthropology 38: 1-15. Palo Alto (CA): Annual Reviews. P P 6150 Professionalization: Archaeology as an “Expert” Knowledge Professionalization: Archaeology as an “Expert” Knowledge Sara Perry Department of Archaeology, University of York, York, UK Introduction Archaeology as a professionalized practice – with accredited specialists, institutional support, defined methodologies, and a coherent knowledge base – has a convoluted history. By some accounts, that history extends back no more than a half century, to the post-World War II era and, in particular, to the 1960s and 1970s. By other accounts, it stretches across multiple centuries (if not millennia), with a range of interested individuals and materials converging at various times and places in the making of archaeological expertise. Typical reviews of such disciplinary development tend to emphasize intellectual progression or the role of a select number of notable people in creating a professional archaeological environment. Iconic publications such as Trigger’s (2006) A History of Archaeological Thought and Daniel’s (1981) A Short History of Archaeology bear witness to these tendencies, compiling the rise of different modes of thinking at the hands of a series of heroic-seeming figures (e.g., the United Kingdom-based V. Gordon Childe or the Swedish archaeologist Oscar Montelius) into a cohesive narrative of the discipline’s evolution. Increasingly, however, fine-grained oral historical research and institutional analyses hint at the more or less unquantifiable, broadly informed, and always changing nature of the field. Herein, archaeology’s professional culture is shown to be not so easily contained, having long been built up and molded out of methodologies and contributors from different areas of practice. These include both academic and nonacademic specialists engaging with a range of different modes of labor and publicity – from exhibitions to site visits, magazines and public lectures – that go far beyond traditional excavation and artifact studies alone. The following entry outlines a history of archaeology that acknowledges the variety of experts and forms of expertise that have manifested in professional archaeological work. It builds upon sociological and anthropological scholarship on professionalization and the constitution of expertise (e.g., Carr 2010) and, in so doing, speaks not so much to the conceptualization of the archaeological record, but to the manner by which people and objects have come together to naturalize these acts of conceptualizing. Definition While the history of archaeology has been told by many scholars – both historians and archaeologists themselves – the specific means by which individual interests in old objects were formalized into an internationally recognized speciality legitimated by the university system are less clear. This process of professionalization is typically appreciated as a cumulative and iterative exercise, as people came together through shared concerns and then began to articulate distinctive social and behavioral identities (both spoken and unspoken) linked to specific environments (both formal and informal) that ultimately worked to determine and advance future membership in the group. Few archaeologists have meaningfully interrogated such exercises in disciplinary formation, but where so, they have tended to draw upon sociological scholarship or social and historical studies of science (e.g., by Pierre Bourdieu, Michel Foucault, Antonio Gramsci, T. Lenoir, J.B. Morrell, Steven Shapin) to define their dimensions (e.g., Moser 1995; Patterson 1999; Smith 2009; Perry 2011). According to this literature, professional culture tends to entail a learned jargon, standard methodologies and conceptual models, recognized spaces of learning (e.g., the field site or laboratory), clear means to disseminate ideas and research results (e.g., publication channels and pedagogical programs), and sustained infrastructure for financing and Professionalization: Archaeology as an “Expert” Knowledge otherwise supporting these exploits. Smith’s (2009) critical reflections on the components of professionalization go further to suggest that student creativity, collegiality, and informal places of knowledge exchange (e.g., tea rooms) are also among those traits crucial to the construction and perpetuation of worlds of expertise. While the exact “ingredients” for disciplinary success vary by field of practice, as Moser (1995) outlines, the professionalization process – as applied to archaeology in particular – appears to follow a clear trajectory. In the first instance, a body of foundational knowledge is generated by various individuals who come to interact with one another through their common interests. The practice of knowledge creation leads naturally into the demarcation of specific methodologies and terminologies, which then become increasingly refined and embellished through application in the field. Participating in this process thus works to elaborate a particularized cognitive base, increasing its complexity to the point where instructional manuals and formal means of conveying methods, concepts, and interpretations become necessary to sustain development. So too does it formalize a community of practice around which a sense of expert identity begins to manifest. Participation effectively becomes a rite of passage, socializing individuals and denoting their belonging and inclusion in a now otherwise exclusive group. These individuals are trained by people who are understood to demonstrate competence in the field and that training tends to be oriented towards advancing specific agendas related to such preexisting competencies. But the fluid and social nature of tuition means that, in its very enactment, students begin to generate new networks, procedures, pupils, and associated outputs that further extend the nature of the practice. They then become key to maintaining and furthering the institutional infrastructure required to prop up the many facets of this work. As per Christensen (2011: 9 citing Larson 1977: 17), it is in this moment when “the production of knowledge and the production of producers are united into the same structure” (and that structure is supported by paid labor) that a profession comes into being. 6151 P Together, such activities, products, and people constitute what Moser (1995) calls a disciplinary culture – a community subscribing to an interlinked and self-reinforcing set of cognitive and cultural identities. Such a community holds the monopoly over a body of knowledge and methodologies: its members read similar things, participate in similar pursuits, speak a similar language, cite one another’s works, and collectively respond to the needs of a wider public. At once, they exclude this wider public via their apparent solidarity and, in so doing, demonstrate the simultaneously “repressive and productive” Foucauldian power dynamics regularly observed in the manifestation of expertise (see Carr 2010: 18). Indeed, definitions of professionalization often also revolve around amateur/expert status distinctions, where less-knowing dilettantes or hobbyists are seen to be slowly pushed aside by more informed and “qualified” workers. Such a perspective tends to denigrate or entirely dismiss the contributions of so-called amateurs to the overall institutionalization of archaeology. At the same time, it often separates amateurs out as a self-defined, self-segregating body of individuals who do not make their living via archaeological knowledge making, but who engage in aspects of its practice purely for leisure’s sake. It is in these very processes of ostracizing such people from the production of valid knowledge that professionals come to invent themselves as the keepers of expertise. Yet archaeology’s professional status depends upon a range of participants – with their differing skillsets and specialties – to sustain itself today. As Carr (2010) notes, on the ground, expertise is born out of its enactment – in its gestures, its spoken words, its apprenticeship of new workers, its engagements with people outside the institution, its application of different forms of specialized media, etc. In other words, it is always in a state of evolution. Historical Background To tell the history of archaeology’s professionalization is to trace back to the first recorded P P 6152 Professionalization: Archaeology as an “Expert” Knowledge instances of collecting practice, where individuals begin to gather demonstrably old objects with an eye towards establishing their age, interpreting their function, and placing them on display (either for personal or wider consumption). Some date such practice to at least 2000 BCE in Egypt, Mesopotamia, and China and suggest that it was often accompanied by attempts at excavation work (Schnapp 2002). The unearthing of unexpected assemblages from prehistoric sites has led to further speculation that humans across time and space have always had a tendency to invest in collecting activities (Schnapp 2002). Others, writing more targeted, method- and region-specific histories of archaeology, situate the earliest excavations in Britain, for instance, to Medieval times (c. 1190) as devotees sought to substantiate the presence of saints or confirm Arthurian mythology. However, it is collecting and work with collections, above any recognizable form of fieldwork, that became the breeding ground for archaeology’s emergence (also see Lucas 2001). In all cases, these activities were pursued by varied individuals not discernable as modern-day archaeologists. Indeed, the entire conceptual and methodological basis for, as an example, prehistoric archaeology arguably derived from heterogeneous practitioners (e.g., clerics) and cognate fields – geology, anthropology, and paleontology (which were themselves all in a state of emergence) – especially across the nineteenth century. Hence, the concept of a professionalized prehistoric archaeology was effectively nonexistent until approximately 100 years ago. However, what is critical is that the roots of such professionalism lie in the systematization and relationships between people and things that grew out of the earliest collecting activities. While these activities might be poorly documented in terms of their initial scope, by the time of the Renaissance, they had begun to proliferate in conjunction with growing trade, travel to the Western Hemisphere, more broadscale appreciation of history and artistic trends, and increasing pressure for individuals to conspicuously display their connections to such pursuits. A unique collection could testify to one’s status, education, and networks of affiliation, with the consequence that collecting became a means of affirming the identities of a growing portion of the population. The resultant assemblages of objects tended to be fairly encyclopedic in terms of their spread. They often included a range of specimens from around the world, some with medicinal or therapeutic properties, some Classical relics, and some purely curious, but all “valued for their intrinsic rarity, for the romantic echoes of the far-away and strange with which they tantalized the imagination, and, sometimes, for their aesthetic virtue and workmanship” (Pearce 1990: 20). Significantly, it was generally in grouping together these objects for showcasing in private spaces that they then became the testing grounds for systematic comparison, theory building, and explanation about the natural and cultural worlds. They were increasingly subject to labelling and categorization, usually according to the prevailing conceptual paradigms of the time (e.g., animal-vegetable-mineral, earth-air-firewater). From at least the sixteenth century onwards, concerted intellectual work on such collections expanded to the extent that some were supplemented with guidebooks or human guides in an effort to manage viewers’ understandings of the materials. Similarly, some were moved out of single, private study rooms into larger galleries – what we might now identify as museum spaces – to allow more considered attention to the presentation and accessibility of the objects. Concurrent with changes to this physical staging of collections, dissemination beyond the display space itself gained ground via the production of manuals, atlases, and catalogues of objects (e.g., Schnapp 2002; Moser 2013). Indeed, collectors began to invest in artists to record their own personal collections, document other collections of interest, or copy from preexisting collections in manuscripts. That illustrative practice itself was then increasingly refined, with depicted materials becoming more abstract and standardized to allow comparison and structured evaluation. In this sense, early gallery/museum work and illustrative work (circulated via published sources) ran in parallel, feeding back Professionalization: Archaeology as an “Expert” Knowledge into one another as regards the construction of object types and the articulation of basic schemas for making sense of artifactual and other materials. Publication is credited by many as the transformative force in crystallizing professional growth. As per Schnapp (2002: 137), it “provided the means of social and intellectual visibility of the antiquarian discipline.” Arguably, however, this emphasis on publication perpetuates the long-lived tension in historically oriented studies to privilege textual outputs above material remains (for a recent discussion of this tension see Lucas 2012). At the same time, it distracts from the many related activities that fed into the building of archaeological communities. Where archaeology finds its bearings is in its privileging of the material, its attention to objects themselves, and in the collectivities (people and other artifacts) that form around these objects. Some see such focusing of attention on artifacts above text as a patently strategic move by interested individuals looking to carve out a distinct niche of practice (e.g., Lucas 2012: 22). Regardless of the intentionality behind it, from the seventeenth century onwards, propelled by Renaissance and emerging Enlightenment developments, an observable shift in concern towards material sources (away from purely literary sources) manifested itself (Moser 2013). More collecting led naturally into more contemplation of those finds; and opportunities for conversation about them were facilitated by the foundation of key learned societies (e.g., the Royal Society in 1660; the Society of Antiquaries of London in 1707) and the first public museums (see DiazAndreu 2007; Pearce 2007). The latter are particularly important as they tended to be characterized by the movement of previously private collections into university or nationally sponsored galleries, making them accessible on a larger scale. Accordingly, these new spaces (e.g., the Ashmolean – the earliest public museum in the world – which opened in 1683 in Oxford, UK) became home to the same mixture of exotic specimens and antiquities once so integral to individual identity building. However, such collections continued to operate here 6153 P in a similar fashion as before, yet at a larger scale – as resources for study and affirmations of institutional and national status. Classical objects, in particular, suggested a direct connection to revered cultures of the past, and as their institutional showcasing coincided with major colonizing activities around the world, we see these original collections expanded often as a result of federally sanctioned missions to elaborate them. Antiquities hence became embroiled in a nationalistic enterprise as states and major organizations sought to legitimate their standing (Diaz-Andreu 2007). This, in turn, fuelled further collecting and dedicated excavation work. In concert with such institutional development, learned societies continued to grow. Despite their often ephemeral nature, these societies were indispensable to the cultivation of knowledgeable antiquarians, and they are now appreciated by some as the lynchpins of disciplinary development (e.g., Sweet 2004). They provided forums for individuals with shared interests to meet, correspond, exchange transactions, view objects (either physically on display in meetings or illustrated in society publications), avail themselves of associated libraries, and otherwise generally “participate in the wider world of learning” (Sweet 2004: 81). Their networks were wide, spreading across Europe and European colonies into the Americas and Asia (Sweet 2004; Diaz-Andreu 2007). Some such societies were implicated in the establishment of the first major public museums (e.g., the Museum of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland founded in 1780). However, they also manifested, for instance, in Britain from the early 1800s, in smaller literary and philosophical societies and county archaeological societies, where individuals who perhaps did not have the means to journey abroad (but who nevertheless shared the epistemological impulse to observe, explain, situate themselves in, and order the world around them) sought out local antiquities for their collections (Pearce 1990). Together, these societies helped to propel a trade in artifacts; and at the same time, they facilitated discussion about both the nature of the artifacts themselves and the most systematic means for acquiring them. As such, P P 6154 Professionalization: Archaeology as an “Expert” Knowledge they were among the “circulation systems” (also including auction houses and dealers) key to supplying the material remains around which archaeology emerged (after Gosden & Larson 2007: 49, 52). Their interests fed into barrow digging and an increase in excavation activities, and their collections became showpieces for the wave of new museums that opened in the midnineteenth century. That wave (evident across Europe) was prompted in part by state concern to educate (and, arguably via such education, placate) citizens and in part by the success of great international expositions (Pearce 1990; Diaz-Andreu 2007). In Britain, for instance, such museums and related exhibitions promised a platform for “social reform and industrial progress,” and their viewing became part of the recreational endeavors of middle class individuals (Gosden & Larson 2007: 37). On the ground, though, they were the seedbeds for honing the archaeological eye – that is, for breeding public recognition of an emerging field of artifactual study and for acting as convergence points for those articulating that study. What is critical is that these museums often assumed a role equivalent to the scientific laboratory, with curators sometimes explicitly acknowledging their lab-like possibilities – where “ideas could be developed, tested, or discarded” (Gosden & Larson 2007: 63, in reference to the curator Henry Balfour’s perception of the Pitt Rivers Museum). Like the manuals of antiquities published from the sixteenth century, museums offered room to experiment with concepts, refine categories, and literally institutionalize ways of thinking about the past based on observable materials. Such is true in the broader sciences as well, with some arguing that investment in scientific laboratories actually followed that of museums as sites for knowledge making. Either way, they seem to have provided the earliest solid infrastructure for archaeological work, with some claiming that the first dedicated chairs of archaeology were specifically employed with an aim towards training for museum, library, and archival work (Diaz-Andreu 2007). The Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology in the USA established in 1866, for example, has been credited with crafting “an institutional framework within which scholars could do scientific work” (Christensen 2011: 13). These spaces effectively set in place the first meaningful homes for archaeology, and it is significant that some of the most paradigmatic shifts in archaeological thinking came about via museum-based activities (see below). While the earliest university post in archaeology is attributed to Uppsala in 1662, such positions were incredibly limited, and their holders tended to simultaneously occupy most other related posts in a given country (e.g., museum, governmental, and university-based) (Kaeser 2006; Diaz-Andreu 2007). In other words, these first professionals were often working in some isolation on all aspects of the antiquarian pursuit at once. Arguably, it was only as museums (and associated cultural institutions) exploded in the mid-nineteenth century that a genuine lack of sufficient specialists to fill related positions exposed itself, and hence, attention to formal means of outputting a competent workforce began to grow (Kaeser 2006). As Browman (2002) has noted, individuals such as the American Frederic Ward Putnam (1839–1915), who held or established many of the foundational disciplinary appointments in the USA, were trained in a bespoke, apprentice-like fashion and tended to replicate such training in their own early practice. Here, again, the museum (the Peabody) was the staging ground for capacity building, and in conjunction with expansion of the museological collections, but without a formal student body for support, Putnam sought out connections with interested people around the USA via correspondence (Browman 2002). Akin to (if not indivisible from) the circulation systems of learned societies, this “correspondence school” of archaeology (Browman 2002: 219 citing Hinsley 1999: 144) allowed for exchanges of ideas and methods of collecting, recruitment of new people onto excavation expeditions to expand the collections, and acquisition of other personal collections. However, it also helped to demarcate the institution as the arbiter of knowledge making, as individuals then began to turn to institutionally sited practitioners to validate their finds and seek Professionalization: Archaeology as an “Expert” Knowledge out further training. The advantage, as has been noted for prehistoric archaeology, was that these sites provided an opportunity to “put an end to the previous epistemological confusion,” fostering common methodologies and harnessing the seeming authority of the institutional structure to “lay down the heuristic frameworks of the prehistoric science to come” (Kaeser 2006: 153). Around Europe, the museum was long a driving force in the conceptual solidification of archaeology, as its collections offered the comparative materials necessary to think through chronologies and typologies, which themselves then supplied the fabric for pursuing further intellectual work. Base epistemological frames for archaeological thinking, such as Danish C.J. Thomsen’s Three-Age System, were developed and elaborated specifically in the museum environment on collections that were then put on display for visitors and, in their showing, thereby subject to more interrogation. The British-based General Pitt Rivers’ typological-evolutionary take on human history and the contrasting culturehistorical approach of the US-based Franz Boas (Gosden & Larson 2007) were similarly articulated and debated through active negotiation of collections in museological/display spheres. These same museums often stood as the first lecture spaces for concerted teaching of archaeology, and as per above, their growth in numbers over the course of the nineteenth century subsequently led to a demand for qualified practitioners to take over new managerial and curatorial posts. In tandem with museum work, related heritage institutions began to spread across Europe in the mid-to-late nineteenth century – part of the same ideological drive to unite and propagate identity on a national and regional level (Kaeser 2006). The British predicament, where “demonstration of a preservation ethic came to be seen as a hallmark of a ‘civilized’ nation” (Emerick 2003), had currency abroad as well, leading to the establishment of governmental posts and associated protective legislation for historical places and monuments and further pushing on the demand for qualified workers (Kaeser 2006). This meant that institutional attention then began to be turned towards producing such workers, leading to the articulation of university- 6155 P based accreditation in archaeology around the turn of the twentieth century (see below). From the perspective of professionalization, therefore, it is at this point that archaeology had the scaffolding in place to elaborate a disciplinary culture. Indeed, it follows a general trend evident across the sciences in the late nineteenth century towards increasingly professionalized practice. By this time, foundational concepts had been articulated, some basic procedures for studying material culture were under development, and an authoritative base centered especially in the museum was in place to support the ongoing activities of the community. Expertise in the methodology of excavation itself arguably played a marginal role in the beginnings of archaeology (Lucas 2001), as it tended to be from the observation and handling of objects (directly or indirectly through visualizations), site visits, conversation and sharing of resources, and subsequent intellectual exercises in classification and schema construction using collected materials that the basic infrastructure for the discipline emerged. While institutionally recognized “professionals” were few and their activities extensive, their connections to learned societies and other productive people, places, and materials (e.g., collections) together created the architecture for the professionalization of the field. These same individuals were often directly linked to the development of the first discipline-specific periodicals and to major congresses and conferences that brought interested people together under increasingly formalized circumstances. Some such circumstances, such as the International Congress of Anthropology and Prehistoric Archaeology (Congrès international d’anthropologie et d’archéologie préhistoriques), founded in the 1860s, were among the earliest transcontinental networking spaces, where hundreds of individuals with varying levels of expertise could gather every year or so to discuss emerging knowledge and techniques. With such communities of practitioners thus in place, it was with the ensuing development of a rigorous educational structure (for outputting sufficient workers to satisfy demand) that the professional archaeological industry coalesced. P P 6156 Professionalization: Archaeology as an “Expert” Knowledge Key Issues/Current Debates It is the twentieth century and beyond that perhaps represents the most controversial stage in archaeology’s solidification, arguably because consideration of this timeframe has been less concerted and consistent. There is general agreement that it is distinguished by the emergence of university-based expertise, which effectively sets in place a self-perpetuating cycle for the discipline – yielding students specifically trained in “archaeology” who then seek archaeological employment at organizations which scout out that very brand of institutionally sanctioned archaeological knowledge. Some see this period as the second phase in the institutionalization process (Kaeser 2006) – wherein the ensconcing of archaeology in academia provides for its “anchoring in the long term,” apart from the often ephemeral constitution of societies, congresses, journals, and even museological institutions in the nineteenth century and before. As per above, scholarly departments of archaeology sometimes evolved out of preexisting museum spaces, at the hands of enterprising specialists, and/or even out of the remnant collections of international expositions (e.g., see Browman 2002). But the growth of the archaeological education business is subject to debate, with suggestions that for most of the early twentieth century, student numbers were minute and employment opportunities comparable. Emerging research hints that the situation was more complex and that the tendency to reduce twentieth-century archaeology to academia alone deserves to be questioned. In Britain, for instance, 1 year after its official launch in 1937, London University’s Institute of Archaeology was outputting upwards of 100 students per year in a rigorous, laboratoryoriented archaeological style taught by many of the leading practitioners of the time (Perry 2011). This institution was simultaneously invested in the design and dissemination of major archaeological exhibitions, which were advertised across the country, attracting a viewership that numbered, in some cases, in the thousands. It is also linked to the earliest British television broadcasts of archaeology, which evolved over time to become crucial means of publicizing, attracting support for, and recruiting new pupils into the discipline. Even in the late 1920s, individual archaeology classes run through University College London saw registration of c. 20 students each (predominantly, if not fully, female); and major excavations at sites such as Maiden Castle in the 1930s embraced 100 or more students and assistants per year, with thousands of visitors and tens of thousands of related souvenirs and publications sold (Perry 2011). Moreover, extramural education in British archaeology had its origins as early as the 1940s, and dedicated excavation training schools are documented from at least the 1930s. Across Europe and North America, such disciplinary growth continued, propelled in particular by the Depression and World War II. In the USA, the former led to government investment in archaeological practice to assist with job creation, thereby fuelling a need for trained workers (Patterson 1999). In Europe, the latter resulted in regeneration efforts (both historical and industrial), ultimately manifesting in documentation work and rescue archaeology that demanded the labor of dedicated commercial archaeological units and associated volunteers (Roskams 2001), again fuelling university enrollment numbers. What is critical for professionalization is that, in all cases, post-WWII is marked by increasing specialization within the discipline as the nature of practice extended itself; an escalating codification of such practice, with the publication of further manuals and textbooks and the drafting of the first codes of ethics; growth in the number and variety of professional organizations, which carry on the networking and convergence functions of earlier learned societies and which themselves continue to contribute to disciplinary codification and publication; greater legal and legislative attention to the nature of archaeology owing to its ballooning relationship to city planning and industrial development; and heightening stratification within the archaeological workforce, generating a full spectrum of laborers – from itinerant fieldworkers to interested volunteers, to full-time unionized staff, office-based professionals, academic elite and transient lecturers (Patterson 1999; Roskams 2001). Professionalization: Archaeology as an “Expert” Knowledge Importantly, then, the makeup of the discipline is seemingly no more uniform today than formerly; and the long-standing argument that socalled amateurs have been displaced from archaeology is highly debatable. Key museological collections have been birthed out of, and continue to be amplified by, donations from a range of contributors (both accredited specialists and not) (e.g., Gosden & Larson 2007); excavations still rely on volunteer efforts; and funding for practice is often tied directly into broader public impact. Many people, sites, and materials have always and collectively been indispensable to the cycle of disciplinary knowledge construction. What has changed over time, therefore, is arguably no more than the number of people and things involved and the means by which they are organized and classified. International Perspectives Outside of Euro-America, the professionalization process for archaeology has followed a similar path, although there is evidence from both Japan and China that robust antiquarian enquiry and publication (e.g., in the form of antiquities manuals) might have emerged much earlier than in Europe (Schnapp 2002; Lozny 2011). Critically, however, from approximately the nineteenth century onwards, a general trend presented itself of concepts and methodologies spreading from Euro-American institutions abroad, either via movement of Euro-American-trained practitioners to foreign locations (not infrequently in association with colonization ventures) or via training of foreigners at Euro-American institutions followed by their return home to apply such training domestically (see contributions in Lozny 2011). Regardless of the direction of their movement, once ensconced internationally, these various practitioners participated in the production of region-specific terminologies and typologies, societies, journals, and all those related disciplinary constituents that come to form the anatomy of a distinctive professional culture. Their links to Euro-America also worked to facilitate wider exposure for local research and to cultivate 6157 P systems of patronage on a worldwide scale, which, in turn, fed back into the ongoing validation and scaffolding of archaeological practice overall. Future Directions Professionalization is an ever-evolving process, meaning that its study is continuously open to elaboration. Indeed, focused attention on the professionalization process in archaeology is still rare, making the scope for further enquiry relatively vast. Growing attention to institutional histories has been among the catalysts for reconsideration of the constitution of expertise in archaeology (e.g., see Kaeser 2006; contributions in Pearce 2007). This work is complemented by recent fine-grained oral historical research (e.g., interviews with current and retired practitioners), as well as gender-oriented studies of the discipline, and concerted interest in all those “forgotten” participants in archaeological knowledge making whose contributions have played into the everyday articulation of the field of practice, yet whose names have generally been eclipsed by the “great” archaeologists documented in typical disciplinary histories (Smith 2009). Those elements of archaeology that make it seem a coherent subject matter – that supply it with a professional air and an expert identity – are similarly seeing greater deliberation, including research into how archaeologists dress, observe the world around them, and speak and conduct themselves in the field. As noted by Gosden and Larson (2007: 151), the term “discipline” “implies an attempt to contain and control something that is essentially unrestrained.” Such has always been the nature of archaeology: a multipronged, composite pursuit that now stands apart as an accredited profession but that has always impinged upon other specialty areas, drawn on methods from a variety of fields, attracted contributors from comparably varied spheres of interest, and attended to materials from all times and places of human existence. Accordingly, perhaps the most productive line of study today is research into the P P 6158 Professionalization: Archaeology as an “Expert” Knowledge networks and movements of people and things across the boundaries of archaeological practice – i.e., enquiry into precisely that set of messy connections and exchanges that has rendered the discipline into something recognizable (e.g., Gosden & Larson 2007). Archaeology, as it is advocated today, is not only a specialist intellectual endeavor but so too a platform for transferable skill development applicable to a range of other fields. In this respect, the boundaries of the professional community are ever-swelling, and the individuals and objects that come together to make it possible and legitimate are likely to continue to challenge its dimensions. Thus, while diverse concerns for the human past may have been consolidated over time into a distinct form of expertise, the professionalization process itself suggests that the nature of that expertise will never be stable. Cross-References ▶ Archaeology in the Enlightenment ▶ Archival Research and Historical Archaeology ▶ British Pioneers and Fieldwork Traditions ▶ Encyclopedic Museum ▶ Heritage Museums and the Public ▶ Oral Sources and Oral History ▶ Public Education and Archaeology: Disciplining Through Education ▶ United Kingdom: Archaeological Museums ▶ Universal Museums References BROWMAN, D. L. 2002. Frederic Ward Putnam: contributions to the development of archaeological institutions and encouragement of women practitioners, in D.L. Browman & S. Williams (ed.) New perspectives on the origins of Americanist archaeology: 209-41. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama. CARR, E.S. 2010. Enactments of expertise. Annual Review of Anthropology 39: 17-32. CHRISTENSON, A.L. 2011. Who were the professional North American archaeologists of 1900? Clues from the work of Warren K. Moorehead. Bulletin of the History of Archaeology 21: 4-23. DIAZ-ANDREU, M. 2007. A world history of nineteenthcentury archaeology: nationalism, colonialism, and the past. Oxford: Oxford University Press. EMERICK, K. 2003. From frozen monuments to fluid landscapes: the conservation and presentation of ancient monuments from 1882 to the present. Unpublished PhD dissertation, University of York. GOSDEN, C. & F. LARSON. 2007. Knowing things: exploring the collections at the Pitt Rivers Museum 1884-1945. Oxford: Oxford University Press. HINSLEY, C.M. 1999. Frederic Ward Putnam, in T. Murray (ed.) Encyclopedia of archaeology, part 1: the great archaeologists. 2:141-74. Santa Barbara: ABC-Clio. KAESER, M.-A. 2006. The first establishment of prehistoric science: the shortcomings of autonomy, in J. Callmer, M. Meyer, R. Struwe & C. Theune (ed.) The beginnings of academic pre- and protohistoric archaeology (1890-1930) in a European perspective: 149-60. Stellerloh: Verlag. LARSON, M.S. 1977. The rise of professionalism: a sociological analysis. Berkeley: University of California Press. LOZNY, L.R. (ed.) 2011. Comparative archaeologies: a sociological view of the science of the past. New York: Springer. LUCAS, G. 2001. Critical approaches to fieldwork: contemporary and historical archaeological practice. London: Routledge. - 2012. Understanding the archaeological record. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. MOSER, S. 1995. Archaeology and its disciplinary culture: the professionalisation of Australian prehistoric archaeology. Unpublished PhD dissertation, University of Sydney. - 2013. Making expert knowledge through the image: connections between antiquarian and early modern scientific illustration. Isis: In press. PATTERSON, T.C. 1999. The political economy of archaeology in the United States. Annual Review of Anthropology 28: 155-74. PEARCE, S. 1990. Archaeological curatorship. London: Leicester University Press. - (ed.) 2007. Visions of antiquity: the Society of Antiquaries of London 1707-2007. London: Society of Antiquaries of London. PERRY, S.E. 2011. The archaeological eye: visualisation and the institutionalisation of academic archaeology in London. Unpublished PhD dissertation, University of Southampton. ROSKAMS, S. 2001. Excavation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. SCHNAPP, A. 2002. Between antiquarians and archaeologists–continuities and ruptures. Antiquity 76: 134-40. SMITH, P.J. 2009. A ‘splendid idiosyncrasy’: prehistory at Cambridge 1915-50 (British Archaeological Reports British series 485). Oxford: Archaeopress. SWEET, R. 2004. Antiquaries: the discovery of the past in eighteenth-century Britain. London: Hambledon and London. Prospection Methods in Archaeology TRIGGER, B.G. 2006. A history of archaeological thought, 2nd edn. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Further Reading ADADIA, O.M. 2010. Beyond externalism. Exploring new directions in the history of archaeology. Archaeological Dialogues 17: 215-36. BRIGGS, C.S. 2011. Some notable British excavations before 1900, in J. Schofield (ed.) Great excavations: shaping the archaeological profession: 12-24. Oxford: Oxbow. CHAPMAN, W. 1989. The organizational context in the history of archaeology: Pitt Rivers and other British archaeologists in the 1860s. Antiquaries Journal 69: 23-42. CHESTER, H.L. 2002. Frances Eliza Babbitt and the growth of professionalism of women in archaeology, in D.L. Browman & S. Williams (ed.) New perspectives on the origins of Americanist archaeology: 164-84. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama. COOPER, A. & T. YARROW. 2012. The age of innocence: personal histories of the 1960s digging circuit in Britain. International Journal of Historical Archaeology 16: 300-18. DANIEL, G. 1981. A short history of archaeology. London: Thames and Hudson. ESKILDSEN, K.R. 2012. The language of objects: Christian Jürgensen Thomsen’s science of the past. Isis 103: 24-53. GOODWIN, C. 1994. Professional vision. American Anthropologist 96: 606-33. GRÄSLUND, B. 2006. Academic archaeology in Sweden up to 1930, in J. Callmer, M. Meyer, R. Struwe & C. Theune (ed.) The beginnings of academic pre- and protohistoric archaeology (1890-1930) in a European perspective: 179-84. Stellerloh: Verlag. HOLTORF, C. 2007. An archaeological fashion show: how archaeologists dress and how they are portrayed in the media, in T. Clack & M. Brittain (ed.) Archaeology and the media: 69-88. Walnut Creek: Left Coast Press. HUDSON, K. 1981. A social history of archaeology: the British experience. London: Macmillan Press. KAESER, M.-A. 2002. On the international roots of prehistory. Antiquity 76: 170-77. MOSER, S. 2007. On disciplinary culture: archaeology as fieldwork and its gendered associations. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory 14: 235-63. PICKSTONE, J.V. 2000. Ways of knowing: a new history of science, technology and medicine. Manchester: Manchester University Press. SCHLANGER, N. 2003. The Burkitt affair revisited. Colonial implications and identity politics in early South African prehistory research. Archaeological Dialogues 10: 5-26. SCHOFIELD, J. 2012. The best degree? Current Archaeology 270: 48-49. SHEPERD, N. 2003. State of the discipline: science, culture and identity in South African archaeology, 1870-2003. Journal of Southern African Studies 29: 823-44. 6159 P SOFFER, R.N. 1982. Why do disciplines fail? The strange case of British sociology. English Historical Review 97: 767-802. SPEIGHT, S. 2002. Digging for history: archaeological fieldwork and the adult student 1943-1975. Studies in the Education of Adults 30: 68-85. TAYLOR, B. 1995. Professionals and the knowledge of archaeology. British Journal of Sociology 46: 499-508. Prospection Methods in Archaeology Steven A. Schmich Archaeological Research Institute, School of Human Evolution & Social Change, Arizona State University, Tempe, AZ, USA Introduction The Third Age of Discovery that helps define our modern era is based on remote sensing and the geophysical inventory of earth largely made possible by advancing technologies (Pyne 1988: 190, 1998: xi). This includes much of the new territory archaeology explored in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. However, it is important to note that for all the technical innovations of geophysical method and satellite imagery, archaeology remains a discipline of and about people. Archaeology is about understanding what it means to be human and increasingly about marshaling the record of tens of thousands of years of human decision-making to deal with the challenges we face today. But this requires that archaeologists be able to look beyond the obvious and not be limited to what is apparent on the surface – by any definition. What the new technologies of prospection have added to archaeology’s repertoire is a glimpse into the “inhuman geography” (Pyne 1998: xi) of our human past, the places where we cannot go or where experience indicates that we defer going by more traditional methods like excavation. Necessarily, these technologies have evolved alongside dramatic increases in readily available computer power that allow us to process and find P P 6160 the meaningful patterns among incoming multitudes of new information. Data collection continues to be the most straightforward element of archaeological prospection with days often required to process the data collected in a few well-spent hours (Conyers 2010: 122). The published record is noticeably weighted toward case studies demonstrating a particular method’s applicability and use, although a trend toward case studies applying archaeological prospection techniques directly to test hypotheses of human behavior has increased since c. 2000. This is tempered by the fact that archaeological prospection is still largely the realm of geophysicists rather than archaeologists per se and that results are perhaps too frequently presented in geophysical rather than archaeological terms. High initial cost relative to traditional forms of archaeological survey plays a major role in determining whether prospection can be included in a project (Jordan 2009). Nevertheless, the results of archaeological prospection, in all its forms, are becoming “a primary data source from which to study the human past” (Conyers 2010: 119). Definition Remote sensing began as a collective description referring to both geophysical and imaging techniques. That usage continues (e.g., see papers in Johnson 2006a). With the introduction of Archaeological Prospection in 1994 as a peer-reviewed journal covering “the use of a wide range of prospecting techniques, including remote sensing (airborne and satellite), geophysical (e.g. resistivity, magnetometry) and geochemical (e.g. organic markers, soil phosphate)” (Archaeological Prospection 2011), archaeological prospection became the preferred collective term. Remote sensing explicitly refers to satellite and other forms of reflective imagery (e.g., infrared spectral analysis). As geophysical methods become familiar fixtures in the journal literature, they are named and recognized outright by the specific technique employed (e.g., groundpenetrating radar, cesium magnetometer, etc.). Prospection Methods in Archaeology Key Issues Archaeological Prospection Methods The four most widely applied techniques of geophysical prospection are ground-penetrating radar, electromagnetics, magnetics, and earth resistance (Conyers & Leckenbusch 2010: 117). Ground-Penetrating Radar Ground-penetrating radar (GPR) uses nondestructive electromagnetic waves to locate buried targets or interfaces (Daniels 2005: 1833). A GPR transmits a regular sequence of low-power packets of electromagnetic energy into the material or ground and receives and detects the weak reflected signal from the buried target. Under most conditions, ground-penetrating radar is capable of measurements up to a few meters deep. However, specially adapted systems operating in optimal circumstances can sometimes penetrate up to hundreds of meters. Unlike atmospheric radar, the signal from ground-penetrating radar is subject to being absorbed as it travels down and back through sediment layers. Although the method works well in some solids like granite and ice, it cannot be used effectively in clays with a high salt content, or even saltwater, because these materials drain the signal’s electromagnetic energy (Daniels 2005: 1833). Ground-penetrating radar is especially valuable in deeply buried and stratigraphically complex contexts because it can discriminate important layers and map only specific levels or horizons. This type of complex stratigraphic analysis is usually impossible using other geophysical techniques (Conyers 2010: 183). Results from ground-penetrating radar are compatible with data from more traditional archaeological methods. Such data lend themselves well to a quantitative and scientific approach for understanding the human past. Electromagnetics Electromagnetic surveys are a quick way to locate and map large earth features such as leveled mounds and refilled ditches. They work especially well where the surface soil is dry, hard, or rocky or where the vegetation is moderately Prospection Methods in Archaeology dense. As in all geophysical techniques, for electromagnetic surveys to be successful, it is necessary that the archaeological features sought are different enough from the surrounding terrain to register (Bevan 1983). Electromagnetic instruments use conductivity measures that quantify how materials react when exposed to an electromagnetic field (Bevan 1983; Conyers et al. 2008). The method can be used to explore a range of depths; however, with the instrument carried at about hip height, sensitivity to materials suspended in sediment layers is generally most accurate down to 1.5 m. Depending on field conditions, useful readings are possible from about 1.5 m to about 5 m and then decreases until it is no longer within the instrument’s depth range, about 5–6 m (Conyers et al. 2008). There have been claims that electromagnetic instruments can produce independent readings from multiple depths, but to date, these readings have not proved reliable in field tests (Conyers et al. 2008). Soil moisture, stratum thickness, geochemical variation, and changes in the amount of organic material present can all affect electromagnetic readings. Portability in the field and accuracy within its optimal parameters continue to make electromagnetics a favored geophysical method for archaeologists. In experienced hands, it is possible to obtain high-resolution electromagnetic survey data as fast as a person can walk in the field (Wynn 1986). Magnetics Magnetometry is one of the most productive and certainly one of the most often applied geophysical methods in archaeology. “(I)t is almost as if nature designed archaeological sites to be made visible by the magnetic variations they exhibit” (Kvamme 2003: 441). Primary among these magnetic variations are: Soil heated past the Curie temperature – the point at which magnetic materials undergo a sharp change in their magnetic properties (beginning at about 570 oC for the mineral magnetite). Hearths, earthen ovens, kilns, and structure fires can disrupt the spontaneous arrangement of elements in rocks, minerals, and sediments, replacing it with a more 6161 P general magnetic behavior. The resulting intensified magnetic field is restricted to the heated area. Magnetometry identifies this localized, burned zone. Archaeologists still must ascertain whether the heat source was natural or the result of human behavior. Fired artifacts, especially ceramics, adobe bricks, and fire-hardened daub, create an identifiably intense magnetic field in the same way as discussed above for natural materials. Magnetic susceptibility can also be a natural occurrence created by the inclusion of magnetizable materials in the composition of soils, sediments, rocks, etc. Long-term human occupations of an area can increase the magnetic readings of surface layers when compared to underlying natural layers. The same discard behaviors that help create the archaeological record also introduce fired materials (i.e., ceramics) into the upper soil layers of a site. Such magnetic readings can be a way of locating midden areas. Reverse processes that remove magnetically enhanced upper layers in identifiable patterns, digging ditches or pit houses, for example, provide equally valuable data for archaeologists to analyze. In the case of sites with coursed wall architecture that has become buried over time, magnetometry readings can identify building materials that are either more or less magnetic than the natural layers of overburden and surrounding sediments. And the process of smelting metal artifacts, as well as the metal artifacts themselves, produces identifiable anomalies in the surrounding natural layers. Magnetometry is most successful in locating identifiable anomalies in the first two meters of sediments or soils. However, larger objects (a stone building foundation as opposed to a ceramic sherd) emitting a stronger signal can be detected at lower depths. Magnetometry is “the work-horse of European archaeogeophysics” (Kvamme 2003: 441). Earth Resistance In an earth resistance survey, electrical current is emitted into the ground; as it radiates out in an P P 6162 even wave, any inclusions interrupting the relative uniformity of the sediment layer will alter the resistance to current patterns in measurable ways. Mapping these variations by stratum can help locate buried archaeological remains (Schmidt 2009: 67), although cultural features must still be separated from natural features using another means, like excavation. When electrical current travels through copper wiring, the charge is carried by freely moving electrons. Since these electrons are traveling in a closed circuit, they neither deplete nor accumulate – the electrons constantly flow through the circuit loop. However, electrical current traveling through natural soils is carried by ions, not electrons. These charged particles are created when salt crystals in the ground break down in the presence of water. Any obstacles to the movement of these ions in the ground that cause a weakening of the current are called the soil’s electrical resistively (Schmidt 2009: 68). Ultimately this electrical resistivity is a function of the amount of salts in the soil. There are some salts in all soils, which makes the method viable, but the concentration of salts (and therefore the conductivity/resistivity available to carry the current and be measured at the surface) varies by soil type. Moreover, electrical resistivity depends on the presence of water in the soil to dissolve the salt crystals and transport the residual ions (Schmidt 2009: 68). Resistivity decreases as water becomes ice or soils dry out in arid conditions. The presence and position of water in the soils depends on the size of sediment grains and the spaces between the grains. Water is needed to dissolve the salts into their constituent ions. Resistivity is the opposite of conductivity (see “Magnetics” above). Earth resistance methods are sensitive to subsurface contrasts caused by resistant natural rock formations and by resistant cultural formations like stone walls. They also can note less obvious variations in soil and sediment layers (Kvamme 2003: 441-2). Soil resistivity is measured through contact probes spaced from 0.25 to 2 m. The spacing between probes controls prospecting depth beneath the surface. When several depth settings are employed within the same area, three-dimensional data acquisition Prospection Methods in Archaeology and volumetric computer imaging are possible (Noel 1992; Szmanski & Tsourlos 1993; Walker 2000 – as cited in Kvamme 2003: 442). Magnetometry (conductivity) and earth resistance methods are popular in European archaeology. Metal Detectors The most controversial issue concerning geophysical technology for archaeological purposes is the use of metal detectors by interested amateurs, who are often well-intentioned, but sometimes not. In archaeology, the value of artifacts is based on the information they provide. The problem with metal detectors arises when they are used to pull artifacts from the past we hold in common to be sequestered in private collections or when the value of artifacts is based solely on the money they may bring in exchange. Metal detector use is a complex issue that involves property rights, antiquity statutes, and international laws. Great Britain has the most experience with interactions between research archaeologists, cultural resource managers, and metal detector enthusiasts. A 1995 survey by the Council for British Archaeology found that of the thousands of artifacts recovered by metal detector enthusiasts each year, only a fraction was reported to museums in England. Between 1988 and 1995, illicit metal detector use damaged some 188 archaeological sites that were protected by law (Hunt 2011), and three-quarters of the archaeological excavations in England had experienced “raids” by metal detector users (Hunt 2011). What appears to offer the most success in resolving this dilemma is a training program that gives interested enthusiasts a way of contributing to the greater body of archaeological research as avocational archaeologists. They agree to follow a code of conduct in return. It is not a perfect system – ethical questions still exist about “whether it is right to amass personal collections of material inaccessible to more detailed research, or to sell such collections on the open market” (Hunt 2011). There are also concerns that the payment of rewards for “treasure” finds sends the wrong message. Including a place at the table for trained avocational archaeologists may Prospection Methods in Archaeology help abate at least one of the modern threats to the archaeological record. Satellite Imagery Satellite imagery is the latest incarnation of aerial photography, which is reputed to have started with Gaspard-Félix Tournachon, a French photographer, who took pictures of Paris from a balloon in 1858. By World War I, aerial photography was being used by the military to map battlefields and to gather information. Space-based images of our Earth also began with military applications and as a means of information gathering – in this case highly classified information gathering for intelligence agencies. As the existence of satellite images became more widely known, and as their availability became less exclusive, applications widened to include tracking global weather patterns, tectonic activity, surface vegetation, ocean currents and temperatures, polar ice fluctuations, pollution, and eventually archaeology during the concluding decades of the twentieth century. Archaeologists are still finding new ways to use the full range of analytical tools available for assessing satellite image data of the earth’s surface and subsurface (Parcak & Mumford 2011). Decreasing costs, increasing image resolution, and on-line Internet availability are speeding this process along. Satellites collect images from hundreds of miles above the Earth’s surface. The altitude from which an image is taken, and the physical characteristics of the sensor used, determine the amount and the type of detail available from a satellite image (United States Geological Survey [USGS] 2011). For example, color-infrared images record energy from portions of the electromagnetic spectrum not visible to the human eye. Near-infrared light reflected from the recorded scene appears as red, red appears as green, green as blue, and blue as black. As a result, color-infrared can differentiate between types of vegetation and bodies of water (United States Geological Survey [USGS] 2011). Importantly for archaeologists, it can also penetrate the atmospheric haze that has become a defining characteristic of modern urban areas. 6163 P Much of the credit for first recognizing the potential of multispectral imagery in archaeology goes to George Gumerman and Theodore Lyons (Parcak 2009). Their 1971 paper Archaeological Methodology and Remote Sensing (Science 172 [3979]: 126-132) moved the state of the art beyond identification and simple interpretation to the types of pattern recognition that are the basis for what has come to be called satellite archaeology (Parcak 2009). Even at an early date in the use of enhanced imagery, Gumerman and Lyons noted what has become axiomatic today: each archaeological site will have its own spectral properties, and, therefore, archaeological prospecting can rely on no single imagery format (Parcak 2009). In 1972, one year after Gumerman and Lyons’ groundbreaking publication, the United States launched its first Earth Resources Technology Satellite, ERTS-1, later renamed Landsat 1 (United States Geological Survey [USGS] 2011). The Landsat series gathered data from sensors measuring a range of wavelengths of electromagnetic energy reflected or emitted from earth – and demonstrated the actual potential satellite imagery holds for archaeology. Landsats 1–5 carried the multispectral scanner (MSS) sensor with a resolution of about 80 m (260 ft). In 1984, the year NASA launched Landsat 5, the United States Congress directed the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) to find a commercial vendor for its Landsat 6 project. That satellite, developed by the Earth Observation Satellite Company (EOSAT) under a U.S. Commerce Department contract, failed at launch in 1993 (National Aeronautics and Space Administration [NASA] 2011a: NOAA press release 95-13). The launch program returned to NASA, and Landsat 7 successfully lifted off in 1999. The last of the series, Landsat 7, carried the Enhanced Thematic Mapper Plus sensor that replicated the capabilities of the successful Thematic Mapper instruments on Landsats 4 and 5, and included features for global change studies, land cover monitoring, and mapping larger areas than its predecessors (National Aeronautics and Space Administration [NASA] 2011b). P P 6164 As this is written, “(t)he evolution of satellite image technology is. . .enabling the manipulation of a greater range of data contained in increasing types of satellite images (e.g., Aster; Corona; Landsat TM, etc.): archaeologists can now examine a broad spectrum of reflectivity signatures and bands within and between archaeological sites, including both surface and sub-surface features” (Parcak & Mumford 2011). For example, combining multiple analytical techniques to detect the vegetation signatures within a satellite image of the El-Markha Plain on the Sinai Peninsula of the Middle East made it possible to identify and isolate water sources within the overall arid environment of Sinai, which in turn revealed potential archaeological sites for surface assessment (Parcak & Mumford 2011). Multispectral satellite data have also allowed archaeologists to model dynamic landscape processes in the Mediterranean Basin (Barton 2004) as well as define survey areas in Spain and statistically eliminate areas of erosion from the survey area (Barton et al. 2002, 2004). Tools and datasets like Blue Marble from the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) (see http://sos.noaa. and gov/datasets/Land/bluemarble.html) the multiple platforms of Google EarthTM (see http://www.google.com/earth/index.html) have helped to demystify satellite imagery for non-specialists. Light Detection and Ranging Light detection and ranging (LiDAR) represents something of a return to the aerial photography origins of remote sensing – with important differences. LiDAR scans the land surface from an airplane or helicopter with a high-frequency pulsed laser beam. By timing the laser signal from transmitter to receiver, LiDAR can determine distance and thus take rapid measures of surface elevation. When combined with Global Positioning System (GPS) coordinates and an inertial navigation system (INS) to account for airplane movement and hold the airborne transmitter constant, LiDAR readings produce highresolution digital elevation models (DEMs; see Prospection Methods in Archaeology geographic information systems [GIS]) of the landscape below (Hesse 2010). What sets LiDAR apart is that its laser signal can be filtered to record only the last return pulse of the laser beam, making it possible to create DEMs of the landscape underneath a rainforest canopy of vegetation (Hesse 2010; Chase et al. 2011). LiDARderived data accurately portray not only the topography of the landscape but also structures, causeways, and agricultural terraces with a low relief of 5–30 cm (Chase et al. 2011: 387). Largescale mapping projects in archaeology have always been costly and time-consuming when using traditional methods. This is especially true in off-the-beaten-track locations and rugged terrain where the modern world has tended to leave viable archaeological sites undestroyed if only rarely untouched. In such conditions, swath mapping with LiDAR (overlapping flight paths that can be integrated together) is a powerful and costeffective tool. International Perspectives Although geophysical and satellite imagery as methods of archaeological prospection are used nearly everywhere in the world where archaeology is a recognized discipline, not all working archaeologists have a positive view of such means. Nor should archaeologists be expected to hold generally uniform views. The modern practice of archaeology lies at the nexus of the social, natural, and physical sciences – with archaeologists varying the degree of emphasis in their approach between the three. Philosophical and operational tensions in the sciences are often beneficial. Thomas Kuhn, the historian of science who introduced the concept of “paradigm” into post-1960s discussions of science (Kuhn 1962/1970), considered such friction to be the essential tension (see essays in Kuhn 1977) that led to scientific accomplishment and greater understanding of the world around us. Reservations about technological prospection in archaeology include the expensive cost of the instruments and software necessary to collect and Prospection Methods in Archaeology process data; the additional training demands and access to that training, both of which can restrict availability in some cases; and a less than full understanding of the conditions under which the various instruments are likely to produce useful results (Johnson & Haley 2006: 35). Opinions vary as to whether we always apply the most applicable methods for each set of circumstances or whether we tend to rely on the methods we know. Archaeologists understand that geophysical and remote sensing are part of the hard work of gathering data and learning what the data may tell us about the human career. Our level of understanding may not always keep pace with the technology we are able to produce, and archaeologists constantly remind themselves that while new methodology often helps us to see in more detail, actual understanding remains grounded in our traditional commitment to hard work. Archaeology is deeply rooted in a profound respect for the men and women who created the past that has made our moment possible. It is natural for observers interested in archaeology to wonder whether what may seem like a sudden burst of emphasis on remote sensing could be adding to a sense of remoteness from the humanness of the people who lived the past. “Spectacular images. . . may convey the impression that most ‘good’ geophysical surveys. . . leave little to the imagination. . .. In fact, wellexecuted surveys often yield useful results that are not immediately interpretable by many archaeologists” (Hargrave 2006: 269). Data fusion (Kvamme 2006; Ernenwein 2009) is one of the most important concepts to develop from our growing body of experience with geophysical methods. Data fusion integrates the outcomes of multiple geophysical methods in one study area and applies their combined potential toward an improved understanding of the subsurface. As noted above, each individual survey method comes with its own strength and weaknesses. Integrating information from a number of methods allows the strength of one method (or methods) to compensate for any shortcomings in another. Integrated data can show the relationships between conductive, resistant, magnetic, 6165 P and thermal noted subsurface anomalies and use this multiple recognition to enhance overall interpretations (Kvamme 2006: 15). Excavating offers archaeologists a tactile perception of the artifacts in an assemblage. Data fusion offers a roughly similar multisensory insight into an entire subsurface region while including and preserving the surrounding context that we lose in excavation. It is an iterative process. The more often research programs include data fusion, the better at it we become. Integration can yield an end understanding beyond the capability of any discrete method alone (Kvamme 2006: 15). Applying multiple methods of data gathering also results in a broader array of data presentation – some of which are more visual and some more quantitatively interpretive or predictive. All of which, when fused together, offer a more complete understanding of the archaeological record without altering or destroying any irreplaceable part of that record. Among the great challenges of archaeology, as usually practiced, is the pressure to get everything right the first time. Excavation is the bestknown and most frequently employed means of gathering archaeological data. Archaeological excavation, digging, destroys the context that helps confer meaning to artifacts as it proceeds. “(T)he value of archaeogeophysical methodology with its inherently nondestructive nature speaks for itself. Researchers. . . now have the potential to recover detailed archaeological information from sites – small and large – without destroying them” (Lockhart & Green 2006: 29). Archaeological prospection offers a way to assess the information value of subsurface material and factor it into a decision of whether or not to dig. We can make informed choices to leave non-threatened archaeological material in the ground and reserve it for future archaeologists whose methodology, presumably, will be even better than ours. Cultural resource managers can potentially use geophysical methods to mitigate the presence or absence of subsurface archaeological material for entire swaths of the right-ofway for pipelines, roadbeds, etc., as opposed to relying on surface surveys with test pits or P P 6166 backhoe trenches to sample the subsurface strata, although it must be noted that the effectiveness of geophysical methods in archaeology has not yet been “fully acknowledged in the laws, regulations, and standards that guide cultural resource management practices and excavation strategies” (Lockhart & Green 2006: 17). Prospection Methods in Archaeology Cross-References ▶ Aerial and Satellite Remote Sensing in Archaeology ▶ Metal Detecting in Archaeology ▶ Nondestructive Subsurface Mapping in Field Archaeology ▶ Surface Survey: Method and Strategies Future Directions References The equipment used in geophysical applications was not developed with archaeology in mind. The satellites gathering multispectral imagery of earth were not funded by archaeology, nor were they launched at the request of archaeologists. As is vital for a constantly evolving discipline at the nexus of the social, natural, and physical sciences, archaeologists are adept at making use of the tools available. It seems reasonable that future developments are more likely to come in the form of increasingly sophisticated dataanalysis techniques than in the data gathering equipment we have borrowed from other fields. Hopefully, the staged iteration wherein remote sensing results guide excavation results and excavation results help to refine the remote sensing (Johnson 2006b: 316) will increase in pace. It is a near certainty that the pace of construction development will continue to impact the archaeological record; the questions we ask of the past will increase in complexity as we continue to look for ways of “treating the world as if we intended to stay” (Gray et al. 1993: 280); and the funding dedicated to archaeological research will continue to vary in amount and priority as a function of economic considerations in the immediate present. All of which make developing effective and efficient methods of archaeological discovery, definition, and analysis increasingly imperative (National Park Service – National Center for Preservation Technology and Training [NPS NCPTT] 2007). In this context, the time and energy archaeologists are devoting to geophysical and imagery-based methods of archaeological prospection seem more well spent all the time. ARCHAEOLOGICAL PROSPECTION. 2011. Overview. Available at: http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/journal/10.1002/% 28ISSN%291099-0763 (accessed 16 July 2011). BARTON, C.M. 2004. Mediterranean landscape dynamics: land use and landscape socioecology in the Mediterranean Basin. A laboratory for the study of the long-term interaction of human and natural systems. Available at: http://www.asu.edu/clas/shesc/projects/medland/ (accessed 16 July 2011). BARTON, C.M., J. BERNABEU, J.E. AURA, O. GARCÍA, L. MOLINA & S. SCHMICH. 2004. Historical contingency, nonlinearity, and the neolithization of the western Mediterranean, in L. Wandsnider & E. Athanassopoulos (ed.) Current issues in Mediterranean landscape archaeology: 99-124. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. BARTON, C.M., J. BERNABEU, J.E. AURA, O. GARCÍA & N. La Roca. 2002. Dynamic landscapes, artifact taphonomy, and land use modeling in the western Mediterranean. Geoarchaeology 17: 155-90. BEVAN, B.W. 1983. Electromagnetics for mapping buried earth features. Journal of Field Archaeology 10: 47-54. CHASE, A.F., D.Z. CHASE, J.F. WEISHAMPEL, J.B. DRAKE, R.L. SHRESTHA, K.C. SLATTON, J.J. AWE & W.E. CARTER. 2011. Airborne LiDAR, archaeology, and the ancient Maya landscape at Caracol, Belize. Journal of Archaeological Science 38: 387-98. CONYERS, L.B. 2010. Ground-penetrating radar for anthropological research. Antiquity 84: 175-84. CONYERS, L.B. & J. LECKEBUSCH. 2010. Geophysical archaeology research agendas for the future: some ground-penetrating radar examples. Archaeological Prospection 17: 117-23. CONYERS, L.B., E.G. ERNENWEIN, M. GREALY & K.M. LOWE. 2008. Electromagnetic conductivity mapping for site prediction in meandering river floodplains. Archaeological Prospection 15: 81-91. DANIELS, D.J. 2005. Ground penetrating radar, in K. Chang (ed.) Encyclopedia of RF and microwave engineering: 1833-46. New Jersey: John Wiley & Sons. ERNENWEIN, E.G. 2009. Integration of multidimensional archaeogeophysical data using supervised and unsupervised classification. Near Surface Geophysics 7: 147-58. Proton-Induced X-Ray Emission Spectroscopy (PIXE): Applications in Archaeology GRAY, R, J. BEBBINGTON & D. WALTERS. 1993. Accounting for the environment. New York: M. Wiener Publishers. HARGRAVE, M.L. 2006. Ground truthing the results of geophysical surveys, in J.K. Johnson (ed.) Remote sensing in archaeology: an explicitly North American perspective: 269-304. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. HESSE, R. 2010. LiDAR-derived local relief models – a new tool for archaeological prospection. Archaeological Prospection 17: 67-72. HUNT, A. 2011. Archaeology and metal detecting. Available at: http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ ancient/archaeology/metal_detect_01.shtml (accessed 16 July 2011). JOHNSON, J.K. (ed.) 2006a. Remote sensing in archaeology: an explicitly North American perspective. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. JOHNSON, J.K. 2006b. A comparative guide to applications, in J.K. Johnson (ed.) Remote sensing in archaeology: an explicitly North American perspective: 305-19. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. JOHNSON, J.K. & B.S. HALEY. 2006. A cost-benefit analysis of remote sensing application in cultural resource management archaeology, in J.K. Johnson, M. Giardano & K. Kvamme (ed.) Remote sensing in archaeology: an explicitly North American perspective: 33-45. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. JORDAN, D. 2009. How effective is geophysical survey? A regional review. Archaeological Prospection 16: 77-90. KUHN, T.S. 1962/1970. The structure of scientific revolutions. Originally published as an entry in the International encyclopedia of unified science, Volume II, 2. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. - 1977. The essential tension: selected studies in scientific tradition and change. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. KVAMME, K.L. 2003. Geophysical surveys as landscape archaeology. American Antiquity 68: 435-57. - 2006. Integrating multidimensional geophysical data. Archaeological Prospection 13: 57-72. LOCKHART, J.J. & T.J. GREEN. 2006. The current and potential role of archaeogeophysics in cultural resource management in the United States, in J.K. Johnson, M. Giardano & K. Kvamme (ed.) Remote sensing in archaeology: an explicitly North American perspective: 17-32. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. NATIONAL AERONAUTICS AND SPACE ADMINISTRATION (NASA). 2011a. NOAA press release 95-13: Landsat 6 failure attributed to ruptured manifold. Available at: http://landsat.gsfc.nasa.gov/about/landsat6.html (accessed 13 July 2011). - 2011b. Landsat 7. Available at: http://landsat.gsfc.nasa. gov/about/landsat7.html (accessed 13 July 2011). NATIONAL PARK SERVICE - NATIONAL CENTER FOR PRESERVATION TECHNOLOGY AND TRAINING (NPS NCPTT). 2007. Advancing remote sensing technologies in the discovery, analysis, and preservation of cultural resources. Abstract. Symposium presented at the 72nd Annual 6167 P Meeting of the Society for American Archaeology. Austin, Texas. 25-29 April 2007. PARCAK, S.H. 2009. Satellite remote sensing for archaeology. London: Routledge. PARCAK, S.H & G. MUMFORD. 2011. Satellite image interpretation. Available at: http://www.deltasinai.com/ image-00.htm (accessed 11 July 2011); see also: http://ccrs.nrcan.gc.ca/resource/tutor/fundam/index_ e.php (accessed 11 July 2011). PYNE, S.J. 1988. Space: a third great age of discovery. Space Policy 4: 187-99. - 1998. The ice: a journey to Antarctica. Originally published 1986. Iowa City: University of Iowa Press. Seattle & London: University of Washington Press. SCHMIDT, A. 2009. Electrical and magnetic methods in archaeological prospection, in S. Campana & S. Piro (ed.) Seeing the unseen. Geophysics and landscape archaeology: 67-81. London: Taylor & Francis Group. UNITED STATES GEOLOGICAL SURVEY (USGS). 2011. Aerial photographs and satellite images. Available at: http:// egsc.usgs.gov/isb/pubs/booklets/aerial/aerial.html (accessed 13 July 2011). WYNN, J.C. 1986. A review of geophysical methods used in archaeology. Geoarchaeology 1: 245-57. Proton-Induced X-Ray Emission Spectroscopy (PIXE): Applications in Archaeology Rachel S. Popelka-Filcoff School of Chemical and Physical Sciences, Flinders University, Adelaide, SA, Australia Introduction With the advent of nuclear-based analytical methods in the last 40 years, particle-induced X-ray emission (PIXE) has established a role in the elemental analysis of archaeological material and cultural heritage. PIXE is a technique with a diverse array of applications in biology, geology, materials science, and others and has found valuable wide-ranging applications in archaeology and cultural heritage research. Such applications for archaeology and museum work generally fall into the categories of compositional analysis, provenance, understanding surface treatments and changes, and conservation and restoration. P P 6168 Proton-Induced X-Ray Emission Spectroscopy (PIXE): Applications in Archaeology Definition Rutherford backscattering (RBS). As compared to XRF, PIXE generally has a higher rate of data collection and less background spectral effects, due to lower bremsstrahlung interactions and Rayleigh and Compton scattering. The technique is regarded to have high precision and reproducibility. PIXE often has relatively quick analysis times on the order of minutes (Taylor et al. 1994; Johansson et al. 1995). The general definition of PIXE is “particleinduced X-ray emission” although this is often synonymous with “proton-induced X-ray emission,” which is a specific type of PIXE. Charged particles typically used in PIXE include both protons (p) and a-particles (He+2). Protons are produced in particle accelerators such as Van de Graff instruments; a-particles are produced by radioactive sources (Johansson & Campbell 1988). Most laboratories use an accelerator to create a beam of high-energy (1–4 MeV) particles. The sample is bombarded by a beam of these particles, resulting in ejection of inner-shell electrons in the sample, followed by the de-excitation of the ion. Electron rearrangements then occur within the atom to fill the resulting vacancies, resulting in emitted X-rays and Auger electrons. The emitted X-rays have specific energies particular to energy transitions in a specific element; the number of X-rays emitted is proportional to the original concentration of the element in the sample. Detection and energy sorting of the X-rays is primarily done using energy dispersive systems with semiconductor detectors and multichannel analyzers (MCAs) (Ehmann & Vance 1991). Some advantages of PIXE for art and archaeology include its nondestructive analysis capabilities with appropriate experimental setup and simultaneous elemental analysis. Elemental characterization of samples provides data for interpretation on artifact composition, technology, and origins. The technique has high sensitivity (1–10 ppm) for elements with atomic numbers in the ranges 11 < Z < 32 and 75 < Z < 85 (Johansson & Campbell 1988). In addition to trace analysis, PIXE is also capable of measuring major elements in the sample (up to percent levels). PIXE is a near-surface analytical method that analyzes the first 1–10 mm of a sample, which makes it ideal for analysis of thin layers of pigments or other surface treatments on artifacts. Depending on the experimental setup, it is also possible to collect data on depth profiling of elements in the sample using a related method, Historical Background PIXE was first developed in the 1970s. Over the next decades, the technique developed along with accelerator facility and electronics technology and is now a mature radioanalytical method with applications in many fields. Sample types in the early uses of the technique included ceramics and metals and have since expanded into varied artifact types such as glasses and pigments. Many standard PIXE systems produce a beam of around 1 mm diameter. Some modern systems now have the capability of micro-PIXE through beams 1 mm in diameter, which allows for spatial resolution analysis over small areas by rastering the beam over the sample. Micro-PIXE may also be used to analyze single spot areas or crystals in a sample. Most facilities perform PIXE under vacuum; therefore, the sample must fit in the dimensions of the vacuum chamber. However, extraction of the beam from the accelerator allows in-atmosphere PIXE analysis, which is advantageous for samples that cannot be placed under vacuum. Several facilities routinely perform PIXE. The major laboratories in this area are AGLAE in the (Louvre, Paris, France), University of Guelph, (Guelph, Canada), the STAR accelerator facility at ANSTO (Australian Nuclear Science and Technology Organisation, Lucas Heights, Australia), as well as others worldwide. Of these, AGLAE in France is the only facility dedicated to analysis of cultural heritage materials (Calligaro et al. 2003; Dran et al. 2004). Recently, the PIXE technology has been adapted to portable technology (Pappalardo et al. 1996, 2003). This technology uses Proton-Induced X-Ray Emission Spectroscopy (PIXE): Applications in Archaeology radioactive sources to irradiate the sample with alpha particles, and Peltier-cooled detectors. These systems allow the instrument to travel to the sample, which is advantageous where an archaeological object may not be able to travel to a laboratory due to size or fragility or other restrictions. Key Issues Current Applications Within the area of archaeological and cultural heritage applications, several classes of material have had successful PIXE analysis and data interpretation. These include metals, obsidian, pigments, paintings, glass, ceramics, and other inorganic materials. Ceramics are one of the first archaeological materials investigated by PIXE and have since expanded into archaeometric studies and applications worldwide. Some of the initial studies focused on bulk composition of ceramics and provenance studies. While provenance studies are still an important application of PIXE, some current papers are focusing more on surface applications and micro-PIXE of ceramic surfaces. An example of this is a recent paper by Polvorinos et al. that explores the application of PIXE to understanding fourteenth- to eighteenthcentury luster glazes on Spanish ceramics including analysis of ceramic surfaces (Polvorinos et al. 2011). PIXE has been applied to many types of archaeological metals, with coins and metal implements being the most common. There are many examples of compositional analysis of coins from many parts of the world and from many archaeological and historical periods. A recent article by Ben Abdelouahed et al. demonstrates the types of studies, analytical capabilities, and statistical analysis for coin analysis by PIXE (Abdelouahed et al. 2010). Due to its near-surface capabilities, PIXE has been used widely in paint and pigment analysis. Neelmeijer et al. describe a combination XRF and PIXE methodology for studying the paint layers in modern sample as a case study for 6169 P artworks. The authors use both methods for elemental analysis and depth profiling of the paint layers (Neelmeijer et al. 2000). PIXE analysis in this case offers valuable information on depth profiling by variation of the incident energy of the particle beam. Another recent study on pigment investigated the chemical composition of prehistoric pigments from Abri Pataud, France. The authors cite the nondestructive capabilities of PIXE as valuable for this application to rare prehistoric objects (Beck et al. 2011). PIXE has also been applied to the characterization of archaeological obsidian objects. Composed of volcanic glass, obsidian can be characterized by its trace elemental signature, which reflects the material’s origins. Other techniques such as NAA (neutron activation analysis) provide similar elements; however, the technique is usually destructive to the object as a sample must be cut from the original object. In contrast, PIXE can provide elemental data in a nondestructive method to the artifact. PIXE has been successfully used by Gazzola et al. to identify the original sources of obsidian found in Teotihuacan through elemental data and statistical interpretation (Gazzola et al. 2010). Berlot-Gurlet et al. provide a comprehensive comparison between PIXE, ICP-AES, and ICP-MS for the characterization of obsidian artifacts in a case study (Bellot-Gurlet et al. 2005). A related application of PIXE to glass materials includes the analysis of archaeological and historical glasses. Elemental analysis by PIXE can be used to determine the major composition and therefore the original recipe of the glass. Trace elemental analysis can also be used to determine the provenance of the material. Calligaro presents a case study of archaeological and historical glasses, as well as the use of PIXE to study the surface modifications on glass (Calligaro 2008). Recent advents in micro-PIXE have allowed insights into archaeological materials on much smaller scales than previously achieved by broader-beam PIXE instruments. While the technique allows higher spatial resolution, the time per analysis is longer due to the smaller beam size. Recent updates in technology have allowed P P 6170 Proton-Induced X-Ray Emission Spectroscopy (PIXE): Applications in Archaeology micro-PIXE for use in extracted-beam setups as well. Torkiha et al. describe a laboratory setup of external micro-PIXE and its use on archaeological ceramics (Torkiha et al. 2010). The AGLAE facility at the Louvre routinely uses micro-PIXE for object analysis. In the past decade, a group in Catania, Italy, has been developing a series of portable PIXE instruments based on polonium-210 radioactive sources for alpha particles. These instruments have been demonstrated on ceramics, coins, statuary, and other applications (Pappalardo et al. 2003; Rizzo et al. 2011). The portable capabilities of these instruments allow analysis of objects as well as frescoes and other materials that cannot travel. Future Directions Future developments include advances in instrumentation and electronics. Micro-PIXE analysis allows analysis on small scales previously not achievable with larger beam diameters and the possibility of elemental “mapping” of an object surface. Coupled with external beam facilities, this instrumentation allows microanalysis of objects without vacuum conditions, allowing analysis of objects of varied sizes and composition. PIXE in combination with Rutherford backscattering analysis (RBS) also offers information on the structure of the sample. Faster and more compact electronics and detectors as well as alpha-source technology have allowed the expansion of portable PIXE technologies. Developments in this area will make portable PIXE instruments more widely available for archaeological and cultural heritage applications. Cross-References ▶ Archaeological Chemistry: Definition ▶ Ceramics: Scientific Analysis ▶ Pigment Analysis in Archaeology ▶ X-Ray Fluorescence (XRF): Applications in Archaeology References ABDELOUAHED, H.B., F. GHARBI, M. ROUMIÈ, S. BACCOUCHE, K. BEN ROMDHANE, B. NSOULI & A. BTRABELSI. 2010. PIXE analysis of medieval silver coins. Materials Characterization 61: 59-64. BECK, L., M. LEBON, L. PICHON, M. MENU, L. CHIOTTI, R. NESPOULET & P. PAILLET. 2011. PIXE characterisation of prehistoric pigments from Abri Pataud (Dordogne, France). X-Ray Spectrometry 40: 219-23. BELLOT-GURLET, L., G. POUPEAU, J. SALOMON, T. CALLIGARO, B. MOIGNARD, J.-C. DRAN, J.-A BARRAT & L. PICHON. 2005. Obsidian provenance studies in archaeology: a comparison between PIXE, ICP-AES and ICP-MS. Nuclear Instruments and Methods in Physics Research B 240: 583-8. CALLIGARO, T. 2008. PIXE in the study of archaeological and historical glass. X-Ray Spectrometry 37: 169-77. CALLIGARO, T., J.C. DRAN & M. KLEIN. 2003. Application of photo-detection to art and archaeology at the C2RMF. Nuclear Instruments and Methods in Physics Research A 504: 213-21. DRAN, J.-C., J. SALOMON, T. CALLIGARO & P. WALTER. 2004. Ion beam analysis of art works: 14 years of use in the Louvre. Nuclear Instruments and Methods in Physics Research B 219-220: 7-15. EHMANN, W.D. & D.E. VANCE. 1991. Radiochemistry and nuclear methods of analysis. New York: John Wiley & Sons Inc. GAZZOLA, J., M.S. DEL RÍO, C. SOLÍS & T. CALLIGARO. 2010. Particle-induced X-ray emission (PIXE) analysis of obsidian from Teotihuacan. Archaeometry 52: 343-54. JOHANSSON, S.A.E. & J.L. CAMPBELL. 1988. PIXE: a novel technique for elemental analysis. Chichester: John Wiley and Sons. JOHANSSON, S.A.E., J.L. CAMPBELL & K.G. MALMQVIST. (ed.) 1995. Particle-induced X-ray emission spectrometry (PIXE). New York: John Wiley and Sons Inc. NEELMEIJER, C., I. BRISSAUD, T. CALLIGARO, G. DEMORTIER, A. HAUTOJARVI, M. MADER, L. MARTINOT, M.SCHREINER, T. TUURNALA & G. WEBER. 2000. Paintings a challenge for XRF and PIXE analysis. X-Ray Spectrometry 29: 101-10. PAPPALARDO, G., J. DE SANOIT, A. MUSUMARRA, G. CALVI & C. MARCHETTA. 1996. Feasibility study of a portable PIXE system using a 210Po alpha source. Nuclear Instruments & Methods in Physics Research, Section B: Beam Interactions with Materials and Atoms 109/110: 214-7. PAPPALARDO, L., F.P. ROMANO, S. GARRAFFO, J. DE SANOIT, C. MARCHETTA & G. PAPPALARDO. 2003. The improved LNS PIXE-alpha portable system: archaeometric applications. Archaeometry 45: 333-9. POLVORINOS, A., M. AUCOUTURIER, A. BOUQUILLON, J. CASTAING & J. CAMPS. 2011. The evolution of lustre ceramics from Manises (Valencia, Spain), between the 14th and 18th centuries. Archaeometry 53: 490-509. RIZZO, F., G.P. CIRRONE, G. CUTTONE, A. ESPOSITO, S. GARRAFFO, G. PAPPALARDO, L. PAPPALARDO, Prous, André F.P. ROMANO & S. RUSSO. 2011. Non-destructive determination of the silver content in Roman coins (nummi), dated to 308-311 A.D., by the combined use of PIXE-alpha, XRF and DPAA techniques. Microchemical Journal 97: 286-90. TAYLOR, L., R.B. PAPP & B.D. POLLARD. 1994. Instrumental methods for determining elements. New York: VCH. TORKIHA, M., M. LAMEHI-RACHTI, O.R. KAKUEE & V. FATHOLLAHI. 2010. An external sub-milliprobe optimized for PIXE analysis of archaeological samples. Nuclear Instruments and Methods in Physics Research B 268: 1522. Prous, André Adriana Schmidt Dias Department of History, Universidade Federal do Rio Grande do Sul, Porto Alegre, Rio Grande do Sul (RS), Brazil Basic Biographical Information Born in France in 1944 and living in Brazil since 1971, the professional performance of André Prous is intertwined with the history of academic archaeology in Brazil. With a B.A. and M.A. in History from the University of Poitiers, he started his Ph.D. in prehistory in 1967 at the University of Paris I (Pantheon-Sorbonne), participating in field activities coordinated by Leroi-Gourhan and attending seminars on American settlements by his mentor Annette Laming Emperaire at the Ecole Pratique des Hautes Études. His academic career in 1960s Paris was marked by the exchange with a first generation of Brazilian students seeking training in archaeology abroad and whom later became part of the professional staff of the leading universities in Brazil. Through a technical cooperation agreement between France and Brazil, André Prous was hired in 1971 by the University of São Paulo to teach Prehistoric Archaeology in Department of History. That same year also began his first field activities in Brazil as part of the Franco-Brazilian Mission at Lagoa Santa (Minas Gerais State), coordinated by Annette Laming Emperaire. 6171 P They excavated the site Lapa Vermelha IV until 1977 which featured buried rock panels, human burials, and datings around 9,000 years, indicating the high potential that studies of rock art in this new region could provide. In 1975, facing the possibility of returning to France to work in a center for archaeological research that was being assembled in Valbonne, Prous chose to settle down permanently in Brazil at the invitation of the Federal University of Minas Gerais, where in 1976 he founded the Archaeology Division in the Natural History Museum where he still lectures, as a full professor in the Department of Anthropology. His professional activities at this University influenced the constitution of a new generation of Brazilian researchers, especially his studies of rock art and ceramic and lithic technology, emphasizing the practice of experimental archaeology, analysis of chaı̂ne opératoire, and functional studies. Since 1981 Prous started coordinating the Franco-Brazilian Mission in Minas Gerais and has since conducted extensive archaeological survey projects in different regional contexts of Minas Gerais State such as the Serra do Cipó and regions of the upper and middle São Francisco River, the Doce River valley, and the upper Jequitinhonha River, resulting in the identification of hundreds of sites with rock art dating back to the early Holocene. Major Accomplishments Interested in the meanings of the stylistic variations of Brazilian prehistoric art, André Prous developed his Ph.D. thesis, submitted in 1974, on the zoomorphic sculptures associated to funerary contexts at the southern Brazilian coast (sambaquis), conducting extensive surveys in institutional and private collections. The results of this research are published in Les sculptures zoomorphes du Brésil et de l’Uruguay (1977). From the stylistic comparison of sculpted art, he demonstrated the existence of regional variations also reflected in the lithic and bone industries, contributing to discussions on territoriality and the emergence of complex P P 6172 social contexts for hunter-gatherers specialized in the exploitation of coastal resources dating from 5,000 to 2,000 years BP. Studies by André Prous about the variety, complexity, and abundance of rock art in Minas Gerais State have shown that regional theme variation correlates with regional sequences of human occupation, providing methodological support for the establishment of complex chrono-stylistic sequences for the region. Comparisons between Brazilian regional rock art styles are among the main contributions of Prous, being its results systematized in the book Brasil Rupestre (2007). Also a noteworthy contribution is his Arqueologia Brasileira (1992), the first attempt to synthesize the Brazilian prehistory, taking as reference the contemporary research in the country conducted by different teams. Currently, André Prous has focused his interests on prehistoric art to the iconographic study of the Tupi pottery, contributing to the theoretical and methodological development and innovation in this field in Brazil. Cross-References ▶ Archaeology of Art: Theoretical Frameworks ▶ South American Rock Art ▶ Style: Its Role in the Archaeology of Art References JORGE, M., A. PROUS & L. RIBEIRO. 2007. Brasil Rupestre: arte pré-histórica Brasileira. Curitiba: Zencrane Livros. PROUS, A. 1977. Les sculptures zoomorphes du sud Brésilien et de l’Uruguay. Cahiers d’Archaeologie d’Amerique du Sud 5: 1-177. PROUS, A. 1992. Arqueologia Brasileira. Brası́lia: Editora da UNB. Further Reading PROUS, A. 1994. L’art rupestre du Brésil. Bulletin de la Société Préhistorique de l’Ariège 49: 77-144. - 2005. Stylistic units in prehistoric art research: archaeofacts or realities? in P.P. Funari, A. Zarankin & E. Stovel (ed.) Global archaeological theory: contextual voices and contemporary thoughts: 283-296. New York: Springer. PROUS, A. 2007. Arte pré-histórica do Brasil. Belo Horizonte: Editora Com Arte. Provenance Studies in Archaeology - 2010. A pintura na cerâmica Tupiguarani, in A. Prous & T.A. Lima (ed.) Os ceramistas Tupiguarani, Volume 2: 113-215. Belo Horizonte: IPHAN. RIBEIRO, L. & A. PROUS. 2009. Rock art research in Brazil, 2000-2004: a critical evaluation, in P. Bahn, N. Franklin & M. Strecker (ed.) Rock art studies: news of the world III: 294-308. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Provenance Studies in Archaeology Charles C. Kolb Division of Preservation and Access, National Endowment for the Humanities, Washington, DC, USA Introduction A primary objective in the study of ancient artifacts is to discern where they were produced. When archaeologists, other scientists, students, the public, or children inquire about an object – “Where is it from?” – there are, of course, two answers. One is the place or location at which the object was found or discovered, for example, the context of its finding, and second, a more difficult question, what is the source of the object. The latter entails a diagnosis of the origin of the materials that comprise the object, the location or site where it was produced or fabricated, who made it, and why and for what purposes. A related set of questions, often with complex answers, is how the object was relocated from its place of origin to location at which it was recovered. In archaeology, these questions apply as much to the composition of a pottery vessel as they do to a lithic tool or stone ornament but also to glass, metals, and textiles as other major artifact classes. To answer these questions, investigators employ tools and techniques borrowed from geology and geochemistry, particularly petrography, physicochemical studies, and stable isotope analyses. A majority of archaeological sourcing studies are devoted to earthenware ceramics, pottery, porcelain, and related objects made from clay as well as stone or lithic materials, notably obsidian, marble, chert, flint, and steatite. Provenance Studies in Archaeology Notable achievements have been made in the analysis of glazes and glass, but there has been limited success in sourcing of other materials such as metals and especially organic substances including textiles, plant fibers, dyes, pigments, oils, tars, protein residues, amber, jet, and bone. Definition Provenance (noun, “origin,” plural provenances), from the Middle French word provenant, present participle of provenir (“to come from” or “arise”), ultimately from the Latin provenio (to come forth), denotes the origin or source of an object or idea or may indicate its history of ownership. The term was originally used in art history and antiquities to designate the ownership of artworks but is now employed in similar senses in a wide range of fields, including science, computing, and archaeology. Historical Background The concept of provenance has been employed in archaeological research for more than 160 years and originally connoted an object’s “findspot” or to indicate the source of raw materials or the location of the manufacture of an object, such as in a workshop (Wilson & Pollard 2001: 507). Pioneering research by European chemists led to the acceptance of the concept that some chemical property of an inorganic archaeological artifact could be considered characteristic of the raw material source of the object; hence, the concept of “chemical fingerprinting” was born. Beginning in the 1960s, the chemical provenance of ceramics and other inorganic materials and some organic raw materials were analyzed and aided by the mathematical treatment of data sets and the manipulation of multivariate data. Professional archaeologists embraced fingerprinting as a major analytical tool as they had Willard Libby’s radiocarbon dating five decades ago. In the archaeological literature, the terms provenance and provenience are sometimes used interchangeably, but this is not always the 6173 P case. Price and Burton (2011: 213-4) oversimplify it, suggesting provenience as “birthplace” and provenance as “resume.” Historical archaeologists designate provenance as “the source of geological materials” and provenience as “the location where an artifact was recovered” (Hauser 2008: 162). There are potential semantic differences as, for example, the spelling of the term “archaeology” is used predominantly in the English-speaking world including North American academic institutions, but the term “archeology” tends to be a post-World War II spelling found in more recently established universities and publications oriented to anthropological archaeology. Provenance is used in the United Kingdom and much of the Old World to mean “place of origin.” In North America, provenience has largely replace provenance because for former is restricted to in situ location at the time of the discovery rather that the historical chain (origin to the present) employed by art historians and museums. Provenance may be used to explicate any artifact recovered archaeologically or any fossil recovered by paleontologists and in computer processing to indicate the history of data in a database record. In a review of nearly 700 articles on “provenance” appearing in the British journal Archaeometry (1957–2011), one finds the use of archaeology/archeology as well as provenance/provenance; some North American authors employ both spellings, archaeology or archeology, while provenience tends to be employed by North American scholars to mean either the artifact’s context or location or its history. A review of a similar set of more than 250 articles on “provenance” in the Journal of Archaeological Sciences (1974–2011) and nearly 50 in the American Journal of Archaeology (examined 1960–2011) reveals a mixed use of “provenance” to mean origin of raw materials and/or the location where an object was found. In archaeological and ethnographic studies in North America, the term provenience is used somewhat similarly to “provenance,” but readers are advised to determine if an author uses the terms as synonyms or differentiates them by employing provenience to describe the context P P 6174 in three-dimensional space in which an artifact was recovered and using provenance to designate the source(s) or raw materials used in making the artifact and the object’s documented history. The “provenience postulate” (Weigand et al. 1977: 24), initially suggested in a study of turquoise sources, is a significant element in the study of the origin of archaeological materials and states that chemical differences within a single source of material must be less than the differences between two or more sources of the material if they are to de differentiated. This means that if a source is determined to be chemically distinct, materials from it that have been moved some distance from that source would share the same chemistry and can be determined. Ideally, this would (1) involve a natural material that has not been altered after extraction from the source, (2) that there are a small number of potential sources, (3) that the investigator has adequate samples from each source to be able to assess compositional variability, and (4) that there are one or more elements or compounds adequately distinguishes the sources. Hence, obsidian is a more “ideal” material than pottery clays, glass, and metals, since clays can be mixed with other clays, glass cullet (broken recycled glass) and metals – particularly copper, silver, and gold – can be mixed with like materials from widely different sources during remanufacturing processes, and metals can be mixed to produce alloys such as bronze. In addition, comparative techniques, expert opinions, and the results of other scientific analyses may also be used to support the history of an object, but establishing provenance is essentially a matter of documentation. Archaeological Research Archaeological research entails the documentation of the precise location of sites, architecture, artifacts, and raw material sources. Placing these in a three-dimensional context and relating the coordinates to a master datum and the use of Cartesian coordinate were traditional practices now supplanted by GPS and GIS. The Global Positioning System (GPS), a space-based global Provenance Studies in Archaeology navigation satellite system (GNSS), provides location and time information anywhere on the Earth, while a geographic information system (GIS) also known as a geographical information system or geospatial information system is a merging of cartography, statistical analyses, and database technology that is designed to capture, store, manipulate, analyze, manage, and present a variety of geographically referenced data. Precise locational data for artifacts and raw material resources has become a hallmark of modern archaeology and is a form of “provenance.” The Provenance Hypothesis The traditional way of determining the geographical source of ancient pottery has been to map the spatial occurrences of pottery styles. For the historic eras, this poses minimal difficulty because historical and archival documents may locate kiln sites or production areas, but for much of prehistory information on production locales, the types of pottery fabricated there and the sociocultural and economic parameters associated with production are elusive. The criterion of abundance, gravity model, or other paradigms have provided assistance, but for the past seven decades, methodologies derived from geology and petrography and a variety of physicochemical approaches have been employed to locate potential places of origin by characterizing the composition of the artifacts with known sources of the raw materials used to fabricate the objects. Provenance studies on pottery, obsidian, turquoise, steatite, chert, and jade have been especially valuable but rest upon assumptions in the “provenance postulate” which is normally formulated in terms of chemical composition. Simply put, the postulate assumes that differences between distinct sources of raw materials may be recognized analytically and that the compositional variations will be greater between the sources than within the sources. Rice (1987: 413-26) provides a valuable, in-depth, and well-documented discussion of ceramic provenance and reviews chemical and petrographic methods, the creation of reference groups, the use of instrumentation Provenance Studies in Archaeology and statistics, the selection of elements for analysis, and comparing sherds and clays. In a more widespread treatment of the topic, Sayre (2000) discusses structure, raw materials and inclusions, multivariate statistical analysis, and characterization through ratios of stable isotopes. Wilson and Pollard (2001: 507-8) indicate that scientific provenance studies rest on six basic assumptions (presented in abbreviated form here): (1) that some chemical or isotopic characteristic of the geological raw materials is carried through unchanged into the finished object, (2) that the fingerprint varies between potential geological sources available in the past and that this variation can be related to geographical occurrences of the raw material, (3) that such characteristic fingerprints can be measured with sufficient precision in the finished artifacts to enable discrimination between competing potential sources, (4) that no “mixing” of raw materials (before or during processing) or that the mixing can be accounted for adequately, (5) that postdepositional processes either have a negligible effect or that the alteration can be detected, and (6) that any observed patterns of exchange or trade of the finished products are interpretable in terms of human behavior. Provenance Studies of Archaeological Materials (Raw Materials and Finished Products) Provenance studies on stone, ceramics, and metals account for the vast majority of all archaeological provenance analyses: • Lithics/stone: raw materials. Lithic raw materials may occur in outcrops or geological beds or as nodules in stream beds. Provenance studies have been undertaken on a wide variety of raw materials and artifacts including alabaster, basalt, chert, chlorite, flint, granite, greenstone (jadeite and nephrite), hematite, limestone (blocks and plaster), magnetite, marble, obsidian, quartzite, rhyolite, sandstone, schist, steatite (soapstone), and turquoise. Because the extraction and fabrication techniques of lithic production do not alter significantly the chemical composition, lithics provide the best 6175 P material by which to test the provenience hypothesis. Artifact reuse, exposure to heat, postdepositional processes, and storage in archaeological repositories or museums are not likely to modify the bulk chemical composition; hence, stone is theoretically an “ideal” material for provenance assessment. Lime plaster, cement, and concrete derive from rock sources and present complicating issues in provenance studies but not as complex as ceramics (Wilson & Pollard 2001; Tykot 2004; Lambert 2005). • Ceramics/pottery: finished products. Provenance studies have been conducted on earthenware, stoneware, protoporcelain, and porcelain which may occur in various types and classes of ceramic materials: domestic/ utilitarian and ritual pottery containers, figurines, spindle whorls, earspools, and other objects. Unlike stone sources or outcrops of source materials, clay is a complex product of rock mineralogy and subject to weathering and found in a variety of locations worldwide. Hence, few chemical studies have directly linked pottery vessels with specific clay sources. Clays being transported long distances from sources may contain naturally occurring organic or inorganic aplastics or tempers, or organic or inorganic materials may be introduced purposefully or by accident during the preparation of the clay. Heterogeneous clays from different sources may be mixed, levigated, and wedged, and pottery may be hand-built or wheel-thrown. The size and complexity of the manufacturing process – household production by one fabricator versus creation by multiple artisans each responsible for one step in a multiphase process versus a factory or industrial level of fabrication – complicate the ability to precisely define ceramic provenance (Rice 1987; Tykot 2004; Kolb 2008, 2011; Reedy 2008). • Glass: finished products. Products that have been studied for provenance include beads, containers and other vessels, faience, glazes, ingots, ornaments, tesserae, and window glass. Glass may have been a by-product of the P P 6176 technology of either glazed ceramics or metals. Ancient pyrotechnologies were unable to reach silica melting temperatures so that a modifier or flux derived from plant or animal sources was employed to lower melting points. Like ceramics, the composition of glasses and other vitreous silicates affects provenance because of the heterogeneous nature of the original raw materials used in production, the use of cullet, the addition of colorants or decolorants, and that containers used to hold molten glass is itself subject to flux and add impurities. As a result, the scientific assessment of glass provenance has had mixed success (Wilson & Pollard 2001; Lambert 2005; Paynter & Dungworth 2011). • Metals: raw materials. These include native copper, copper alloys, gold, lead, silver, and tin. Metals were among the earliest materials submitted for scientific provenance analyses but, like glass, suffer from the same issues of heterogeneous raw material origins, recyclability, purposeful or accidental mixing, and the creation of desired alloys, as well as high temperatures that alter trace element compositions and the discard of unwanted material removed as slag. In addition, fabrication procedures – cold hammering, annealing, joining, and casting – provide additional issues for determining provenance (Wilson & Pollard 2001; Tykot 2004; Lambert 2005). • Other materials: raw materials and finished products. The sources of amber, antler, bitumen, bone, dyes, horn, ivory, jet, pitch, resin, tar, and various organics such as hair and fibers have been analyzed. Baltic amber was characterized in the 1980s and can be distinguished from non-Baltic sources and imitations. Varying degrees of success have been reported with the studies of jet and ivory, while analyses of human bone and teeth have been useful in determining human migrations, and the assessment of herd animals (particularly sheep, goat, and cattle) have also focused on animal origins and movements. In addition, provenance studies of woolen textiles have increased dramatically during the past decade (Wilson & Pollard 2001; Lambert 2005). Provenance Studies in Archaeology Analytical Methods (Thin- Section Petrographic Analysis, Optical Mineralogy, or Optical Petrography) The macroscopic analysis of lithics, ceramics, and other clay objects is the initial step in analysis, closely followed by binocular and petrographic thin-section microscopy, derived from the geological sciences or materials science, which has been used for more than seven decades. Petrographic analyses in the 1920s led to the identification of stone sources used at Stonehenge. The technique remains an especially viable tool in the assessment of paste characteristics and ceramic provenance, playing a “crucial role” in provenance studies. The earliest research on pottery dates to Anna Shepard in 1932. Thinsection petrographic analysis (T-S-P), optical mineralogy (OM), and optical petrography (OP) are flexible techniques that can assist in characterizing textural aspects of clays, vessel, and/or sherds from the analysis of thin sections. Raw clays may naturally contain organic and/or inorganic aplastics, or temper may have been added during processing and/or by the potter during the mixture of different clays. These cultural factors complicate T-S-P and other physicochemical analyses such as INAA (Neff 1992; Neff 1998). Petrographic microscopy is the only technique that can describe individual mineral grains within a vessel or sherd. On the basis of cost-effectiveness, ease of sample preparation, and simplicity of analytical procedure, the petrographic microscope offers the best method for identifying and classifying mineralogical compositions of ceramic pastes and relating these to their respective potential aplastics, especially those of inorganic origins. The thin sectioning of sherds or portions of ceramic artifacts (vessels and figurines) and the study of prepared specimens by petrographic microscopy have been demonstrated to be especially useful when the clay minerals and aplastics of a limited geological or geographical distribution are identifiable within the clay body. In these instances, it is a relatively easier task to locate an area or areas from which, based on clay and/or aplastic and/or mineral temper components, a particular ceramic artifact is most likely to have originated. Reedy (2008) has Provenance Studies in Archaeology written the most recent salient assessment on thin-section petrography. Drawbacks include that the technique is destructive of the original object since the analysis of ceramics or lithic material requires a thin section of at least 1 cm2 for analysis. In addition, there are limitations on mineral identification, notably that minerals <100 mm in diameter cannot be readily identified, and there are difficulties identifying opaque minerals. However, the procedure has been useful in characterizing ceramic types and wares especially in contexts where comparative petrographic data is lacking – such as in Central Asia (Kolb 2008). A Summary of Major Provenance Methods The summary format derives from Tykot (2004) and methodological data from Cilberto and Spotto (2000), Glascock and Neff (2003), Goffer (2007), Lambert (2005), Pollard et al. (2007), Pollard and Heron (2008), and Wilson and Pollard (2001) as well as from a review of provenance studies reported in Archaeometry (1957–2011), Journal of Archaeological Sciences (1974–2011), and American Journal of Archaeology (1960–2011). Other relevant journals that publish provenance studies include Geoarchaeology: An International Journal and Journal of Archaeological Research. Examples from the literature are noted. • AAS: Atomic Absorption Spectroscopy or OES Materials: stone, ceramics, glass, metals. Analyte: solution. Bulk chemistry: good; trace elements: very good (70+ elements). Superseded in the last decade by XRF. Examples: prehistoric pottery from Oklahoma; Maya ceramics from Guatemala. • EPMA: Electron Probe Microanalysis Materials: stone, ceramics, glass, metals. Analyte: solid. Bulk chemistry: excellent (surface); trace elements: low sensitivity. Similar to SEM which has a higher sensitivity. Examples: stone ballast to elucidate Mediterranean Sea trade routes; vitrified Peruvian wares; ancient Sudanese ceramics; Etruscan pottery. 6177 P • FTIR: Fourier Transform Infrared Spectrometry Materials: stone, ceramics, glass, metals, organics, burned bone. Analyte: solid. Bulk chemistry: good; trace elements: very good. Examples: southern Ontario chert sources; dyes used on silk (Prussian blue); dyes used on Greek ecclesiastical textiles (sixteenth to nineteenth century); differentiating Italian and Baltic sources of amber; sources of fats and oils used in Greek perfumes; wine residues in amphorae. • GC: Gas Chromatography, HT-GC (High Temperature GC), HT-GS-MS (HT-MS with MassSpectrometry) Materials: organics (hair, fur), resins, oils, fats, lipids, esters. Analyte: gas. Some gas chromatographs can be connected to a mass spectrometer which acts as the detector. Examples: sheep hair/wool discerning Scandinavian origins; terpenoid resins identifying Yemeni trade routes; pine resins on Great Basin pottery; Mediterranean Bronze Age perfumes; beeswax in Greek ceramics; bitumen sources used by the Mesoamerican Olmec (1200 BCE); sources of jet artifacts in the United Kingdom. • ICP-AES: Inductively Coupled Plasma (Spectroscopy)-Atomic Absorption Spectroscopy Materials: stone, ceramics, glass, metals, wine. Analyte: solution. Bulk chemistry: very good; trace elements: excellent (a large number of elements). Examples: Aegean obsidian; Nuzi ware from Syria. • ICP-MS: Inductively Coupled Plasma-Mass Spectroscopy Materials: stone, ceramics, glass, metals, serum blood, urine. Analyte: solution. Bulk chemistry: very good; trace elements: excellent (50+ elements); it is replacing INAA. Examples: steatite sources in Crete; Egyptian ceramics; sources of French porcelains; copper alloy artifacts from Tepe Yahya, Iran; Sassanian glass vessels from Iraq. P P 6178 • ICP-OES: Inductively Coupled PlasmaOptical Emission Spectrography Materials: stone, ceramics, glass, metals. Analyte: solution. Bulk chemistry: very good; trace elements: very good. Examples: third millennium BCE Iberian ceramics; East Asian storage jars. • INAA/NAA: Instrumental Neutron Activation Analysis Materials: stone, ceramics, glass, metals, amber. Analyte: solid/powder Bulk chemistry: very few elements; trace elements: excellent. Since 1967 it has been commonly used in provenance analyses and is a powerful quantitative analytical technique with application in a broad range of disciplines including agriculture, archaeology, geochemistry, health and nutrition, and environmental monitoring. Because of its sensitivity, great accuracy and precision, and versatility, the technique is a suitable method for analyzing many different types of samples (Glascock & Neff 2003: 1516; Neff (ed.) 1992). Thousands of analyses have been undertaken on lithics, ceramics, and metals. Examples: widespread use on obsidian artifacts and sources in Mexico, Guatemala, Peru, central and eastern Europe, the Aegean Islands, Sardinia, Turkey, New Zealand, and New Guinea; North American pipestone artifacts; chert sources in Belize; Samoan basalt; Etruscan marble. Commonly used since 1957 in ceramic and clay figurine analyses in the Mediterranean region (e.g., Tarsus, Rhodes, Corinth, Mycenae, Cyprus, and Italy); Samian ware; Basin of Mexico ceramics; Yuan Dynasty porcelains. Sourcing Sassanian silver in Southwest Asia; European blue glass trade beads in Ontario, Canada (c. 1660 CE); pigments in oil paintings (Rembrandt, Vermeer, and Van Dyck). • LA-ICP-MS: Laser Ablation-Inductively Coupled Plasma (Spectroscopy)-Mass Spectrometry, TOF-LA-ICP-MS (Time-of-Flight LA-ICP-MS) Provenance Studies in Archaeology • • • • Materials: stone, ceramics, glass, metals. Analyte: solution. Bulk chemistry: very good; trace elements: excellent, high sensitivity (70+ elements). Requires small samples and leaves minimum scarring on the artifact Examples: used since 2002 to analyze Aegean obsidian artifacts and architectural limestone used in Classic period Teotihuacan, Mexico (200–600 CE). In ceramics: Colonial Mexican pottery; Samoan wares; differentiating Hohokam and Patayan pottery in Arizona. Glass: Near Eastern bead sources (Mesopotamia, Egypt, and Greece); Italian glass mosaic tesserae. Metals: copper alloys at Tepe Yahya, Iran; production loci of Roman coins in Europe. LC: Liquid Chromatography, LC-MS (LC with Mass Spectrometry) Materials: resins, dyes, sera, blood, oils, fats, lipids, esters, wine. Analyte: liquid. Examples: ancient dyes from the eastern Mediterranean (Tyrian purple from Murex sea snails); textile dyes from Southwest Asian Bronze and Iron Ages; the Shroud of Turin; beeswax in the Aegean. LC-MS is effective in characterizing wine residues in Egyptian pottery and beer residues from Southwest Asian ceramics. M/S: Mössbauer (German: Mößbauer) Spectroscopy Materials: stone, ceramics, glass, metals. Analyte: solid/powder. Similar to NMR spectroscopy, M/S probes minute changes the energy levels of atomic nuclei. Examples: Peruvian ceramics (Moche, Nazca, and Inka). OCL: Optical Cathodoluminescence Materials: stone, ceramics. Analyte: solid/ powder. Bulk chemistry: good; trace elements: very good. Examples: differentiating local from imported Neo-Assyrian palace ware (934–610 BCE) based on quartz grain analysis. OES: Optical Emission Spectroscopy or AES Materials: metals. Analyte: solid/powder. Provenance Studies in Archaeology • • • • • Bulk chemistry: very few elements; trace elements: fair/good. Examples: copper alloys in Mesopotamia; steel and cast iron in European artifacts. PIXE/PIGME: Proton Induced X-Ray/ Gamma Ray Emission Materials: stone, ceramics, glass, metals, organics. Analyte: solid. Bulk chemistry: very good (surface analysis); trace elements: fair/good Examples: gold and silver coins from Southwest Asia; East Asian storage jars; obsidian from Chiapas, Mexico; South African ostrich eggshell. R/S: Raman Spectroscopy Materials: stone, ceramics, glass, metals, liquids, gases. Analyte: solid, liquid, gas. Examples: clay types in Argentinian pottery (900–1200 CE). SEM: Scanning Electron Microscopy, SEMEDS (SEM with X-ray Detector), SEM-WDS (SEM with Wavelength Dispersive X-ray Detector) Materials: stone, ceramics, glass, metals, textiles. Analyte: solid. Bulk chemistry: good (semiquantitative); trace elements: none. SEM-EDS has low sensitivity but identifies small inclusions <10 mm in diameter; higher sensitivity with SEM-WDS. Examples: microstructural, microtextual, and sintering analyses of Iberian ceramics (third millennium BCE); Nuzi ware distribution (1600–1200 BCE); origins of sheep hair/wool (Scandinavia and New Zealand). SIRA: Stable Isotope Ratio Analysis Materials: marble, metal, bone, teeth, organics, lead-based pigments. Analyte: solid/gas. Isotope ratios: C, N, O, S, H, He. Examples: Italian marbles and Aegean sculptural stone. SIR: Strontium Isotope Ratios Materials: organics, textiles, leather, bone, teeth, shell. Analyte: solid. Isotopes: 87Sr/86Sr ratios. Important in reconstructing human and animal migration routes. 6179 P Examples: sheep hair/wool (Scandinavia); Oaxacan and Gulf Coast migrants to Teotihuacan, Mexico (200–600 CE). • TIMS: Thermal Ionization Mass Spectrometry Materials: stone, metals, glass, bone. Analyte: solid/gas Heavy elements: Pb, Sr, Nd. Examples: Byzantine and early Islamic glass sources (Egypt, Syria, and Palestine). • XRD: X-Ray Diffraction Materials: stone, ceramics, glass, metals. Analyte: solid/powder. Bulk chemistry: excellent (surface analysis); trace elements: very good. Examples: ceramics: Asia Minor terra-cotta figurines; Iranian, Iberian, and Etruscan pottery; Chinese porcelains. • XRF: X-Ray Fluorescence, ED-XRF (Energy Dispersive-XRF) Materials: stone, ceramics, glass, metals. Analyte: solid/powder. Bulk chemistry: excellent (surface analysis); trace elements: excellent. Hundreds of studies have been undertaken on lithics, ceramics, glass, and metals. Highprecision XRF analysis does not require a nuclear facility and is preferable to INAA in terms of the ease of sample preparation and analytical procedure. The greater effectiveness of high-precision XRF than INAA in this provenance study is a result of the different array of elements measured and the higher precision obtained for certain elements by XRF. Portable (or handheld) X-ray fluorescence (pXRF) spectrometry has become common for the geochemical characterization of obsidian artifacts and ceramics. Examples: lithics: andesite (Mid-Atlantic region of the United States); basalt (Neolithic to Roman era millstones in the Mediterranean region); jasper (Japan and MidAtlantic region of the United States); limestone and plaster (Mesoamerican Classic period Teotihuacan and Postclassic Mexica Aztec); obsidian (New Mexico and the Basin of Mexico). Ceramics (since 1999): Tikal, Mexico; southwestern Iran; Attic coral red slips; Rio Grande glaze paint P P 6180 pottery trade; French white earthenwares (1755–1820). Glass: Mesopotamia; Roman glass in Britain; medieval blue soda glass. Metals: Athenian coins; Roman coins in the United Kingdom; cold-worked copper in Upper Great Lakes North America; pewter flatware in Europe (thirteenth to sixteenth century); Ife and Benin West African bronzes; differentiating native North American from European imported copper. • XRPD: X-ray Powder Diffraction Materials: stone, ceramics, glass, metals. Analyte: solid/powder. Bulk chemistry: excellent (surface analysis); trace elements: very good. Examples: crystalline phases of ceramics during firing (Balearic Islands, 1700–850 BCE). Key Issues and Future Directions Early provenance studies focused on the use of one or two methods in combination, such as thinsection petrography (T-S-P) and INAA. The literature review indicates that currently up to a half-dozen methods may be employed in combination to answer a variety of questions. A few characterization examples: • Flint by ICP–SFMS and MC-ICP-MS • Marble by T-S-P, PIXE, EMPA, and SIRA • Lime plaster by T-S-P, SEM-EDS, XRF, and LA-ICP-MS • Clay cooking vessels by T-S-P, XRF, INAA, XRD, and SEM. XRF, ICP-MS, XRD, and EPMA. ICP-AES, SEM, and XRD. T-S-P, SEM-EDS, INAA, R/S, and X-ray (vessel structure) plus replication studies • Amphorae by T-S-P, XRD, XRF, and EPMA • Ceramic crucibles by binocular microscopy, T-S-P, XRD, ICP-MS, ICP-AES, SEM • Organic dyes by SEM-EDX and HT-GC-MS T-S-P with computerized point counts and SEM-EDS or XRF correlated with pottery forms, surface treatments, and construction methods create a holistic approach to the thinsection analysis. The goal is to understand the advancement of manufacturing techniques, Provenance Studies in Archaeology which are built upon the technical discoveries of individual potters and driven by changes in sociocultural practices, mortuary traditions, and economics (Kolb 2011). T-S-P is advancing through the scanning of the thin sections and sherd surfaces and adding images to searchable databases. An advantage is that these images include the entire area of the thin section (under low magnification) rather than just a single field of view as under a microscope, facilitating macrotexture studies. An advantage is that the time and expense of thin-section cutting, mounting, and grinding are eliminated, allowing data to be collected on even larger numbers of specimens for rapid characterization (Reedy 2008). Future refinements are expected in LA-ICP-MS and XRF and work advances on new topics such as characterizing slag inclusions in iron artifacts and distinguishing sources of alloys in metal and constituents in glass. Greater precision is accompanied by the troublesome question: After great time and expense in provenance studies, do scientists provide appropriate and relevant data for archaeological interpretation? Some contend that there is too much data or too precise information (Wilson & Pollard 2001: 515). Cross-References ▶ Archaeological Chemistry: Definition ▶ Archaeometry Laboratory at the University of Missouri Research Reactor (MURR) ▶ Archaeometry: Definition ▶ Bone: Chemical Analysis ▶ Ceramics: Scientific Analysis ▶ Dating Techniques in Archaeological Science ▶ Ethnoarchaeology ▶ Fourier Transform Infrared Spectroscopy (FTIR): Applications in Archaeology ▶ Geoarchaeology ▶ International Symposium on Archaeometry ▶ Laboratory for Archaeological Chemistry (University of Wisconsin) ▶ Modern Material Culture Studies ▶ Organic Residue Analysis in Archaeology Public Archaeology, The Move Towards ▶ Proton-Induced X-Ray Emission Spectroscopy (PIXE): Applications in Archaeology ▶ Scanning Electron Microscopy (SEM): Applications in Archaeology ▶ Site and Artifact Preservation: Natural and Cultural Formation Processes ▶ Society for Archaeological Sciences (SAS) ▶ Textiles and Fabrics: Conservation and Preservation ▶ X-Ray Diffraction (XRD): Applications in Archaeology ▶ X-Ray Fluorescence (XRF): Applications in Archaeology References CILBERTO, E. & G. SPOTTO. 2000. Modern analytical methods in art and archaeology (Chemical Analysis series 155). New York: John Wiley. GLASCOCK, M.D. & H. NEFF. 2003. Neutron activation analysis and provenance research in archaeology. Measurement science and technology 14: 1516-26. GOFFER, Z. 2007. Archaeological chemistry (2nd edition). (Chemical Analysis 170). Hoboken (NJ): WileyInterscience. HAUSER, M.W. 2008. An archaeology of black markets: local ceramics and economies in eighteenth-century Jamaica. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. KOLB, C.C. 2008. Petrographic analysis of Afghanistan ceramics: Neolithic through the Iron Age, in P. Vandiver, F. Casadio, B. McCarthy, R.H. Tykot, & J.L.R. Sil (ed.) Materials issues in art and archaeology VIII (Symposium Proceedings 1047): 147-74. Pittsburgh: Materials Research Society. - 2011. Chaı̂ne opératoire and ceramics: classifications and typology, archaeometry, experimental archaeology, and ethnoarchaeology, in S. Scarcella (ed.) Archaeological ceramics: a review of current research (British Archaeological Reports International series S-2193): 5-19. Oxford: Archaeopress. LAMBERT, J.B. 2005. Archaeological chemistry, in H.D.G. Maschner & C. Chippindale (ed.) Handbook of archaeological methods: 478-500. Lanham (MD): AltaMira Press. NEFF, H. 1998. Units in chemistry-based ceramic provenance investigations, in A.F. Ramenofsky & A. Steffen (ed.) Unit issues in archaeology: measuring time, space, and material: 115-27. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. NEFF, H. (ed.) 1992. Chemical characterization of ceramic pastes in archaeology (Monographs in World Archaeology 7). Madison (WI): Prehistory Press. PAYNTER, S. & D. DUNGWORTH. 2011. Archaeological evidence for glassworking: guidelines for best practices. 6181 P Swindon: English Heritage. Available at: http://www. english-heritage.org.uk/publications/glassworking guidelines/ POLLARD, A.M. & C. HERON. 2008. Archaeological chemistry (2nd edition). Cambridge: Royal Society of Chemistry Publishing. POLLARD, A.M., C.M. BATT, B. STERN & S.M.M. YOUNG. 2007. Analytical chemistry in archaeology (Cambridge Manuals in Archaeology). Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press. PRICE, T.D. & J.H. BURTON. 2011. Provenience and provenance, in T.D. Price & J.H. Burton (ed.) An introduction to archaeological chemistry: 213-41. New York: Springer. REEDY, C.L. 2008. Thin-section petrography of stone and ceramic cultural materials. London: Archetype Publications. RICE, P.M. 1987. Pottery analysis: a sourcebook. Chicago; London: University of Chicago Press. SAYRE, E.V. 2000. Determination of provenance, in R.A. Williamson & P.R. Nickens (ed.) Science and technology in historic preservation (Advances in Archaeological and Museum Science 4): 143-69. New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum Publishers. TYKOT, R.H. 2004. Scientific methods and applications to provenance studies, in M. Martini, M. Milazzo & M. Piacenti (ed.) Proceedings of the International School of Physics “Enrico Fermi”, Course CLIV: 407-32. Amsterdam: IOS Press. WEIGAND, P.C., G. HARBOTTLE & E.V. SAYRE. 1977. Turquoise sources and source analysis: Mesoamerica and the southwestern U.S.A., in T.K. Earle & J.E. Ericson (ed.) Exchange systems in prehistory: 15-34. New York: Academic Press. WILSON, L. & A.M. POLLARD. 2001. The provenance hypothesis, in D.R. Brothwell & A.M. Pollard (ed.) Handbook of archaeological sciences: 507-17. Chichester: John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Public Archaeology, The Move Towards Dante Angelo Departmento de Antropologı́a, Universidad de Tarapacá (UTA), Arica, Chile Introduction One of the most evident changes brought by the reflexive turn in archaeology is perhaps the move towards public archaeology. Although in its inception public archaeology was primarily P P 6182 related to educational concerns and efforts to attain public outreach (McGimsey 1972; Stone & Molyneaux 1994; Jameson 1997), in recent years it has become more complex to define. This slipperiness has to do with the fact that, as an umbrella term, public archaeology now encompasses a wide array of concepts and purposes (Schadla-Hall 1999; Merriman 2004a; Matsuda & Okamura 2011). This turn towards public archaeology, thus, can be better characterized by a gradual and explicit involvement of archaeology practitioners in different and intertwined levels of educational, political, governmental, and ethical issues. In this sense, it relates to and involves concepts such as development, heritage, applied archaeology, and community archaeology. Definition and Historical Background The term public archaeology attained recognition in the early 1970s with Charles R. McGimsey’s publication with this very title (McGimsey 1972). Then, it was mainly meant to address the dangers of destruction of archaeological remains, raise broader awareness about this problem, and support legislative efforts aimed at protecting them (Schadla-Hall 1999). The increasing pressures of development, observed mainly in the United States and European countries, posed a challenge to professionals and state institutions as they were increasingly confronted with the destruction and loss of historical and archaeological heritage. The rise of independent archaeological contractors, as well as the participation of some universities in the development process, provided some means to mitigate such destruction and gave rise to Cultural Resource Management (CRM) or contract archaeology. Known also as heritage management and archaeological resource management, one of the main tenets of CRM archaeology was the preservation of past remains, conceived as a resource belonging to societies (MacManamon & Hatton 2000). The past, henceforth, came to be seen as a public right pertaining to the interests of the whole society (Carman 2002; Merriman 2004b). Public Archaeology, The Move Towards As observed by Smith (2004: 6), although the equal accessibility and significance to all comers implied by the term “resource” was subsequently challenged, the prolific efforts to develop outreach and educational programs and prevent the destruction of archaeological remains also contributed to make the subject relevant to a broader audience. Additionally, scholars drawing from critical theory emphasized that a reflexive stand oriented to reinforce stakeholder communities’ civic and proactive engagements with the past should be paramount to public archaeology (Leone et al. 1995; Little & Shackel 2007). In any case, the term public archaeology began to take its current shape with the involvement of archaeology in public debates, traversing the borders of traditional academic archaeology, to respond to public interests about the past. The rationalist and political neutrality of scientific discourse, prevalent in the discipline during most of the 1960s and 1970s, was fiercely challenged in the early half of the 1980s. Theoretically, factions of the post-processual movement in archaeology, strongly influenced by feminist and Indigenous discourses, challenged the authority and ethics of representation of the “other” and echoed the cultural critique about the hegemony of the Western academy (Wylie 1982; Hodder 1986; Pels 1999); most of these critiques called for a more inclusionary archaeological interpretation, in which Indigenous peoples and different local communities and stakeholders could participate (Layton 1989; Hodder et al. 1995). Following the controversies that arose as a result of the creation of the World Archaeology Congress (WAC) in 1986, a much more politicized world emerged for archaeology (Ucko 1987; Shanks 2004). Authors such as Michael Shanks and Christopher Tilley (1992) and Mark Leone and colleagues (Leone et al. 1987, 1995), for example, emphasized the need for a critical appraisal of the interrelationship between archaeology and politics and to understand the power relations established discursively through historical and archaeological knowledge (see also McGuire 2008). Advocating for an inclusion of the Public Archaeology, The Move Towards different emerging voices, then, these contributions set an interpretive movement that came to call into question the prevalent authority over the past held by the discipline. With the advent of politics of identity and recognition, the past became a realm of contestation in which a variety of contemporary interests became interweaved. Thus, steering public archaeology in new directions, the reflexive turn established by an overt critique to objectivity, rationalism, and scientific archaeology coalesced with the politics of cultural recognition and provided the basis for a more inclusive debate, raising issues and categories such as identity, ethnicity, and so forth. Key Issues/Current Debates The move towards public archaeology has brought a new array of themes and topics to the discussion about archaeological practice and theoretical consideration. Prominent in the current debate related to this recent turn in the archaeological inquiry are the discussions about transnationalism, tourism, sustainable development, commodification of cultural resources, and global–local relationships (Smith 2006). The impact that this reflexive trend had on archaeological practice can be scrutinized at least in two interrelated aspects: collaboration and heritage. On the one hand, emanating from various angles, critiques to academic authority pushed archaeologists to reconsider their position as the only stewards of the past and prompted them to engage in collaborative programs with a wide array of Indigenous and local communities (Faulkner 2000; Colwell-Chanthaphonh & Ferguson 2010; Gnecco & Ayala 2011). Thus, a more nuanced perspective about public archaeology, although still involving educational and legislative aspects, now incorporates ethical concerns and acknowledges that the practice of “scientific archaeology” can no longer be the only authoritative voice about the past. Moreover, in investigating the past, archaeologists need to be aware about social, “racial,” political, and other tensions emerging from dissonant interpretations of the past; the practice of public archaeology, 6183 P therefore, also incorporates components of ethics and sociopolitical accountability. On the other hand, although still concerned about protecting the past, public archaeology now actively engages in issues related to the management of sites through a nuanced understanding of cultural and archaeological heritage. Heritage, as a concept, has recently made its way to the core of archaeological theory. Closely related to the politics of recognition mentioned above, the concept of heritage has recently opened a new and vigorous debate, expanding the considerations of what constitutes the public and, therefore, what public archaeology or archaeological practice should entail. The involvement of different communities of stakeholders that stepped forward to express interests or concerns about archaeological sites and archaeological discourse constituted a new challenge for the discipline (Russell 2006; Smith 2006). Barbara Bender’s (1998) seminal work about the emblematic archaeological site of Stonehenge provides an exemplary approach to the analysis of the historically dynamic contexts that stakeholders (including archaeologists) can become involved in. Eluding the essentialist thought that commonly portrays Indigenous peoples and descendant communities as the only “other voices” that come forward to question archaeology, Bender’s work also reflects on the formation of new groups of stakeholders and the politics that surround them. By the same token, critical awareness about the decisions, interpretation, and management of cultural and archaeological heritage acquired global connotations through the increasing myriad of stakeholders as well as a burgeoning tourist industry related to the consumption of the past. This global trend of cultural consumption closely relates to a process of shrinking of distances which – fueled by a burgeoning and constant flux of peoples, goods, information, and capital – consolidated globalization as a phenomenon with a wide array of economic, cultural, and political implications worldwide. For many, globalization meant the standardization of culture as well as economics, with the consequent establishment of a single dominant P P 6184 and global cultural order; however, contradicting the fears of homogenization predicted as part of the effects of globalization, the blooming of cultural diversity set under the auspices of multiculturalism amounted to define tourism as one of the key themes in archaeological theory (Merriman 2002; Meskell 2005). Consequently, archaeologists have started to turn their attention to the relationship of the discipline with the heritage and tourism industries. Related to this current trend, tourism and cultural recreation have become central to archaeologists as the public increasingly demands the articulation of new narratives about the past (Holtorf 2005). As heritage or cultural tourism consolidates as one of the most important global industries (Urry 2002), the interest in archaeological heritage has gradually increased over the last few decades. With a burgeoning demand of cultural consumption fostered by an exponentially increasing flux of capital and peoples, tourism promoted archaeological heritage to new dimensions. Additionally, the gradual involvement of different stakeholders and local communities in heritage issues brought up several concerns regarding property and propriety of heritage. Archaeologists, in this sense, have been pushed to explore ever more complex and intertwined relationships involving individuals, communities, states, and global agencies at different scales. Local understandings of heritage values, however, as demonstrated by different scholars, can differ significantly from those parameters conceived as universal. The past, once aptly depicted as a “foreign country” (Lowenthal 2003), became the arena in which active – and sometimes dissonant – social constructions continuously take place through heritage and tourism and, therefore, have opened new lines of debate regarding its ownership and stewardship (Smith 2006). International Perspectives Arguably, then, heritage tourism has become one of the most profitable industries of recent decades and a global force that increasingly extends its Public Archaeology, The Move Towards branches throughout the world (Hoffman et al. 2002; Higueras 2008). As part of this global trend in which archaeological heritage is now involved, the heritage industry included in the core of developmental policies of global organizations such as the World Bank has been endowed a reputation of being a determinant factor for economic growth, especially for developing countries (Meskell 2005; Lafrenz 2008). Whereas it is often argued that heritage can play a significant role in overcoming economic adversities, less is said about its detrimental effects on local communities. While some argue for the necessity of making useable pasts, as something that can be assessed to provide economic profitability, others question the beneficiaries of these profits (Lafrenz 2009). As the expectations of tourism and heritage industries have risen, the attempts to attain the inscription of sites in the prestigious World Heritage Site list by different country parties have also escalated. A large percentage of recent nominations, related to the aforementioned search for economic growth, have to do with the fact that the attempt to gain such a reputable designation will help to promote heritage sites as marketable tourist sites. In this sense, with an exponential number of new local sites and museums that now compete to attain some recognition while others focus on maintaining their high profiles and wellpreserved statuses, the values and principles for such recognitions and other tenets heralded by global organizations are being called into question. Questioning the set of values that have commonly been used to define cultural and archaeological heritage, some archaeologists now actively work to emphasize local views and values regarding the past (Faulker 2000). Challenging previous top-down perspectives that were mainly concerned with a rather monumental and conservationist view of archaeological heritage, the intervention of new stakeholders established the need for archaeologists to understand the emergence of new relationships between local interests and global demands (Hodder 2003). Whereas international agencies and organizations such as UNESCO, ICOMOS, and WHC had advanced important contributions Public Archaeology, The Move Towards to deal with issues deeply affecting cultural heritage, such as looting and trafficking of archaeological remains, a new approach to heritage also emphasizes ethical concerns pertaining to cultural property and human rights (Brodie et al. 2000; Brodie & Walker 2002; Silverman & Fairchild Ruggles 2007). In this scenario, as heritage has become the axis where these contemporary social understandings and active constructions of the past come together, public archaeology confronts a wide array of challenges in its efforts to engage with different communities and stakeholders. Related to this, by drawing away from conservative approaches to heritage, public archaeology has also highlighted the importance of including different criteria and considerations, other than those defined by the World Heritage Convention in the definition of valuable heritage sites (Cleere 1996; Lafrenz 2008). As a result, heritage organizations and state agencies have been compelled to take into consideration a more dynamic and diversified understanding in which cultural and heritage value could be also related to political restitution or economic leverage and well-being. Nonetheless, although different countries have adopted the globally sponsored efforts towards the recognition of their Indigenous peoples, for many of these populations, to attain such recognition implies a compliance with guidelines of authenticity in order for them to prove cultural and genealogical continuity so that they may be conferred with the rights to cultural ancestry (Clifford 1988; Hale 1999). Thus, some of the questions still to be addressed regarding the intersection of public archaeology and tourism are related to the new power relationships and cultural dynamics provoked by the commodification of cultural heritage. For instance, the demand for authentic experiences related to this global trend of cultural consumption has commonly driven heritage managers, cultural planners, and tourism-related policy makers to resort to the use of archaeological discourse to recast “authentic” – or rather essentialist – views of culture (Castañeda 1996; Benavides 2004; Hamilakis 2008). This is particularly the case for Indigenous peoples and other 6185 P historically marginalized communities that, related to their cultural and political struggle, opt or are compelled to resort to heritage and cultural tourism as strategies to boost their economies (Meskell 2005; Lafrenz 2008); in this sense, Indigenous peoples remain commonly represented as passively reproducing a colonial imaginary in the realm of heritage. Furthermore, it has been generally the case that most of the countries whose archaeological heritage is administrated by state and centralized agencies not only tend to emphasize its economic importance for local development, as part of their policies, but also – and primarily – to reify it as the legitimate roots of nationhood (Rowan & Baram 2004; Hamilakis 2008). Therefore, despite the fact that these strategies have prompted a successful public recognition of multiple ethnic groups, which is one of the reasons why they became widely adopted as part of different state policies, they also exert powerful constrains and fixities determined by the very demands posed by consumption. Different collaborative projects between local communities and archaeologists have, therefore, been caught up in a series of paradoxes. On the one hand, collaborative projects struggle to protect archaeological sites and to confront the destructive threats of development and sometimes, ironically, even harmful effects of tourism; as it was noted, “cultural tourism can pose a significant challenge to the management of heritage sites, as visitors can have positive and negative impacts, and increased visitation means increased responsibility, especially in terms of on-site safety” (Smith & Burke 2007: 239). On the other hand, public archaeology projects that involve working with economically disadvantaged communities often involve efforts relating to political empowerment and identity issues as well as attempting to orient their efforts to promote heritage tourism opportunities as part of these communities’ social and economic sustainability. In that sense, the move towards public archaeology needs to be understood as an ongoing process in which the practice of archaeology itself becomes reconfigured. It comes as no surprise that public archaeology, as part of its response to these new challenges, has adopted and stressed the importance of a rather involved take on the politics P P 6186 surrounding the conceptualization of the audiences towards whom our work is directed, which – at its turn – implies a strong reflexive slant towards ethics. Future Directions The objectives of public archaeology largely remain framed within the original goals, namely, committed to reaching broader and more diverse audience whose needs and demands regarding the past can be advanced and supported by the work of archaeologists. As part of this, public archaeology is still concerned with the protection and preservation of archaeological heritage and seeks to provide adequate management plans to respond to tourism global needs, for instance, while keeping the balance between tourism expectations and the carrying capacity of archaeological sites. Nonetheless, public archaeology is also becoming increasingly involved in collaborative efforts to yield more inclusive considerations of local perceptions of the past, as part of the categorization of archaeological sites as global tourist destinations. Practitioners involved in public archaeology are also aware that such categorization cannot be fulfilled by any standardized set of practices nor unique codes or universal paradigms. Arguably, the present times are characterized by highly politicized contexts in which claims to heritage and identity, however controversial, are part of a struggle for power and still rely very heavily on discourses about the past. Regardless of the aforementioned paradoxes, or perhaps precisely because of them, public archaeology is gradually moving to include developers and tourist operators, as well as state agencies, educational partners, and legislators as part of the equation (Hoffman et al. 2002: 31). Therefore, it can be said that what public archaeology now faces is an urgent need to reconsider previous notions of what has been understood by “the public,” in order to achieve even wider conceptualizations. In this sense, if one contends that public archaeology is mainly meant to take care of the public interest in the past, then it will also be necessary to acknowledge the impossibility of considering Public Archaeology, The Move Towards a general, single, and homogeneous public (McGuire 2008: 86–7). It follows from here that archaeologists need to keep considering who this public is – or rather, who the different audiences we are addressing and responding to are – and the ways in which it/they become constituted, as well as to recognize the effects, influences, and contentions fostered by a burgeoning process of globalization upon the public’s interests in the past. It is crucial, therefore, to take into account the power relationships displayed between micro and macro levels (stakeholder communities, state agencies, and global organizations or corporations) and the way national or global entities’ decisions and actions equally impact archaeological resources and upon the different audiences’ criteria of value and importance of the past. In order to advance its goals and attain a fully fledged engagement of archaeology with the different stakeholders and constituencies interested in the past, it will be necessary to weave all those parameters into some of the common themes that have, thus far, characterized public archaeology. Then, any education outreach projects oriented to the valuing of the past (and its preservation), as well as any attempt to use archaeology as an effective way to overcome economic imbalances or prompt political action by lobbying for recognition of previously disenfranchised communities, will need to make sense of the conditions and differences in which these activities are going to be carried out as part of this engagement. Cross-References ▶ Community Archaeology ▶ Heritage Museums and the Public ▶ Heritage Tourism and the Marketplace ▶ Heritage Values and Education ▶ Heritage: Public Perceptions ▶ Local Communities and Archaeology: A Caribbean Perspective ▶ “Public” and Archaeology ▶ Public Humanities and Cultural Heritage ▶ World Archaeological Congress (WAC) ▶ World Archaeological Congress (WAC) and Cultural Heritage Management ▶ World Heritage and Human Rights Public Archaeology, The Move Towards References BENAVIDES, H. 2004. 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Current Anthropology 28(3): 283–302. LEONE, M. P., M. CREVELING, L. HURST, B. JACKSON-NASH, H. JONES, H. JOPLING, KAISER, G. LOGAN & M. WARNER. 1995. Can an African-American historical archaeology be an alternative voice?, in I. Hodder, M. Shanks, A. Alexandri, V. Buchli, J. Carman, J. Last & G. Lucas (ed.) Interpreting archaeology. Finding meaning in the past: 110–124. London: Routledge. LITTLE, B. & P. SHACKEL. 2007. Archaeology as a tool of civic engagement. Lanham (MD): Altamira Press. LOWENTHAL, D. 2003[1985]. The past is a foreign country. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. MACMANAMON, F. & A. HATTON. (ed.) 2000. Cultural resource management in contemporary society. Perspectives on managing and presenting the past. London: Routledge. MATSUDA, A. & K. OKAMURA. 2011. Introduction: new perspectives in global public archaeology, in K. Okamura & A. Matsuda (ed.) New perspectives in global public archaeology: 1–18. New York: Springer. MCGIMSEY, R.C. III. 1972. Public archaeology. New York and London: SPCK Publishing. MCGUIRE, R. 2008. Archaeology as political action. Berkeley: University of California Press. MERRIMAN, N. 2002. Archaeology, heritage and interpretation, in B. Cunliffe, W. Davis & C. Renfrew (ed.) Archaeology. The widening debate: 541–66. Oxford: The British Academy. - 2004a. Introduction. Diversity and dissonance in public archaeology, in N. Merriman (ed.) Public archaeology: 1–17. London: Routledge. - (ed.) 2004b. Public archaeology. London: Routledge. MESKELL, L. 2005. Sites of violence: terrorism, tourism, and heritage in the archaeological present, in L. Meskell & P. Pels (ed.) Embedding ethics: 123–46. Oxford: Berg. PELS, P. 1999. Professions of duplexity. Current Anthropology 40(2): 101–36. ROWAN, Y. & U. BARAM. (ed.) 2004. Marketing heritage: archaeology and the consumption of the past. Walnut Creek (CA): Altamira Press. RUSSELL, I. (ed.) 2006. Images, representations and heritage: moving beyond modern approaches to archaeology. New York: Springer. SCHADLA-HALL, T. 1999. Editorial: public archaeology. European Journal of Archaeology 2(2): 147–58. SHANKS, M. 2004. Archaeology/politics, in J.L. Bintliff (ed.) The Blackwell companion to archaeology: 490–508. Oxford: Blackwell. P P 6188 Public Education and Archaeology: Disciplining Through Education SHANKS, M. & C. TILLEY. 1992. Re-constructing archaeology. Theory and practice, 2nd edn. London: Routledge. SILVERMAN, H. & D. FAIRCHILD RUGGLES. (ed.) 2007. Cultural heritage and human rights. New York: Springer. SMITH, C. & H. BURKE. 2007. Digging it up down under. A practical guide to doing archaeology in Australia. New York: Springer. - 2004. Archaeological theory and the politics of cultural heritage. London: Routledge. SMITH, L. 2006. Uses of heritage. London: Routledge. STONE, P. & B. MOLYNEAUX. (ed.) 1994. The presented past. Heritage, museums, and education. London: Routledge - English Heritage. UCKO, P.J. 1987. Academic freedom and apartheid: the story of the World Archaeological Congress. London: Duckworth. URRY, J. 2002. The tourist gaze, 2nd edn. London: Sage. WYLIE, A. 1982. The interpretive dilemma, in I. Hodder (ed.) Symbolic and structural archaeology: 18–27. Cambridge: University of Cambridge Press. Further Reading BARAM, U. & Y. ROWAN. 2004. Archaeology after nationalism: globalization and the consumption of the past, in Y. Rowan & U. Baram (ed.) Marketing heritage: archaeology and the consumption of the past: 3–24. Walnut Creek (CA): Altamira Press. MACMANAMON, F., A. STOUT & J. BARNES. (ed.) 2008. Managing archaeological resources: global context, national programs, local actions. Walnut Creek (CA): Left Coast Press. OKAMURA, K. & A. MATSUDA. (ed.) 2011. New perspectives in global public archaeology. New York: Springer. SCHADLA-HALL, T. 2006. Public archaeology in the twentyfirst century, in R. Layton, S. Shennan & P. Stone (ed.) A future for archaeology: the past in the present: 75–82. London: Cavendish Publishing Limited. STOTTMAN, M.J. (ed.) 2010. Archaeologists as activists: can archaeology change the world. Tuscaloosa: The University of Alabama Press. Public Education and Archaeology: Disciplining Through Education Emma Waterton Institute for Culture and Society, University of Western Sydney, Penrith, NSW, Australia Introduction In 1994 Brian Molyneaux suggested that one of the most obvious, yet critical, functions of archaeology for society was education (Molyneaux 1994: 3; see also Stone 2004; Willcock 2004). Since then, the pairing of archaeology with education has gained considerable ground; so much so that while the term “public education” may not necessarily come to mind for all scholars and practitioners working within the field, most will hold an implicit familiarity with its central tenets via their connections to outreach, community archaeology, social inclusion, or public participation. This is because all of these concepts – and the practices they reflect – emerged out of a broader social movement that prompted archaeologists to start thinking about, reflecting upon, and dealing with the complex relationships between “the discipline” and “the public.” As with other attempts to engender public participation and support, education operates as a powerful point of connection between scholars, practitioners, politicians, and a vast variety of stakeholders and interest groups. A useful consequence of this arrangement has been the burgeoning of a range of learning tools, public presentations, “archaeology weeks,” festivals, and volunteering opportunities. Yet, despite the proactive language often used to describe this area of development, it is important to remember that it can play out in a number of ways, not all of which are positive. Definition Archaeology can tell people a great deal not only about human experiences in the past but in the present, too (Henson 2011). It is, by its very nature, educative. Despite this, not a great deal of critical attention has been channelled towards archaeological education as a subject of enquiry in and of itself – with the exception of sustained work by Don Henson, John H. Jameson, Peter Stone, and, more recently, Yannis Hamilakis. What, then, is implied by the heading “Archaeology within Public Education?” To be clear, in this context, the term “public education” does not refer in any way to the classification of a school as it might in the UK, the USA, or Australia. Rather, it refers to the intersection of a broad spectrum of educative activity with the general Public Education and Archaeology: Disciplining Through Education public. The term “education” can loosely be described as a process of producing and disseminating knowledge. More sharply defined, it denotes a number of different types of learning, beginning with compulsory schooling, vocational learning, and further education, all of which are captured by the category formal education and take place within schools, colleges, and universities. To this can be added extra-formal learning, which refers to those who opt to extend their knowledge by participating in less formal classes and courses offered by learning institutions. In the UK alone, Don Henson (2011: 219) estimates that there are somewhere in the region of 15,000 people enrolled in these sorts of formal or extra-formal archaeology courses. Despite these numbers, the forms of learning most commonly associated with the term “public education” in archaeology are those that fall into the categories of informal learning, nonvocational learning, and lifelong learning, which are united in their association with a “practical knowledge tradition which stresses direct experience” (Livingstone 2001: 3). This is the nub of archaeology within public education. Although the most stereotypical example undoubtedly remains the on-site excavation, these categories of learning produce a plethora of educative experiences, including guided walks, school visits, live interpretation, outreach, storytelling, landscape assessments, artifact handling, work placements, popular publications, programs designed to accommodate public participation, public presentations, heritage open days, fairs, and collaborative projects. Recent additions to the fold are things like museum displays and their interpretation, which have come to be envisaged as powerful learning tools in recent museology literature. Less likely to spring to mind when one thinks about public education are self-directed activities such as volunteering; though not obvious, these sorts of activities are nonetheless important learning experiences within the field. Like formal education, at the core of these activities is the production and dissemination of knowledge. There is, however, a second, more muted, aspect to education – both formal and informal – that must also be accommodated within its 6189 P definition; that is, knowledge, once produced and disseminated, goes on to perform particular social, cultural, political, religious, or economic roles in wider social life, based upon how it fits with different identities and their respective access to power and resources. Education, whether public or otherwise, is thus also political. Whether one is referencing high school curricula or a program of lifelong learning, it is always possible to peel away the initial layers concerned with course outlines, content, timetabling, assessment, or delivery and glimpse the deeper ideological currents. Indeed, as Yannis Hamilakis (2004: 295) points out, choices are made, and those choices say something about issues of power, value, and assumption, all of which in turn are revelatory of a society’s underlying social structures and the political persuasions of the day. These sorts of arguments are applicable not only in countries where a form of repressive government might already be anticipated but in progressive and democratic countries, too. In the UK, for example, archaeological- and heritagebased public education outlets may have embedded within them assimilatory messages that align with either New Labour’s agenda of social inclusion or the more recent Conservative government’s attempts to foster national cohesion, both of which are implicitly fuelled by a fear of difference (Waterton 2010). In this scenario, particular narratives of the past, along with their associated cultural symbols, may be foregrounded in museum displays or other interpretative devices because of their ability to facilitate national identity formation and thus support a certain kind of citizenship. At the same time, other educational institutions may bend the same narratives in such a way as to inspire emancipatory thinking. Either way, the point here is that public education cannot simply be accepted as universal, stable, or, indeed, always necessarily “good” (Lewis 2009). Historical Background Countries such as the UK and the United States have a relatively long history of promoting archaeology within public education, a point best explained by the arrival of an ethically P P 6190 Public Education and Archaeology: Disciplining Through Education engaged program of stewardship in both countries in the 1960s and 1970s, which is today associated with the terms “archaeological heritage management” in the UK and “cultural resource management” in the USA. An important and lasting consequence of this has been the conceptual and theoretical shift felt within the archaeological discipline, which led to a questioning of the legitimacy of its assumed claims to knowledge and control over the past. This, along with the growing intensity of marketdriven policies and tropes of accountability, triggered an increase in the acknowledgment of the public’s right to be consulted and involved. In the USA, where archaeology is strongly influenced by anthropological traditions, the relationship between the two was cemented at the governmental level, with the US National Park Service, the US Bureau of Land Management, the US Department of the Interior, and the US Army Corp, for example, all implementing programs or projects aimed at developing public involvement in archaeological activity. A useful example of one such project is that of Project Archaeology, a collaboration of the US Department of the Interior, Bureau of Land Management and Montana State University, which is an education program for “everyone interested in learning or teaching about our nation’s rich cultural legacy and protecting it for future generations to learn from and enjoy” (Project Archaeology website). A focus upon archaeology’s educative capacity developed in the 1970s and, as Laurajane Smith (2004: 90) points out, can be attributed to a number of concerns. First and foremost, however, American archaeologists at that time were troubled by the public image of archaeology and sought to redefine the discipline (Smith 2004). From this emerged an emphasis on notions of “common” heritage and public “good,” to which archaeological scholars responded by highlighting the discipline’s need for a duty of care and responsibility towards the public. As Matsuda and Okamura (2011: 2) have pointed out, this impetus was heavily influenced by debates between processual and post-processual thinking in North American archaeological circles at the time. The Council for British Archaeology, founded in 1944 with the slogan “archaeology for all,” is a prime example of historical agitation for archaeological education at the institutional level in the UK, evidenced particularly by the establishment of the Young Archaeologists’ Club in 1973 (Henson 2011: 220). Since then, a range of reports and policy documents have emerged that foreground education within the sector, including A Common Wealth: Museums in the Learning Age (1997) and Opening Doors: Learning in the Historic Environment (2004). It is important to acknowledge the political climate that continues to surround such developments in the UK, particularly the influence of the New Labour government (1997–2010) and their policy platform of social inclusion. Here, the turn to ideals of public value, issues of access, and a democratization of learning had a powerful affect on the way archaeology was conceptualized at the governmental level, evidenced in part by conferences such as Heritage for All and Capturing the Public Value of the Past and in policy position papers such as The Historic Environment: A Force for Our Future. In turn, these policies, specific to archaeology, heritage, museums, or the historic environment, can be traced to a broader impulse within the UK towards learning, as captured by documents such as Learning Works: Widening Participation in Further Education (1997), Further Education in the New Millennium (1998), and Learning for the 21st Century (1997). At the more global level, a historical injunction towards public education can be traced through a number of policies and publications. The European Convention on the Protection of the Archaeological Heritage (Valetta Convention), revised in 1999, is a case in point, as illustrated by Article 9, “Promotion of Public Awareness,” which explicitly references education and public opinion. Likewise, the Ename Charter of 2002 highlights the importance of interpretation at cultural heritage sites as an educational resource. Finally, a third example can be drawn from the more recent European Landscape Convention (2004), widely referenced by archaeologists and heritage scholars working Public Education and Archaeology: Disciplining Through Education across Europe, which prioritizes education and public awareness in Chap. II, Article 6 of the Convention. All three can be intertextually linked to broader European Union initiatives, such as the Lifelong Learning Programme: Education and Training Opportunities for All, established in 1997 by the European Commission, and the Strategic Framework for European Cooperation in Education and Training 2020, developed in 2009. Finally, it is worth noting that the World Heritage Centre also operates an educative strand, which includes the international network, Forum UNESCO: Universities and Heritage, and the World Heritage Education Programme, launched in 1994 (for further information on the World Heritage Education Programme, please visit http://whc.unesco.org/en/wheducation/). Key Issues/Current Debates Although many of the debates and issues observed within the arena of public education have much in common with those that surround “community archaeology,” “ethics,” and the “politics of display,” they are worth reiterating here as education is one of the most public and – importantly – authoritative domains through which archaeological knowledge is communicated (Hamilakis 2004: 296). A key reason for its prevalence in these debates is that “education” is often argued to be a vital avenue through which particular messages about the past are passed onto the public, thus touching upon topics of power, control, and authority (see Smith &Waterton 2009; Waterton 2010). A number of commentators have created models that capture the way education figures within the wider remit of archaeology, such as Nick Merriman and Cornelius Holtorf, though it should be noted that their explanations are aimed at public archaeology more generally. For example, Merriman (2004) introduces the “deficit model” and the “multiple perspectives model,” with public education playing a significant role in the former by virtue of its ability to inform. This roughly accords with Holtorf’s (2007) “education model” and “public relations model,” both of which similarly rest upon a unidirectional flow of 6191 P information from archaeologist to public. Quite distinct from these essentially closed processes are Merriman’s “multiple perspective model” and Holtorf’s “democratic model,” both of which open up the dialogical relations such that communication – between archaeologists and the public – becomes two way. As Matsuda and Okamura (2011: 13) have recently argued, [f]rom this viewpoint, archaeological education does not differ much from engagement with different pasts, in that both approaches need and encourage dialogues between archaeologists and members of the public. That said, there is still a tendency to assume an educational stance that veers closer to the “deficit model” or “public relations model” within the archaeological discipline. Certainly this is the case at the policy level, although these days there are an impressive array of case studies that can be drawn upon to suggest otherwise, some of which are detailed below. Those case studies aside, it can be argued that at the broader level, individuals and groups that stand outside of the discipline are rarely given a role in defining messages about the past; rather, they are seen as recipients of said information. Public education, in this guise, becomes something that is done for the public instead of something that is done with them. Holtorf, building upon an argument originally posited by John Cole in 1980, remarks that this sort of approach to teaching people about the past becomes little more than a branding exercise, through which the fostering of a belief in the necessity of its preservation in turn fosters a belief in the necessity of the discipline itself (Holtorf 2007: 155; see also Simpson 2009). Nowhere has this been more powerfully argued than in Denis Byrne’s article Buddhist Stupa and Thai Social Practice, in which he states: [t]he call for public education has been a recurrent theme in the literature of archaeological heritage management (Byrne 1991), where both Western and non-Western archaeologists see it as an antidote to ‘indifference’ and ‘apathy’ towards the fate of archaeological sites. Posited here, implicitly, is an infantile condition: prior to education a void exists in the public’s mind where knowledge of and respect for the material past should be (Byrne 1995: 278). P P 6192 Public Education and Archaeology: Disciplining Through Education As Byrne (1995: 278) goes on to argue, “multiple and mature discourses on the material past already exist in the space archaeology depicts as a void. What archaeology intends, really, is not education but re-education.” Current debates about public education in archaeology are thus inclined to push for the development of alternative ways of thinking about this relationship. Here, in particular, overlaps between education debates and those occurring in broader public archaeology debates can be seen. Like Holtorf’s (2007) “democratic model,” for these debates the trick lies with changing the channels of communication and inserting the notion of “politics” into the equation. As Matsuda and Okamura (2011: 10) point out, the process becomes less about moving clusters of information from one domain into the next and more about appreciating that the past is understood – and used – differently by different social groups. What this means in practice is that there can never be one single education model and certainly not one that attempts to impose ideas onto the public. Indeed, in some scenarios, social groups will seek out archaeological education because understanding the past is central to a larger social justice claim. Here, the role of education would be a collaborative one, geared towards facilitating social, cultural, or political recognition and, perhaps, access to particular social or political resources. In other scenarios, social groups may be seeking a relaxing day out, a pleasurable experience far removed from those struggles for identity that often characterize social justice claims. Here, the role of education may well be an instructive one, which brings with it an increased awareness of a particular aspect of the past. Either way, the role of education is a powerful one, and the archaeological discipline must remain mindful and respectful of that. International Perspectives Despite the above concerns, a number of useful and positive examples from the United Kingdom and Europe can be showcased here. A wealth of archaeological digs and training programs are offered across Europe (e.g., in Spain, Greece, Italy, Macedonia, Portugal, Cyprus, and the Netherlands), many of which encourage participation from not only those enrolled in formal education but also those engaged in practices of informal and self-directed learning. Biskupin, an Iron-Age reconstruction site in Poland, is a good example of the utilization of archaeology for public education. The archaeological museum associated with the site offers a range of lessons and experimental opportunities for interested parties and organized school visits, as well as both smaller- and large-scale festivals. In Norway, a process of informal education is undertaken by participants associated with local history societies, who develop and maintain signposted cultural landscape trails that detail archaeological features (Jones 2007). These same societies are also involved in the formulation of local history walks, such as the Heimdal Local History Society in Trondheim, which arranges an annual walk that showcases the memories and experiences of older and long-established residents in the area (Jones 2007). A range of government institutions have a vested interest in the issue of public education in the UK, too, such as the Department for Culture, Media and Sport, the Department for Education and Skills, the Commission for Architecture and the Built Environment, the National Trust, English Heritage, the Portable Antiquities Scheme, and the Council for British Archaeology. In the UK context, it is possible to see clearly the interrelations between broader social policy and archaeology, particularly if one looks at the influence of the various permeations of policies aimed at alleviating disadvantage, such as the Educational Priorities Areas instigated in the UK in the 1960s, which can be glimpsed in the more recent policies of social exclusion (Smith et al. 2007). These were a form of “positive discrimination” aimed at prioritizing areas characterized by economic depression and associated issues of social exclusion. An area targeted Public Education and Archaeology: Disciplining Through Education by this and similar policies is Moston in Greater Manchester, an outcome of which has been the “I Dig Moston” archaeology project, which began in July 2005 and is now often referred to as “Dig Manchester.” This runs in conjunction with the University of Manchester and Manchester Museum and was initially initiated by a local archaeological and local history group. It is supported by the Heritage Lottery Fund and the Manchester City Council. In terms of public education, this initiative extends to school groups, community groups, and the general public and includes archaeological training in excavation techniques, finds analysis, geophysical survey, family history, and heritage trails (for further information on the Dig Manchester project, please visit http://www.digmanchester.org. uk/). More than this, the project aims at tackling deeper structural politics and realizing positive change. More recently, the Shoreditch Park community archaeology excavation, funded by the Big Lottery Funds’ “Their Past Your Future” program and managed by the Museums, Libraries and Archives Council, the Hackney Council, and Shoreditech Trust, provided opportunities for lifelong learners and schools to engage with WWII, local history, and the practices of archaeology (Simpson & Williams 2008). Future Directions Although research and commentary papers on the role of education in archaeology have started to emerge, there still remains a dearth of literature that critically and specifically engages with this topic. Not only are the formal institutions that offer archaeology education ripe for inspection but so too are the ways in which the discipline is spliced together with the public. Never has this been clearer than in today’s rapidly changing social and political climate. Add to this the new roles played by the internet and other technologies such as interactive multimedia, video, animation, virtual reality, simulations, and computer-mediated communication – what opens up is thriving intellectual space for innovative, 6193 P challenging, and sustained dialogue about the place and shape of archaeology within public education. Cross-References ▶ Community Archaeology ▶ Public Archaeology, The Move Towards References BYRNE, D. 1995. Buddhist stupa and Thai social practice. World Archaeology 27(2): 266–81. HAMILAKIS, Y. 2004. Archaeology and the politics of pedagogy. World Archaeology 36(2): 287–309. HENSON, D. 2011. The educational purpose of archaeology: a personal view from the United Kingdom, in K. Okamura & A. Matsuda (ed.) New perspectives in global public archaeology: 217–25. New York: Springer. HOLTORF, C. 2007. Can you hear me at the back? Archaeology, communication and society. European Journal of Archaeology 10: 149–65. JONES, M. 2007. The European Landscape Convention and the question of public participation. Landscape Research 32: 613–33. LEWIS, N. 2009. Education, in R. Kitchin & N. Thrift (ed.) International encyclopaedia of human geography: 389–95. Oxford: Elsevier. LIVINGSTONE, D.W. 2001. Adults informal learning: definitions, findings, gaps and future research (WALL Working Paper 21). Available at: https://tspace. library.utoronto.ca/bitstream/1807/2735/2/21adultsinformallearning.pdf (accessed 7 January 2012). MATSUDA, A. & K. OKAMURA. 2011. Introduction: new perspectives in global public archaeology, in K. Okamura & A. Matsuda (ed.) New perspectives in global public archaeology: 1–18. New York: Springer. MERRIMAN, N. 2004. Introduction: diversity and dissonance in public archaeology, in N. Merriman (ed.) Public archaeology: 1–17. London: Routledge. MOLYNEAUX, B. 1994. Introduction: the represented past, in P. Stone & B. Molyneaux (ed.) The presented past: heritage, museums and education: 1–13. London: Routledge. SIMPSON, J. 2009. Community archaeology under scrutiny. Conservation and Management of Archaeological Sites 10(1): 3–16. SMITH, L. 2004. Archaeological theory and the politics of cultural heritage. London: Routledge. SIMPSON, F. & H. WILLIAMS. 2008. Evaluating community archaeology in the UK. Public Archaeology 7(2): 69–90. P P 6194 SMITH, G., T. SMITH & T. SMITH. 2007. Whatever happened to EPAs? Part 2: educational priority areas – 40 years on. Forum 49(1 & 2): 141–56. SMITH, L. & E. WATERTON. 2009. Heritage, communities and archaeology. London: Duckworth. STONE, P. 2004. Introduction: education and the historic environment into the twenty-first century, in D. Henson, P. Stone & M. Corbishly (ed.) Education and the historic environment: 1–10. London: Routledge. WATERTON, E. 2010. Politics, policy and the discourses of heritage in Britain. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. WILLCOCK, D. 2004. Kilmartin House Trust, in D. Henson, P. Stone & M. Corbishly (ed.) Education and the historic environment: 213–19. London: Routledge. Further Reading HENSON, D., P. STONE & M. CORBISHLY. (ed.) 2004. Education and the historic environment. London: Routledge. HOLTORF, C. 2007. Can you hear me at the back? Archaeology, communication and society. European Journal of Archaeology 10: 149–65. JAMESON, J.H. (ed.) 1997. Presenting the archaeology to the public: digging for truths. Walnut Creek: Altamira Press. LITTLE, B. J. 2002. Public benefits of archaeology. Gainsville: University of Florida Press. MERRIMAN, N. 2004. Public archaeology. London: Routledge. OKAMURA, K. & A. MATSUDA. (ed.) 2011. New perspectives in global public archaeology. New York: Springer. Public Humanities and Cultural Heritage Steven Lubar John Nicholas Brown Center for Public Humanities and Cultural Heritage, Brown University, Providence, RI, USA Brief Definition of the Topic Public humanists – public historians, oral historians, folklorists, curators and museum educators, public art administrators, cultural media producers, and cultural policy planners, as well as cultural heritage workers – encourage the public’s participation in the creation of meaning about history, art, and culture. They do this in Public Humanities and Cultural Heritage many ways: sometimes as mediators between the academy and the public, interpreting the work of scholars for the public; sometimes as facilitators of public engagement with culture; and sometimes producing cultural work on behalf of communities. Public humanists work with academic humanists, communities, community cultural organizations, and individuals to explore, preserve, understand, and make use of cultural heritage, values, beliefs, knowledge, and traditions, promoting a shared examination of culture, art, and history to encourage civic engagement. Public humanists, like workers in the cognate fields of public anthropology and public sociology, strike a balance between serving as translators for the work of academic humanists, on the one hand, and as the spokespeople for the cultural work of communities, on the other. The work of translation (or serving as public intellectuals themselves) represents a traditional approach to the field. Serving as spokespeople for communities, or in Gramsci’s term as organic intellectuals, represents the other end of the spectrum. Most public humanists position themselves somewhere in between these extremes, preferring words like “engagement” to describe their interaction with the public. They provide ways to connect academic and public knowledge, thus creating new understandings. Public humanities provides a useful theoretical framework for work in cultural heritage and a useful expertise on the balance and merging of academic, community, and personal cultures. Its focus on community serves to put the work of cultural heritage into a larger context by framing heritage as part of the ongoing, contested, creation of meaning about the past and about contemporary culture. It connects cultural heritage to both the lives and memories of community members and to community institutions, as well as to academic work. It can open up discussion of community, too often taken as given in cultural heritage work, by asking questions about the nature of community and the relationship of community and culture. Public humanities can also provide a broader understanding of culture, allowing for greater Public Involvement in the Preservation and Conservation of Archaeology integration of intangible and tangible cultural heritage with current concerns by subsuming them under the heading of community cultural production. Its focus on public engagement, on sharing authority with communities, grounds cultural heritage work in cultural policy and ongoing cultural production. And its insistence on the role of community institutions allows for community building that creates longer-term sustainability for cultural heritage work. Cross-References ▶ Cultural Heritage and Communities ▶ Cultural Heritage and the Public ▶ Heritage and Public Policy ▶ Public Archaeology, The Move Towards 6195 P protection of historical resources and to generate enduring public support for archaeology. Involvement of the nonprofessional public as participants and volunteers in background and archival research, survey, and excavation and as oral history/local knowledge informants, spokespersons, and youth and school program facilitators is widespread, and there is an understanding in the discipline that the goals of public involvement in archaeology can be guided to the best effect by professional archaeologists. Since archaeological resources cannot by their nature “belong” to a living person and because most projects are supported by public funds, archaeologists have a duty to make discoveries available to the public in museums and other venues such as on-site tours, television, newspaper and magazine articles, movies, blogs, and websites, as well as actively engaging the public in hands-on activities when possible. Further Reading BATE, J. (ed.) 2010. The public value of the humanities. London and New York: Bloomsbury Academic. COMMISSION ON THE HUMANITIES. 1980. The humanities in American life: report of the Commission on the Humanities. Berkeley: University of California Press. HYLLAND ERIKSEN, T. 2006. Engaging anthropology: the case for a public presence. Oxford and New York: Berg. Public Involvement in the Preservation and Conservation of Archaeology Elizabeth Anderson Comer EAC/Archaeology, Inc., Baltimore, MD, USA Introduction In the 1970s and 1980s, archaeology began to enlist the knowledge and interest of the public. Today, community participation in archaeological activities and engaging the interest of the public is widely seen as a necessary and useful way to enhance preservation and Definition Public archaeology is archaeology undertaken with, for, and, or about the general populace. A. Matsuda and K. Okamura aptly define public archaeology as a “subject that examines the relationship between archaeology and the public, and then seeks to improve it” (2011: 4). Within the ever-expanding definition of public archaeology, there are many subfields: archaeological investigations undertaken for the public, archaeological investigations undertaken with the support of the public, archaeological policies, public education and archaeology, politics and archaeology, archaeology and the antiquity market, ethnicity and archaeology, public involvement in archaeology, archaeology and the law, the economics of archaeology, and cultural/ heritage tourism and archaeology (Merrimen 2004: inside cover). Involving the public(s) in all aspects of the archaeological process enriches the archaeological study and the public(s). It is thus a reflexive process and one that ultimately can make archaeology more relevant to the public. P P 6196 Public Involvement in the Preservation and Conservation of Archaeology Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples The Global Emergence of Public Archaeology In the United States, the Antiquities Act of 1906 ensured that archaeological materials on lands under the stewardship of the federal government would provide public benefit by requiring that all artifacts located on public land be donated to a museum. The National Historic Preservation Act of 1966 (NHPA), the National Environmental Policy Act of 1969 (NEPA), and the Native American Grave Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGRPA) each contain a legal requirement for public involvement. Prior to the 1970s, however, archaeologists themselves generally avoided public involvement in excavation and interpretation. In 1972, Charles McGimsey coined the term “public archaeology” stating that there is no such thing as “private archaeology” (1972: 5). Beginning in 1975, the city of Alexandria, Virginia became the first US municipality to establish a city archaeology program, and in 1977 Pamela Cressey became city archaeologist. Alexandria archaeology has from its early days included the public in all aspects of excavation and interpretation including public participation through volunteer work, education in the museum, and outreach activities (Cressey 2005: 22). In 1981, University of Maryland archaeologist Mark Leone began Archaeology in Annapolis, a public archaeology program and field school which incorporated public archaeology training into the traditional field school format for the first time. Field school students were taught to give tours and interpret findings to the public as a routine part of their training (Leone & Potter 1984). In 1983, Baltimore Mayor William Donald Schaefer, realizing that archaeology could be used as a powerful tool to bring tourists to a struggling city neighborhood, utilized archaeology as community political activism for the first time. The author, a city archaeologist, hired a theater director to teach crewmembers how to script and present tours to the public. Volunteers of all ages were welcomed and trained to excavate as well as participate in all aspects of the investigation. Press events including in-flight magazine articles, almost daily newspaper articles and television news coverage, a daily radio show, and a front page article in the Wall Street Journal (Lubin 1985) brought public archaeology to a heretofore unknown level of exposure and spawned similar programs across the country (Comer 1998: 12). Thirty years later public involvement in the archaeological process is considered essential. By the fourth quarter of the twentieth century, countries such as Britain, Canada, and Australia were following a parallel course, adding their own innovations. In 1993, Britain’s Channel 4 began airing Time Team, a weekly series following a team of archaeologists digging a different site each week. The series attracted a large and passionate audience in the UK and overseas. In Australia, the movement toward greater public involvement in archaeology moved to the forefront of archaeological issues (MacKay & Karskens 1999: 110). As one might expect, “public archaeology has developed neither uniformly nor equally in every country” (Matsuda & Okamura 2011: 7). Around the world, archaeologists are linking what had been a purely academic field to the fascination that the general public has with the past. In some countries, archaeology has become well integrated with the general education provided to students. For example, in Japan, the public, and especially school students, enthusiastically participate in activities at on-site visitors centers, which include opportunities for students to make a replicas of artifacts and contribute to the interpretative process. Archaeologists throughout the world are innovating, devising and testing methods to involve the public. Public archaeology is thus “a commitment made by archaeologists to making archaeology more relevant to contemporary society” (Matsuda & Okamura 2011: 4). Public archaeology provides a unique opportunity for non-archaeologists to connect with the past. Successful public archaeology programs have demonstrated broad appeal in various age groups and ethnicities (Cressey 2005; Leone & Potter 1984; Comer 1998). It is clear that public archaeology programs can develop local, regional, national, and international constituencies for archaeology and deepen an understanding of the need to protect archaeological sites through conservation and preservation. “Public” and Archaeology Cross-References ▶ Avocational Archaeology ▶ Community Archaeology ▶ Conservation and Management of Archaeological Sites ▶ Cultural Heritage and the Public ▶ Cultural Heritage Management: Building Bridges ▶ Cultural Heritage Outreach ▶ Heritage Tourism and the Marketplace ▶ Leone, Mark P. (Historical Archaeology) ▶ Leone, Mark P. (Theory) ▶ McGimsey III, Charles R. ▶ Plimoth Plantation: Public Archaeology ▶ “Public” and Archaeology ▶ Public Archaeology, The Move Towards ▶ Public Education and Archaeology: Disciplining through Education ▶ Public Humanities and Cultural Heritage References COMER, E. 1998. Politics, publicity and the public: urban archaeology in the public eye, in K. Smardz & S. Smith (ed.) Young hands on the past archaeology education for grades K-12. New York: AltaMira Press. CRESSEY, P. 2005. Community archaeology in Alexandria, Virginia, in L.A. De Cunzo & J.H. Jameson Jr (ed.) Unlocking the past: celebrating historical archaeology in North America: 1-17. Gainesville: University of Florida Press. LEONE, M. & P. POTTER. 1984. Archaeological Annapolis: a guide to seeing and understanding three centuries of change. Annapolis (MD): Historic Annapolis Foundation. LUBIN, J. 1985. Archaeologist digs in Baltimore, helps city unearth its past. Wall Street Journal, 25 February 1985, p. D1, D22. MACKAY, R. & G. KARSKENS. 1999. Historical archaeology in Australia: historical or hysterical? Crisis or creative awakening? Australasian Historical Archaeology 17: 110-15. MATSUDA, A. & K. OKAMURA. (ed.) 2011. New perspectives in global public archaeology. New York: Springer. MCGIMSEY, C.R. 1972. Public archaeology. New York: Seminar Press. MERRIMAN, N. (ed.) 2004. Public archaeology. New York: Routledge. 6197 P Further Reading LITTLE, B. (ed.) 2002. The public benefits of archaeology. Gainesville: University of Florida Press. MOSHENSKA, G. & S. DHANJAL. (ed.) 2011. Community archaeology: themes, methods and practices. Oxford: Oxbow Books. NORTH, M. 2007. Protecting the past for the public good: archaeology and Australian heritage law. Unpublished PhD dissertation, University of Sydney. SABLOFF, J. 2008. Archaeology matters: action archaeology in the modern world. Walnut Creek: Left Coast Press. SCHADLA-HALL, T. (ed.) 2000 - present. Public Archaeology (journal). Leeds: Maney Publishing. SIMPSON, F. & H. WILLIAMS. 2008. Evaluating community archaeology in the UK. Public archaeology 7: 69-90. ZIMMERMAN, L. 2003. Presenting the past. Lanham: AltaMira Press. “Public” and Archaeology Xurxo Ayán-Vila and Alfredo González-Ruibal Institute of Heritage Sciences (Incipit), Spanish National Research Council (CSIC), Santiago de Compostela, Spain Introduction and Definition Construction works appeal people all over the world. In Mediterranean Europe, a typical image is that of a group of old people organizing improvised gatherings to talk behind the fence that protects public works. This kind of works is called “public” because they are funded by the money contributed by citizens, that is, society. Yet they are also public because these activities have their public, as any artistic performance or installation that takes place in the space of sociability par excellence of modernity: the street. The prevalent notion of public has much to do with this image: a passive audience, who is separated from the events by a visible or invisible barrier and is happy consuming whatever is offered to them. However, one of the meanings of “public,” according to the Oxford English Dictionary, has deeper implications: “concerning the people as a whole.” P P 6198 “Public” and Archaeology Key Issues In addition, the New Museology and the growing offer of archaeological sites open to the public provided only closed narratives that were simply consumed by a certain kind of public (Merriman 1991). It is important to remember, also, that most countries continued to be entrenched in the classic model of academic communication – by archaeologists for archaeologists (Venclová 2007). The transition from the educative model to the democratic model had its origins in the 1970s in the United Kingdom, with a remarkable development later in the United States, Canada, and Australia, where there was already an important sensibility toward the interpretation and promotion of cultural and natural heritage (McManamon 1991). During the 1970s and 1980s, the scope of interaction between archaeology and the public broadened to include all sectors of society and to actively involve amateurs in the archaeological research process. It is in this context where public archaeology, as we understand it today, emerged (Schadla-Hall 1999; Ascherson 2000; Merriman 2004; Moshenska 2009). During the 1980s and 1990s, archaeology became public spectacle, a resource to transform depressed regions, a tool for the promotion of tourism, and a privileged arena to perform “living history.” Following the technical language adopted by heritage managers, the potential public of these attractions is identified with the tourist/amateur who spends money to achieve enjoyable experiences set in a (pre)historic scenario (Stone & Planel 1999). This potential public is the one who crosses over to the other side of the fence for a reasonable price. However, this archaeology still does not “concern the people as a whole.” The development of post-processual theory added cultural relativism, new ethical requirements, and multivocality to the agenda, as well as the de facto integration of society in all its complexity into the archaeological discourse (Hodder 2008). This brought a radical qualitative change in contemporary social archaeology: A globalized, multicultural, and complex society encompasses different publics and different approaches to heritage (McManamon 1991; Hamilakis 2011; Pyburn 2011). The generalization of the Internet during From Spectator to Stakeholder From Renaissance antiquarianism, archaeology has traveled a long way to become a scientific discipline and to accept that it has a responsibility toward its public. Thus, during the phase of institutionalization of archaeology as an academic discipline during the second half of the nineteenth century, an elite of intellectuals contributed, from universities and museums, to legitimize the bourgeois nation-state through teaching, writing scholarly books and articles, and developing regional and national museums. During this period, archaeology’s main strategy of communication with society was the so-called educative model (Holtorf 2007a: Chapter 6, 2007b). This model was based on the communication of the results of scientific research to a learned public, which was knowledgeable about the subject. The purpose was to educate patriot-citizens, so that they would see the past in the same terms as archaeologists. During the first decades of the twentieth century, this model continued to be in force. Experts and bureaucrats appropriated archaeological information for themselves, acted as custodians of the archaeological heritage, and adopted a paternalistic attitude, disregarding the interests of a budding civil society. The end of the Second World War and the consolidation of the Welfare State would provide the material and ideological conditions needed to insert archaeology in the dynamics of mass media. The dissemination of archaeological knowledge started to be considered as a basic function of the management of archaeological heritage. This change is epitomized in the figure of Sir Mortimer Wheeler, whose frequent appearances on TV evinced a novel compromise with the general public. However, this compromise still had its limits. The pioneer book by Charles R. McGimsey Public Archaeology (1972) was addressed only to professional archaeologists, heritage managers, and citizens interested in protecting archaeological remains in their neighborhoods. The immense majority of society still remained on the other side of the fence, as a passive observer of archaeological projects. “Public” and Archaeology the 1990s and the emergence of social networks in the 2000s helped channel the global demand for cultural heritage by different and evergrowing social groups (Matsuda & Okamura 2011). This context partially explains the expansion of public archaeology, materialized in the creation of an international journal (Public Archaeology) and postgraduate courses. Public archaeology today is also influenced by the postmodern end of grand narratives, and the subsequent popularization of microhistory, cultural history, and “history from below.” In the same line, the “archaeology from below” (Faulkner 2000) has evolved to overcome the unidirectional character of the discipline, which has been rooted hitherto in a noninclusive communication model. The conventional approach considers the interaction with the public an area of expertise within archaeology an optional component in scientific projects, rather than an integral part of the discipline. An archaeology from below, on the contrary extends the social relations of archaeology by involving all publics in the process of knowledge production from the beginning. These publics include now different stakeholders, local communities, and indigenous groups who have an intimate and long-standing concern for specific archaeological artifacts, sites, and landscapes. Some of these publics, such as indigenous groups in the Americas, are very vocal and critical and directly question archaeologists and heritage managers. Grassroots movements of political dissent, such as those that agitated Spain in 2011, are also an index of the changing attitude of the public: People revolt against the passive role (as consumers of politics, industrial products, or culture) to which they have been relegated by the hegemonic capitalist order. New concepts, such as archaeological ethnography (Hamilakis 2011) or community archaeology (Marshall 2001), intend to express a more active and democratic way of dealing with these stakeholders. There is no longer a target public for archaeological knowledge, but communities, both real and virtual, rooted and global (Matsuda & Okamura 2011). From this perspective, it is assumed that archaeologists have to relinquish partial control of their projects (Marshall 2001) 6199 P and accommodate the demands of the groups with which (sometimes for which) they are working. Of course, this attitude does not prevent tensions between archaeologists and public/stakeholders to happen. These, however, existed also before, but were negated or unacknowledged. These tensions are not necessarily negative: They can be productive as well and lead to new perceptions of the past and new modes of engagement (Witmore 2009). In fact, the new understanding of “public” also entails a new notion of site: Hamilakis (2011: 406) regards archaeological sites as “a perfect borderland and an ideal zone of contact,” which can lead to conflict and confrontation, “but also to detailed, sensitive, ethnographic discourses and perhaps subsequent dialogues and collaborations.” From Stakeholder to Witness It is widely admitted today that granting public access to historical knowledge is rarely neutral and risk-free: Politics is always involved to some extent and conflict is always a possibility. This is particularly the case when archaeology delves into a dark past that has been concealed for political reasons. By making (hidden) things public, archaeology can destabilize hegemonic discourses that distort the way in which history is told. This meaning of “public” has become increasingly relevant in archaeology during the last two decades, with the growing awareness of the role played by the discipline in conflict and post-conflict situations (cf. Starzmann 2008). In countries that have suffered from war, civil and ethnic conflict, dictatorship or colonialism, it is not enough with doing research that increases social knowledge about the past. It is important to confront recent history critically and provide the tools so that people can see the past in a different way. Making a dark past public is not an easy task: Some people may not want it to be studied because they are related to the perpetrators, because it brings up memories that are too fresh and painful, or because they do not want to abandon the safety of sanitized official narratives. Archaeologists working in places of conflict and trauma have to be ready to face a divided P P 6200 community and to take sides. Even when people widely agree that dealing with a negative past is necessary, controversies always arise regarding how to investigate it, how to display it publicly, and how to tell the story. In the archaeology of older periods or less controversial issues, to become part of the audience or not is to a large extent optional. However, this is not the case with the archaeology of contemporar violence. People feel addressed and their beliefs questioned. This is because collective traumas are public in the first OED sense: They concern the people as a whole. It could be argued that by unveiling the traces of atrocities, archaeology forces us to become witnesses by proxy. In that, the discipline works like what has been called “art of witness” or “testimonial art” (MacLear 1999). This is not only the art produced by witnesses themselves, but also by artists after traumatic events with the purpose of manifesting the unsayable. By forcing people to look, testimonial art and archaeology produce the same effect: They transform the public into a kind of witness – a public, therefore, with a moral responsibility. In recent decades, archaeology has become a sort of “art of witness” in different contexts. Three of the most interesting are Germany in relation to the Nazi past; Spain and the legacy of the civil war; and Argentina and the “dirty war” waged by the military. Despite being recent historical episodes, archaeology has played an outstanding role in exposing mass violations of human rights and bringing to the public arena what used to be concealed or restricted to academic debates. Germany was one of the first countries where archaeology was put at the service of making a difficult past visible. After a generation of silence, the children of the Nazi generation decided to break the veil of silence that covered the fascist period and began a movement of recovery of historical memory which has had lasting effects in the country (Koshar 2000). Many of the popular history projects had an important archaeological component: the documentation, in everyday spaces, of traces of Nazism that had been rendered socially or physically invisible. One of the landmarks in this “Public” and Archaeology process was the excavation in 1987 of the former Gestapo headquarters in the heart of Berlin (Bernbeck & Pollock 2007), which had passed virtually unnoticed in a vacant lot. The excavations, originally carried out by amateurs, captured wide public attention and provoked intense political debates. Since then, other traces of the Nazi past have been investigated in Berlin and identified with signs, so that people can be aware of this hidden layer of the city’s history (Braun 2002). The goal of the project is not just to make things public, but to keep them so. The question is: How to sustain public attention in a traumatic past? In Argentina, the search for the 30,000 desaparecidos (“disappeared”) during the military regime started only 2 years after the end of the dictatorship (1976–1982). Forensic work has been later complemented with other initiatives, such as the archaeological investigation of clandestine detention centers, the study of the material culture associated to the desaparecidos, and the public display of sites of torture and prisons (see examples in Funari et al. 2010). All these projects have made the crimes of the dictatorship public, but they have also been fraught with controversy: whether to recover or not buried human remains (Crossland 2000), how to turn detention centers into museums, what narrative has to be offered (Parsons 2011), etc. These are debates in which archaeologists and other scholars have just one voice among many others (victims, relatives, authorities, and associations). The Argentinian case poses questions that are pertinent for public archaeology as a whole: Who has the right to decide how to make the past public? How can a dark past be made public without trivialization? What kind of public is a victim or a victim’s relative? If the Germans had to wait for a generation to make a painful history public and the Argentineans only a few years, the delay in Spain has been much greater: Three generations passed since the beginning of the war (1936–1939) for the Spaniards to be capable to fully address the legacy of war and dictatorship. As in the other two cases, it was grassroots associations that took the initiative and since 2000, they have excavated – with the help of “Public” and Archaeology archaeologists and forensic scientists – around a thousand unmarked graves, mostly containing the remains of some of the 150,000 people assassinated by the supporters of General Franco (Ferrándiz 2006; Renshaw 2011). Exhumations were part of a renewed interest in the history of the conflict and the dictatorship. Thus, in addition to the recovery of buried bodies, different projects have been developed on concentration camps, prisons, monuments, and battlefields (González-Ruibal 2007). The process has led to a significant shift in the collective memory of Spaniards and has triggered important political and legal changes at the national level. It has also produced a greater awareness of the (material) legacy of the dictatorship. Although archaeologists, as in the German case, have not been the protagonists, they have decisively contributed to making things public, by bringing in scientific methods and modes of dissemination. The exhumation of mass graves and other activities have not been free of bitter controversies, but these have also helped to clarify the political panorama of Spain, by revealing the extent to which the dictatorial past still conditions the democratic present. Future Directions Despite great advances during the last three decades, academic traditions continue to privilege the educative model in archaeology, whose discourses are neither directed to the general public or local communities. The same can be said of different projects devised from above (such as those promoted by administrations), in which the public is conceived as the human resources needed to fill cultural containers. From these parameters, it is difficult that a public archaeology (sensu Shadla-Hall 2006), and even less a community archaeology (sensu Marshall 2001), can be consolidated. Besides, the privatization of archaeology at a global scale promotes commercial archaeology, which is more profitable, but does not usually take into account amateurs and citizens in the process of archaeological research. 6201 P However, if we have learnt something in recent years, it is that publics can be very active and take the initiative in process that involves historical memory or the assertion of cultural rights: The things that concern the people as a whole elicit passionate responses. This has been proved in the three cases mentioned here: the archaeology of dictatorship in Germany, Argentina, and Spain. With the global spread of democracy and minority rights, publics are more varied and vocal than ever. Instead of feeling threatened by them, archaeology should face the challenge of engaging in social debates and political controversies. The alternative to this is remaining in an ivory tower and become less and less socially relevant. Cross-References ▶ Archaeological Stewardship ▶ Community Archaeology ▶ Public Archaeology, The Move Towards References ASCHERSON, N. 2000. Editorial. Journal of Public Archaeology 1(1): 1-4. BERNBECK, R. & S. POLLOCK, S. 2007. Grabe, wo du stehst! An archaeology of perpetrators, in Y. Hamilakis & P. Duke (ed.) Archaeology and capitalism. From ethics to politics: 217-34. Walnut Creek (CA): Left Coast Press. BRAUN, M.S. (ed.) 2002. Spuren des Terrors. Traces of terror. Stätten national-sozialistischer Gewaltherrschaft in Berlin. Berlin: Braun. CROSSLAND, Z. 2000. Buried lives. Forensic archaeology and the disappeared in Argentina. Archaeological Dialogues 7(2): 146-59. FAULKNER, N. 2000. Archaeology from below. Journal of Public Archaeology (1): 21-33. FERRÁNDIZ, F. 2006. The return of civil war ghosts: the ethnography of exhumations in contemporary Spain. Anthropology Today 22(3): 7-12. FUNARI, P.P., A. ZARANKIN & M. SALERNO. (ed.) 2010. Archaeology of repression and resistance in Latin America. New York: Springer. GONZÁLEZ-RUIBAL, A. 2007. Making things public: archaeologies of the Spanish civil war. Public Archaeology 6(4): 203-26. HAMILAKIS, Y. 2011. Archaeological ethnography: a multitemporal meeting ground for archaeology and P P 6202 anthropology. Annual Review of Anthropology 40: 399-414. HODDER, I. 2008. Multivocality and social archaeology, in J. Hab, C. Fawcett & J.M. Matsunaga (ed.) Evaluating multiple narratives beyond nationalist, colonialist, imperialist archaeologies: 196-200. New York: Springer. HOLTORF, C. 2007a. Archaeology is a brand. The meaning of archaeology in contemporary popular culture. Oxford: Archaeopress. - 2007b. Can you hear me at the back? Archaeology, communication and society. European Journal of Archaeology 10 (2-3): 149-65. KOSHAR, R. 2000. From monuments to traces. Artifacts of German memory (1870-1990). Berkeley: University of California Press. MACLEAR, K. 1999. Beclouded visions. HiroshimaNagasaki and the art of witness. Albany (NY): SUNY Press. MCMANAMON, F.P. 1991. The many publics for archaeology. American Antiquity 56(1): 121-30. MCGIMSEY, C. 1972. Public archaeology. New York: Seminar Press. MARSHALL, Y. 2001. What is community archaeology? World Archaeology 34(2): 211-19. MATSUDA, A. & K. OKAMURA. 2011. Introduction: new perspectives in global public archaeology, in K. Okamura & A. Matsura. (ed.) New perspectives in global public archaeology: 1-18. London and New York: Springer. MERRIMAN, N. 1991. Beyond the glass case. The past, the heritage and the public in Britain. Leicester: Leicester University Press. - 2004. Introduction: diversity and dissonance in public archaeology, in N. Merriman (ed.) Public archaeology: 1-18. London: Routledge MOSHENSKA, G. 2009. What is public archaeology? Present Pasts 1: 46-8. PARSONS, E. 2011. Espacio para el recuerdo: memoria colectiva y reconfiguración del disputado espacio de la ESMA de Argentina. 452 F: revista de teorı́a de la literatura y literatura comparada 4: 29-51. Available at: http://www.raco.cat/index.php/452F/article/view/ 243579/326331. PYBURN, K.A. 2011. Engaged archaeology: whose community? Which public?, in K. Okamura & A. Matsuda (ed.) New perspectives in global public archaeology: 29-41. London and New York: Springer. RENSHAW, L. 2011. Exhuming loss: memory, materiality and mass graves of the Spanish civil war. Walnut Creek (CA): LeftCoast. STONE, P.G. & G. PLANEL. (ed.) 1999. The constructed past: experimental archaeology, education and the public. London and New York: Routledge. SCHADLA-HALL, T. 1999. Editorial: public archaeology. Journal of European Archaeology 2(2): 147-58. - 2006. Public archaeology in the twenty-first century, in R. Layton, S. Shennan & P.G. Stone (ed.) A future for archaeology: the past in the present. 75-82. London: UCL Press. Publication in Field Archaeology STARZMANN, M.T. 2008. Cultural imperialism and heritage politics in the event of armed conflict: Prospects for an ‘activist archaeology’. Archaeologies 4(3): 368-89. VENCLOVÁ, N. 2007. Communication within archaeology: do we understand each other? Journal of European Archaeology 10(2-3): 207-22. WITMORE, C. 2009. Prolegomena to open pasts: on archaeological memory practices. Archaeologies 5(3): 511-45. Further Reading COLWELL-CHANTHAPHONH, J.S. & T.J. FERGUSON. (eds.) 2008. Collaboration in archaeological practice: engaging descendant communities. AltaMira Press. DERRY, L. & M. MALLOY (ed.). 2003. Archaeologist and local communities: partners in exploring the past. Washington (DC): Society for American Archaeology. HIDALGO, E.B. 2012. Argentina’s former secret detention centres: between demolition, modification and preservation. Journal of Material Culture 17(2): 191–206. MATSUDA, A. 2004. The concept of the “public” and the aims of public archaeology. Papers from the Institute of Archaeology 16: 66-76. OKAMURA, K. & A. MATSUDA. (ed.) 2011. New perspectives in global public archaeology. London and New York: Springer. SMITH, C. & H.M. WOBST. (ed.). 2004. Indigenous archaeologies: decolonising theory and practice. London: Routledge. SMITH, L.J. & E. WATERTON. 2009. Communities and archaeology. London: Duckworth. Publication in Field Archaeology Martin Carver Department of Archaeology, University of York, York, UK Introduction and Definition Every publication in any field is designed for the people who are intended to read it. Archaeological fieldwork is carried out for different sectors and sponsors and it therefore generates a variety of output. A recent overview proposed eight different modes of publication designed to serve eight different types of “consumer” (Fig. 1). Publication in Field Archaeology MODE 6203 CONTENTS MEDIUM P CLIENTS 1. Field Records Site records, primary data Hard copies Sponsor, Other researchers 2. Lab Report Commissioned studies and analyses e-repository Sponsor, other researchers 3. Client Report Description of the investigation and results Hard copy with limited distribution [“grey literature”] Sponsors 4. Research Report Description of the investigation, Article (hard copy or onfindings, their interpretation and line), monograph with context multiple distribution Researchers 5. Popular book Abbreviated research report book The public Magazine articles, site guide, TV programmes The public 6. Popular output Selected significant aspects 7. Display Selected significant aspects Exhibitions in museums, The public 8. Presentation/ Interpretation The site and its surviving parts; local trails Conserved monuments; display panels;AV The public Publication in Field Archaeology, Fig. 1 Modes of publication (After Carver 2009: 316) Key Issues The preparation of a field record (no. 1) is a primary duty of the fieldworker, whether engaged in CRM or research. These records are generally stored in an archive within the museum that retains the assemblages of artifacts and biota. In principle, records and assemblages are public property and remain accessible in perpetuity. In practice museums often find this difficult to achieve but hope to make the material available to researchers and special interest groups. The increasing range of records and material retained by excavators combined with the enormous quantity of material generated by CRM is creating a major problem of long-term storage for industrialized countries. This is one reason for the development of the online lab report (or Field Report) (no. 2), which sets out to present a complete account of the main discoveries from fieldwork in a digital form. This will include summaries of the primary records, an album of selected photographs, an atlas of the main spatial form and relationships, site journals and interpretations made on site, and analyses made in the laboratory after fieldwork was completed. These analyses may include studies of stratigraphy, artifacts, animal bones, plant remains, and scientific dating. In many cases the specialist reports in their original form may appear only in this medium, their essence being summarized for printed forms. The Archaeological Data Service (http://ads.ahds.ac.uk) is a major service provider in this field, hosting online archives for research projects as well as many thousands of client reports from CRM operations which are otherwise inaccessible. The production of a Client Report (no. 3) is normally a condition of contract for the CRM firm that undertakes fieldwork in advance of development. The “client” is the organization that paid for the archaeological work. In regulated countries this is often local or national government. In deregulated countries it is more usually the organization that is undertaking the development; archaeology is included in its costs. In both cases, the clients or their consultants provide strict instructions about the content of the report and the timetable for its delivery. These contents include details of the location, the work done there, the methods used, and the discoveries made. In the current profession, many of the methods are standardized and repeated in successive client reports. The value of the archaeological discoveries themselves is expressed in terms of their significance, a measure of how far they have added to knowledge. However, CRM projects P P 6204 rarely include research time, and so client reports can rarely expect to explore this significance in the wider context of modern research. For this reason, the majority of client reports remain as “grey literature” delivered to the client or at best placed in an online archive where it is generally accessible (see above). Research Reports (no. 4) are intended to report the most significant new discoveries of the day. They are, accordingly, selective in two senses: first, only fieldwork productive of important research is eligible for consideration, and of that, only carefully selected data and succinct argument are appropriate for publication. Research publication is subject to peer review, undertaken on behalf of publishers to ensure the highest standards of integrity and reasoning. The criteria for acceptance usually run along the lines: “Was there a research question?” “Did it need to be addressed?” “Are the results clearly presented, validated, and discussed?” and “Is the conclusion credible?” There have always been numerous other forms of open-ended, unspecific, imaginative, and non-scientific writing about the past, but few have been successfully applied to the publication of results of fieldwork. The current research community in archaeology overwhelmingly prefers paper-copy publication in journals or monographs over datarich digital repositories. Research publication is therefore expensive, another reason that it remains competitive and selective. It should also be noted that the main beneficiary of such selectivity is the reader. By filtering the mass of information and opinion that is generated by the archaeological community, the publishing industry hopes to select the fieldwork of most significance and most lasting value at the least cost to researchers and other readers. The content of a research report will include the basic information about the purpose of the project, the research questions that were addressed, where it took place, the theoretical basis for the design, the methods used, and the results obtained. A site model is argued on the basis of selected analyses of assemblage, space and sequence, and a free-ranging account of its context and wider significance presented in Publication in Field Archaeology a discussion section. The conclusion assesses the success in answering the questions expressed in the original Project Design, presents new ones, places the fieldwork results in history or prehistory, and announces the planned future of the archive, the site, and its environs. Members of the public, and indeed students when they are starting out, may not have the background to appreciate or assess research reports. If a field project has become well known, it may become the subject of a range of more general outputs. “Popular” books (no. 5) attempt to place the archaeological discoveries in the mainstream. Commercial publishers do a wonderful job here, usually ensuring good quality and taking the financial risk on themselves. Mainstream publishers may produce a range of summaries and pictures in magazines, newspapers, and on TV (no. 6) over which the field archaeologist generally has less control but may still welcome them on the basis that “there is no such thing as bad publicity.” Direct communication with the public is available in two other media. In exhibitions (no. 7), the findings of fieldwork may find vivid expression in a museum, where artifacts and structures and their sequence are brought together. Some sites, particularly those which have been the subject of research projects (less so those excavated in advance of development), are still conserved and may be visited by members of the public. The art of presenting sites (sometimes known as “interpretation”) is to explain to visitors what they can still see and relate what was found and what it might mean (no. 8). This is undoubtedly a form of publication and a special one since it takes place in the landscape, that historic environment which field method sets out to enhance. Cross-References ▶ Excavation Methods in Archaeology ▶ Field Method in Archaeology: Overview References CARVER, M. 2009. Archaeological investigation. London: Routledge. Pueblo Bonito Pueblo Bonito Catherine M. Cameron Department of Anthropology, University of Colorado, Boulder, CO, USA Introduction Located in Chaco Canyon, in northwest New Mexico, Pueblo Bonito is the greatest of the Chacoan “great houses” (Fig. 1). A massive stone structure built in a “D” shape, Pueblo Bonito consisted of terraced rooms reaching four or five stories tall at the rear and stepping down to a large, divided central plaza. It is known not only for its architectural beauty (Pueblo Bonito means “pretty town”) but also for the wealth of exotic artifacts found within its rooms – an abundance unparalleled at any other site in the northern Southwest. Pueblo Bonito has been extensively studied for over a century. The Hyde Exploring Expedition (1896–1899) led by George Pepper (Pepper 1920) and the National Geographic Society Expedition (1920–1927) led by Neil Judd (Judd 1954, 1964) excavated almost the entire ruin, revealing the architectural history of the site and recovering hundreds of thousands of artifacts. Archaeologists since then have made comprehensive use of Pepper’s and Judd’s work in numerous books and articles (see Neitzel 2003 for a recent compendium). Pueblo Bonito, Fig. 1 Reconstruction of Pueblo Bonito. Note the platform mounds in front of the building and the large ponderosa pine tree in the plaza. The tree was apparently an important element of plaza space at Pueblo Bonito (Courtesy of Dennis R. Holloway, Architect) 6205 P Construction began at Pueblo Bonito in the mid-ninth century and continued through the middle of the twelfth century (Lekson 1986; Windes & Ford 1996). During much of this period, Chaco Canyon was a place of extraordinary power, the focus of a large social and political system that encompassed much of the northern Southwest (northwest New Mexico, southwest Colorado, southeast Utah, and northeast Arizona) and was characterized by widely scattered great houses and their surrounding communities (Lekson 2006, 2009). Prehistoric roads radiated out across this landscape, leading into and out of great houses, suggesting an unprecedented level of connection and hierarchy in the Ancestral Pueblo world. The American Southwest is an arid region, but Chaco Canyon is especially dry and treeless. Why it was selected for monumental construction of great houses is a subject of extreme interest to scholars today. The Chaco Wash only occasionally contains water, although a slightly more favorable climate may have made the canyon more inviting when Pueblo Bonito was first constructed. However, Chaco Canyon is one of the most conspicuous landforms in the relatively flat central region of the San Juan Basin. Pueblo Bonito was not the only great house in the canyon. Seven other major great houses and many smaller great houses were strung along the north side of the canyon bottom or on the mesa to the north of the canyon. Pueblo Bonito and other great houses, both inside and outside Chaco P P 6206 Canyon, are argued to have been the homes of powerful leaders while ordinary people lived in small hamlets surrounding the great houses. This pattern was found in Chaco Canyon – houses are located primarily along the south side of Chaco Canyon, opposite Pueblo Bonito and the other great houses. Definition The sheer northern walls of Chaco Canyon provide a dramatic backdrop for Pueblo Bonito. It was built opposite “South Gap,” a break in the south canyon wall that allowed visitors a dramatic view of this impressive building. It was the first of what eventually became a cluster of great houses in the central part of the canyon that has been called “Downtown Chaco.” From the cliff-top above, the entire building appears in plan view and is still an awe-inspiring place, even though it now lies in ruin. In facing Pueblo Bonito toward the southeast, its builders were following normal Puebloan siting practices that maximized solar energy during the cold winter months. Backed up against the canyon wall, the building was also protected from northerly winter winds. Oddly, the structure was built under an enormous but precariously balanced pillar of sandstone that had split from the canyon wall. Called “Threatening Rock” by modern visitors, the distinctive rock formation was apparently an important part of the siting of the building (Stein et al. 2007). Pueblo Bonito comprised as many as 600 rooms built of finely shaped and chinked sandstone masonry. It was more than 150 m long and 100 m wide, covering almost a hectare. The final form evident today was the result of more than 300 years of construction and remodeling (Lekson 1986). The original building, constructed between about CE 860 and the early 900s, was in the style of normal domestic buildings of the time, a southeast facing arc of rooms fronted by a series of round rooms. Only this original core of rooms was a “scaled-up” version of normal Puebloan architecture: Rooms were two to four times as big as normal Puebloan rooms and included some of the earliest multistoried buildings in the Pueblo Bonito Southwest (Lekson 1986). This part of the great house was used for burial of high status individuals suggesting that the original building represented sacred space around which the rest of Pueblo Bonito was constructed (Plog & Heitman 2010). Around CE 1020, when the rear wall of this original building began to collapse, an enclosing wall of improved masonry was built around it to insure that it continued to stand (Lekson 1986: 132-4). Subsequent construction continued until the mid-1100s with extensive construction episodes in the CE 1040s and 1080s (Lekson 1986; Windes & Ford 1996). This construction expanded the original D shape of the building, adding rows of rooms adjacent to the plaza (covering some of the original round rooms), extending the “wings” of the D, and enclosing the plaza with a narrow wall of rooms. Pueblo Bonito was never a static structure, but an active and living part of Puebloan construction whose intended trajectory from creation through normal processes of decline and decay has only been arrested by modern institutional efforts at preservation. Most of the rooms that composed Pueblo Bonito were square or rectangular, but some were round. Round rooms were mostly located close to the plaza or in the plaza adjacent to the main building. Round rooms were likely the major living spaces for the leaders who inhabited Pueblo Bonito (Lekson 1986; these rooms are called “kivas” by some scholars who imply a religious use). Rectangular rooms were very large, ranging from ten to almost fifty square meters, with some variation corresponding to the distance of the room from the plaza (Lekson 1986: 51). These rooms often formed suites, indicated by positioning and connecting doorways. The presence of hearths in some plaza-facing rooms suggests that they may also have been the principal living rooms. Rooms in the rear and lower stories would have been dark and airless. These rooms may have been used for storage of food and the quantities of exotic material that apparently poured into this settlement. Some rooms have the remains of large platforms that might have served as storage shelves (Lekson 1986: 46-8). But archaeologists Pueblo Bonito have found very little direct evidence of what might have been stored. The straight side of Pueblo Bonito’s “D” was formed by a narrow block of rooms that made the plaza into an enclosed space. Inside the plaza large subterranean round rooms (13 to almost 16 m in diameter) called “great kivas” housed ceremonial activities. Great kivas were already important ceremonial buildings long before construction at Pueblo Bonito began, but developed a distinctive Chacoan form in Chaco Canyon during the eleventh century (Van Dyke 2007). As many as four great kivas may have been built in Pueblo Bonito’s plaza at various times during its history, two or three of which may have been in use at one time. They were built on either side of a north-south wall that divided the plaza into eastern and western halves, a duality that has other manifestations in the Chacoan world. Van Dyke (2007: 117-21) explores the ceremonial activities that may have taken place in Chaco Canyon’s great kivas (others were found at other great houses or away from great houses in other parts of the canyon). In front of the plaza are two large-walled mounds built up of trash and other material and separated by a road or pathway that may have led directly to an opening into the plaza wall (Fig. 1). These trash mounds may have served as ceremonial platforms, as they were covered with a plaster surface at least during part of their use-life (Lekson 1986: 143-4; Windes & Mathien 1987: 618-34). As part of Downtown Chaco, Pueblo Bonito was part of an extensively built landscape that included not only other great houses but also roads, staircases, earthen causeways, and other features (Lekson 1999, 2007, 2009; Stein et al. 2007). Prehistoric roads extended from a great house on top of the mesa north of Pueblo Bonito (called Pueblo Alto), descending into the canyon at a wide formal staircase just around the corner from Pueblo Bonito. Other roads descended from the north mesa at other points on the north canyon wall or entered Downtown Chaco from the south. Stein and colleagues (2007) have identified an extensive earthen platform constructed at the base of Threatening Rock behind Pueblo Bonito, 6207 P a possible elevated road surface extending from the east end of the eastern platform mound, as well as other earthen features. Key Issues/Current Debates/Future Directions/Examples An animated debate surrounds the function of Chacoan great houses. Pueblo Bonito is central to this debate. Pueblo Bonito is the archetypical great house, but is also in many ways unique in the Puebloan world. The debate can be briefly summarized as a series of questions: How many people lived in Pueblo Bonito? Who were they and what did they do there? What was the connection between the people who lived in Pueblo Bonito and other Chaco Canyon great houses to the great house communities spread out across the northern Southwest? Although consensus on answers to these questions has not been reached by Chaco scholars, a review of contrasting interpretations highlights the distinctive role Pueblo Bonito played in the Chacoan world. The number of people inhabiting Chaco Canyon and its great houses has been a topic of discussion from the very first archaeological investigations there. Initial estimates in the tens of thousands have been revised downward to as few as 1,000 (Windes & Mathien 1987: 383-406). Recent estimates of Pueblo Bonito’s momentary population suggest only 12 households or 70 people (Bernardini, 1999). Such a small population in Pueblo Bonito’s vast architectural space suggests that only special people resided here, but what they did there is also a point of contention. One group of scholars argues that great houses, especially Pueblo Bonito, were elite residences and that Chaco Canyon was the center of a hierarchical political system that covered much of the northern Southwest during the tenth and early eleventh centuries (Lekson 1999, 2006, 2009; Sebastian 2006). Other scholars see a much more egalitarian structure in Chaco Canyon with priests serving as ritual leaders and a hinterland that emulated Chacoan practices but was not controlled by canyon ritual leaders (Kantner & Kintigh 2006; Mills 2002). P P 6208 The evidence on which this argument turns includes Chacoan architecture, burials, and imported goods, each of which are most remarkable at Pueblo Bonito. Pueblo Bonito is the largest of the great houses, and most scholars agree that great houses can be considered monumental architecture, in other words, large-scale public construction projects. However, some scholars argue that variability in great house construction outside Chaco Canyon reinforces the independence of outlying Chacoan communities from canyon control (Kantner & Kintigh 2006). Other scholars counter that Chaco Canyon itself includes a high degree of architectural variability including considerable change through time in construction methods especially at the longestlived great house, Pueblo Bonito (Lekson 1999, 2006). Contrasting views of the existence of hierarchy in Chaco Canyon also extend to the labor force that built great houses: Were laborers coerced by leaders who lived in these “palaces” or were they voluntary laborers who converged on the canyon periodically to build great houses under the direction of benign priests? Pueblo Bonito has a set of extraordinarily rich burials, unparalleled in the Puebloan world, that have been central to discussions concerning Chacoan complexity. Akins (2003) has identified 131 burials at the site, most located in two clusters of rooms in the oldest part of the site that she terms family burial facilities. But these were no ordinary families, as at least one of these sets of burial rooms also functioned as a repository for elaborate ceremonial paraphernalia. Arguments about the nature of hierarchy in Chaco Canyon have focused on the two richest burials, Burials 13 and 14, two males were found beneath a carefully constructed plank floor and were accompanied by more than 30,000 objects, including 25,000 pieces of turquoise (mostly beads), more than from all other Southwestern sites combined (Plog & Heitman 2010: 19622). Cylinder jars, wooden ceremonial sticks, a shell trumpet, turquoise and shell-encrusted baskets, and wooden flutes were also found here. Additional burials continued to be placed above the plank floor and in immediately adjacent rooms, Pueblo Bonito perhaps as secondary burials, into the late eleventh or early twelfth centuries. Adjacent rooms contained additional wealth of exotic goods. Scholars who see political hierarchy in Chaco Canyon have argued that these two individuals were powerful political leaders (Lekson 2006; Sebastian 2006). Other scholars have pointed to the fact that these two males, thought to have been deposited in the early eleventh century, were the only evidence of elite rulers in the over 300 years of Chaco’s existence. This argument has been recently addressed by Plog and Heitman (2010) who present startling new data about the Pueblo Bonito burials. They obtained C-14 dates on human remains found here and confirm that these internments were actually some of the earliest activities at the site, dating perhaps to the late ninth century. They suggest that these two males could have been among the founders of Pueblo Bonito, beginning a tradition of social differentiation that continued into the late eleventh or early twelfth centuries. Part of the function of Pueblo Bonito, then, was as a longlived sepulcher where only the most powerful members of Chacoan society were buried. Evidence of the high status of the residents of Pueblo Bonito is also apparent in the exotic goods found there, both in burials and in other parts of the site. These objects were in some cases unique and in others, occurred in quantities far in excess of those found at any other sites in Chaco Canyon or indeed the entire Ancestral Pueblo world. Much of this material was imported from a considerable distance (Toll 2006): turquoise from mines 100 miles to the east, shell (including shell trumpets) from the Pacific ocean, and macaws, copper bells, and cacao from Mesoamerica. Cacao may have been made into a frothy chocolate drink served in cylinder jars that have been found almost exclusively at Pueblo Bonito (Crown & Hurst 2009). Macaw feathers may have been made into elaborate “badges of office” perhaps distributed to Chacoan leaders at great house communities outside Chaco Canyon (Lekson 1999). For more than 300 years, Pueblo Bonito was the most important building in the northern Pueblo Bonito Southwest. This elaborately built structure was home to a small population of people who have been variously described as powerful political leaders or less powerful ritual specialists. Ceremonial activities certainly took place in Pueblo Bonito, both in the central plaza, atop the platform mounds, and in the great kivas located in the plaza. Other ritual activities apparently involved the internment of powerful individuals in a mortuary crypt located in the oldest part of the building. During the many centuries of its use, Pueblo Bonito was a living entity, growing and changing with each generation. Pueblo Bonito was not just another great house, it was THE great house, the center of the Chacoan regional system. Although Chacoan scholars may continue to debate the nature of that system, few will deny Pueblo Bonito’s centrality. Cross-References ▶ Chaco Canyon, Archaeology of ▶ Southwest United States and Northwestern Mexico: Geography and Culture References AKINS, N.J. 2003. The burials of Pueblo Bonito, in J.E. Neitzel (ed.) Pueblo Bonito: center of the Chacoan world: 94-106. Washington (DC): Smithsonian Books. BERNARDINI, W. 1999. Reassessing the scale of social action at Pueblo Bonito, Chaco Canyon, New Mexico. Kiva 64: 447-70. CROWN, P. & W.J. HURST. 2009. Cacao use in the Prehispanic American Southwest. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America 106: 2110-3. JUDD, N.M. 1954. The material culture of Pueblo Bonito (Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections 124). Washington (DC): Smithsonian Institution. - 1964. The architecture of Pueblo Bonito. (Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections 147(1)). Washington (DC): Smithsonian Institution. KANTNER, J. & K. KINTIGH. 2006. The Chaco world, in S.H. Lekson (ed.) The archaeology of Chaco Canyon: an eleventh-century Pueblo regional center: 153-88. Santa Fe: School of American Research Press. 6209 P LEKSON, S.H. 1986. Great Pueblo architecture of Chaco Canyon. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. - 1999. Chaco Meridian. Walnut Creek (CA): AltaMira Press. - 2006. Chaco matters: an introduction, in S.H. Lekson (ed.) The archaeology of Chaco Canyon: an eleventhcentury Pueblo regional center: 3-44. Santa Fe: School of American Research Press. - 2009. A history of the ancient Southwest. Santa Fe: School for Advanced Research Press. LEKSON, S.H. (ed.) 2007. The architecture of Chaco Canyon, New Mexico. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. MILLS, B.J. 2002. Recent research on Chaco: changing views on economy, ritual, and society. Journal of Archaeological Research 10: 65-117. NEITZEL, J.E. (ed.) 2003. Pueblo Bonito: center of the Chacoan world. Washington: Smithsonian Books. PEPPER, G.R. 1920. Pueblo Bonito (Anthropological Papers of the American Museum of Natural History 27). New York: American Museum of Natural History. PLOG, S. & C. HEITMAN. 2010. Hierarchy and social inequality in the American Southwest, A.D. 800-1200. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America 107: 19619-26. SEBASTIAN, L. 2006. The Chaco synthesis, in S.H. Lekson (ed.) The archaeology of Chaco Canyon: an eleventhcentury Pueblo regional center: 392-422. Santa Fe: School of American Research Press. STEIN, J.R., R. FRIEDMAN & T. BLACKHORSE. 2007. Revisiting downtown Chaco, in S.H. Lekson (ed.) 2007. The architecture of Chaco Canyon, New Mexico: 199-224. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. TOLL, H.W. 2006. Organization of production, in S.H. Lekson (ed.) The archaeology of Chaco Canyon: an eleventh-century Pueblo regional center: 117-52. Santa Fe: School of American Research Press. VAN DYKE, R.M. 2007. Great Kivas in time, space, and society, in S.H. Lekson (ed.) The architecture of Chaco Canyon, New Mexico: 93-126. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. WINDES, T.C. & D. FORD. 1996. The Chaco wood project: the chronometric reappraisal of Pueblo Bonito. American Antiquity 61: 295-310. WINDES, T.C. & F.J. MATHIEN. (ed.) 1987. Investigations at the Pueblo Alto Complex, Volumes I and II (Publications in Archaeology 18 F). Santa Fe: Chaco Canyon Studies, National Park Service. Further Reading CHACO RESEARCH ARCHIVE. Available at: http://www. chacoarchive.org/cra/. P P 6210 Pwiti, Gilbert Thomas Thondhlana Institute of Archaeology, University College London, London, UK Basic Biographical Information A jack of two trades and master of both is a befitting statement to introduce Gilbert Pwiti. This biographic entry outlines the illustrious career of the exceptional academic and pioneer of modern archaeological and heritage management research in southern Africa and Zimbabwe in particular. Zimbabwe has enjoyed a comparatively long history of archaeological research starting from the early twentieth century. However, most of the initial archaeological investigations were done by expatriate professional archaeologists of European and American descent, including David RandallMacIver, Gertrude Caton-Thompson, Roger Summers, Peter Garlake, Tom Huffman, and Robert Soper. It is against this background that we have to assess and appreciate the enormous contributions of Gilbert Pwiti to the archaeology and management of heritage in Zimbabwe. Gilbert Pwiti was born in 1958 in Mazoe in the then Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland that comprised three British colonies, namely, Nyasaland (now Malawi), Northern Rhodesia (now Zambia), and Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe). Twenty-two years later he successfully completed the Bachelor of Arts Dual Honors in History and African Languages at the University of Zimbabwe (hereafter UZ). At the same time Zimbabwe was emerging as a new country following a decade of protracted war against minority white regime. The new country, like any other newly independent African country, was in dire need of restoring pride by rewriting its history that was distorted by a century of British colonization. Naturally archaeology was one of the ways to rewrite the precolonial past, a period notable for its lack of written documents. With his passion for history, Pwiti, Gilbert Gilbert was among the first generation of indigenous historians to receive archaeological training abroad in the postcolonial period. In 1983 he left for Europe to read for an M.Phil. in Archaeology at the University of Cambridge. Upon his return from Cambridge after two years of training, he found himself faced with the task of setting up an archaeology unit, the first one in Zimbabwe, within the Department of History at UZ. He was instrumental in introducing archaeology and prehistory courses to undergraduate students who were majoring in History. By 1990 the first fully fledged archaeology degree program began to be offered at UZ as a result of the commitment to teaching by Gilbert Pwiti and his colleagues, Peter Garlake and Robert Soper (Pwiti 1994). Gilbert was subsequently awarded a Ph.D. in Archaeology by the University of Uppsala in 1996 for his research on the early farming communities and complex societies of northern Zimbabwe (Pwiti 1996a). In 2000 he was once again instrumental in the establishment of the Master of Arts degree in Heritage Studies at UZ. Beyond UZ Gilbert has also assisted his former colleagues and students to establish archaeology and cultural heritage degree programs at Midlands State University (MSU) and Great Zimbabwe University (GZU). Today Zimbabwe has hundreds of professional archaeologists and heritage managers practicing their trade in the country while several have been “exported” to neighboring countries. Major Accomplishments During the formative years of his career, he largely focused on the archaeological terra incognita regions that included northern Zimbabwe, and more recently he has shifted his attention to unexplored parts of eastern Zimbabwe. Prior to his investigations, archaeological research tended to be much more limited in terms of geographical coverage with most studies concentrating on Great Zimbabwe and the surrounding areas. His research in the midZambezi Valley, a region perceived as marginal for agropastoral pursuits and thus neglected by Pwiti, Gilbert archaeologists, documented the appearance of the earliest farmers in southern Africa (Pwiti 1996a). His archaeological investigations at Kadzi documented the occurrence of farming communities in the fifth century CE, at least three centuries earlier than previously assumed. The end result of his research was the revision of the cultural sequence of northern Zimbabwe together with the modification of the purported Bantu population movements that supposedly took place at the beginning of the first millennium CE. His focus on second millennium CE farming communities in the same area broadened our understanding of the complex transformation of non-stratified communities to more complex systems (Pwiti 2004). He also questioned the existence of the second wave of Bantu migrations that had been thought to have occurred at the beginning of the second millennium CE. His research findings on this issue refuted the idea that only population movement could account for the sociopolitical changes that occurred in southern Africa. These conclusions challenged racially biased migration theories that were always used to explain sociopolitical changes in African archaeology in favor of autochthonous developments resulting from changes in economy and ideology (Pwiti 2005). His research on the archaeology of farming communities subsequently resulted in the development of a sustained interest in the management of cultural resources. He has since extensively published on the inadequacies of heritage management policies and the need to revise statutory instruments that were enacted during the colonial period which still guide the protection and preservation of cultural resources in postcolonial Africa. He initiated a number of innovative concepts that ought to be the guiding principles for heritage managers in postcolonial African countries. He was among the first scholars to advocate for the recognition of the importance of intangible aspects of heritage, reconciliation of modern and traditional heritage management approaches, and championed community participation (Pwiti 1996b,1997b; Pwiti & Mvenge 1996). His work on heritage management practice in southern Africa highlights how 6211 P colonization alienated the colonized from their heritage physically and culturally (Pwiti & Ndoro 1999; Ndoro & Pwiti 2001). Colonial land resettlement policies and private land holding rights saw the forced removal of people from their immovable heritage, while the education system and churches were used as vehicles to make people despise their own heritage. Vast tracts of land were designated nature reserves, game sanctuaries, and commercial farms. As a result ancestral grave yards, religious centers and shrines became out of bounds since indigenous populations were denied access. It has been Gilbert’s agenda to “restore lost cultural values and pride” so that the once colonized people can appreciate their own heritage and eventually participate in its management. The implementation of some of his proposed concepts particularly community participation in heritage management has not been without challenges. The recent stocktaking of heritage management practice in postcolonial Africa has highlighted a new set of challenges that come with the concepts that he prescribed initially (Chirikure & Pwiti 2008; Chirikure et al. 2010). In some cases it has proved difficult for heritage managers to identify “communities,” “indigenous groups,” and “traditional custodians.” In principle, professionally trained heritage managers and policy makers now recognize the importance of involving traditional custodians in the management of heritage resources, but the implementation and particularly the identification of legitimate custodians is easier said than done. Gilbert Pwiti has (co)edited and (co)authored several seminal publications that focus on a range of aspects on African archaeology and heritage management (Pwiti 1997a; Ndoro & Pwiti 2005). In 2001 he teamed up with his colleagues in East Africa to launch a publication series entitled Studies in the African Past. This series has since been the outlet to showcase recent and ongoing research in eastern and southern Africa. To date Gilbert Pwiti has held several administrative positions at UZ, and beyond the university he has acted as an advisor for matters of heritage management. In spite of the demands of these administrative jobs and research commitments, P P 6212 he has never stopped lecturing. He is an outstanding and eloquent teacher with a lot of enthusiasm in the African prehistory and heritage management. His commitment to the archaeology unit he founded at the university has seen him staying put even in the most difficult times when others went in search of greener pastures. His publications are very useful, but we should acknowledge that they will not always stand the test of time as such may one day become outdated. Having said that, it is through his contribution to the teaching and training of more archaeologists that Gilbert sows the seeds of knowledge that will last forever. He has been instrumental as a mentor of many professional archaeologists and heritage managers in Zimbabwe. Apart from UZ he has been able to share his experience as a visiting professor and external examiner at several leading archaeology institutions and departments in Africa and abroad. This international exposure has allowed him to secure funding for his students who have furthered their archaeological studies at leading archaeological institutions and departments in Africa and Europe. Through his commitment to the training of indigenous archaeologists Gilbert has shown that the economic theory of “kicking away the ladder” once one climbs to greater heights has no place in the world of academia. The present and future generations of archaeologists and heritage managers in Zimbabwe are therefore indebted to him. For his contributions and service to his country and southern Africa, it is not surprising that Gilbert Pwiti became the first professor of Archaeology in Zimbabwe. His services to global archaeology were acknowledged when he was elected the acting president of the World Archaeological Congress (1998–2000). On the final analysis of his career to date, Gilbert has demonstrated that for one to be an archaeologist, one has to be a versatile and passionate researcher, supervisor, and teacher. Cross-References ▶ Ndoro, Webber ▶ Zimbabwe: Cultural Heritage Management Pwiti, Gilbert References CHIRIKURE, S. & G. PWITI. 2008. Community involvement in archaeology and cultural heritage management. Current Anthropology 49: 467-85. CHIRIKURE, S., M. MANYANGA, W. NDORO & G. PWITI. 2010. Unfulfilled promises? Heritage management and community participation at some of Africa’s cultural heritage sites. International Journal of Heritage Studies 16: 30-44. NDORO, W. & G. PWITI. 2001. Heritage management in southern Africa: local, national and international discourse. Public Archaeology 2: 21-34. NDORO, W. & G. PWITI. (ed.) 2005. Legal framework for the protection of immovable cultural heritage in Africa. Rome: ICCROM. PWITI, G. 1994. Prehistory, archaeology and education in Zimbabwe, in P. G. Stone & B.L. Molyneaux (ed.) The presented past: heritage, museums and education: 338-48. London: Routledge, Taylor & Francis Group. - 1996a. Continuity and change: an archeological study of farming communities in northern Zimbabwe AD 500-1700 (Studies in African Archaeology 13). Uppsala: Societas Archaeologica Upsaliensis. - 1996b. Let the ancestors rest in peace? New challenges for cultural heritage management in Zimbabwe. Conservation and Management of Archaeological Sites 1: 151-60. - 1997a. Caves, monuments and texts: Zimbabwean archaeology today (Studies in African Archaeology 14). Uppsala: Department of Archaeology and Ancient History. - 1997b. Taking African cultural heritage management into the twenty-first century: Zimbabwe’s masterplan for cultural heritage management. African Archaeological Review 14: 81-3. - 2004. Economic change, ideology and the development of cultural complexity in northern Zimbabwe. Azania 39: 265-82. - 2005. Southern Africa and the East African Coast, in A.B. Stahl (ed.) African archaeology: a critical introduction: 378-391. Malden: Blackwell Publishing. PWITI, G. & G. MVENGE. 1996. Archaeologists, tourists and rainmakers: problems in the management of rock art sites in Zimbabwe, a case study of Domboshava national monument, in G. Pwiti & R. Soper (ed.) Aspects of African archaeology: papers from the 10th Congress of the Pan-African Association for Prehistory and Related Studies: 817-24. Harare: University of Zimbabwe Publications. PWITI, G. & W. NDORO. 1999. The legacy of colonialism: perceptions of cultural heritage in southern Africa, with special reference to Zimbabwe. African Archaeological Review 16: 143-53. Further Reading CHAMI, F. & G. PWITI. (ed.) 2002. Southern Africa and the Swahili world (Studies in the African Past 2). Dar es Salaam: Dar es Salaam University Press. Pyburn, K. Anne CHAMI, F., G. PWITI & M.D.C. RADIMILAHY. (ed.) 2001. People, contacts and the environment in the African past (Studies in the African Past 1). Dar es Salaam: Dar es Salaam University Press. - 2003. Climate change, trade and modes of production in sub-Saharan Africa (Studies in the African Past 3). Dar es Salaam: Dar es Salaam University Press. - 2004. The African archaeological network: reports and a review (Studies in African Past 4). Dar es Salaam: Dar es Salaam University Press. PWITI, G., S. MACAMO & M.D.C. RADIMILAHY. (ed.) 2009. Dimensions of African archaeology (Studies in the African Past 7). Dar es Salaam: E & D Vision Publishers. Pyburn, K. Anne K. Anne Pyburn Indiana University, Bloomington, IN, USA Basic Biographical Information Anne Pyburn is Professor of Anthropology at Indiana University where she is Director of the Center for Archaeology in the Public Interest (CAPI). She is the Director of the Chau Hiix Project in Belize, Director of Community Cultural Resource Management for the Silk Road Project in Kyrgyzstan, and Director of the MATRIX Project for educational development in archaeology. Major Accomplishments Dr. Pyburn’s interests include archaeological research ethics, heritage and globalization, 6213 P gender, early cities, the ancient Maya, and the growing emphasis on heritage and national identity in Kyrgyzstan. She is currently serving as Chair of the International Scientific Committee for the seventh meeting of the World Archaeological Congress (WAC-7). Cross-References ▶ Ethics in Archaeology ▶ Kyrgyzstan: Cultural Heritage Management ▶ Mundo Maya ▶ Stakeholders and Community Participation ▶ World Archaeological Congress (WAC) Further Reading COLWELL-CHANTHAPHONH, C., J. HOLLOWELL & D. MCGILL. 2008. Ethics in action. Case studies in archaeological dilemmas. Washington (DC): Society for American Archaeology. PYBURN, K.A. 2007. Archaeology as activism, in H. Silverman & D.F. Ruggles (ed.) Cultural heritage and human rights: 172-183. New York: Springer. PYBURN, K.A. & R.W.WILK. 1995. Responsible archaeology is applied anthropology, in M.J. Lynott & A. Wylie (ed.) Ethics in American archaeology: challenges for the 1990s: 71-76. Washington (DC): Society for American Archaeology. VITELLI, K.D. & C. COLWELL-CHANTHAPHONH. (ed.) 2006. Archaeological ethics, 2nd edn. Lanham: AltaMira. ZIMMERMAN, L.J., K.D. VITELLI & J. HOLLOWELL-ZIMMER. 2003. Ethical issues in archaeology. Walnut Creek: AltaMira. P