This week On the Reading Rest I have the past in the form of a printout of an article from the latest volume, 78:1, of American Antiquity.
Because I have a grandchild in Japan I was happy to accept an invitation to give a paper at the April SAA congress in Honolulu. Nagoya is my base between Hawaii and home. Going to SAA meant that like many others of the more than 3,000 participants, I had to become a member of SAA. Being a member, whether I like it or not, whether I can pick it out from JSTOR or not, whether I read it in the library or not, whether I get a paper copy or not, I got a message, among frequent communications, telling me that I may download American Antiquity 78:1, 2013. Because I haven’t read an article in American Antiquity since perhaps 1973 when I wrote a master thesis on concept formation in archaeology – classical genus proximum et differentia specifica versus family resemblance concepts – and needed some examples of pointless New Archeology, I couldn’t resist a look.
The cover has changed, but between front and back nothing but authors’ names and reference years are new. I probably suspected just that, but who can resist a deja vue knowing that the whole antiquarian installation is staged in April – The Past, Live in Honolulu. Today, when the material remains and contexts of iterative long-lasting cultural performances are in vogue, who wouldn’t do a participant observation of the ritual gatherings of the New American Archeologists? NAAs are not endangered, not yet indigenzed and I am not doing an ethically questionable anthropology in my own society. I may be post-colonializing them, but that is still PC.
As a preparation I read:
Arakawa, Fumiyasu; Nicholson, Christopher and Rasic, Jeff. 2013. The consequences of social processes: Aggregate populations, projectile point accumulation, and subsistence patterns in the American Southwest. American Antiquity 78:1:147-165.
Arakawa, Nicholson and Rasic (AraNiRa) have observed that as of 2005 (referring to Diamond: Guns Germs and Steel) scholars have investigated the potential causes and consequences of – the Neolithic no less (p.147, first column). What a splendid idea. This Neolithic thing it seems could have had potential consequences! Thus astonished and worried – could global warming be among the consequences? – we may proceed to contemplate the following:
[Neolithic human] groups began manufacturing and using pottery vessels, used the bow and the arrow, shifted subsistence patterns from strictly hunting and gathering to horticulture and agriculture, began domesticating animals and established sedentary villages.
First year students usually don’t get away with suggesting to their teachers that pottery, the bow and the arrow and domestication, e.g. of the dog, were emblematic of anything as belated as the Neolithic. And by the way, initially among agriculturalists the sedentary villages and the distinction between manufacturing and using pottery were of little importance. In the current American antiquity, nevertheless, this new-age-dawning perspective is creed. Having introduced us to their unique cultural context the authors turn to their archaeological mission and
argue that artifact deposits from a range of settlement sizes can inform meaningful interpretations about the consequences of social processes, such as aggregation and increases in group population density.
Rather than dubious, this proposition – artifact deposits can inform a range of meaningful interpretations – is so obvious that it can be proved, i.e., probably be proved since we mustn’t jump to conclusions, must we? Where would Archeology be if we just thought it could be meaningful?
I am thrilled: reading the article, planning to go to Honolulu, believing that two of the authors will be there, I feel surfing on the forefront of that wave of research, which roles on under my surfboard without moving forward. I shall add American Antiquity to the list of consequences brought about by the Neolithic.
True to New Archeology hoping to create a meaningful pattern composed on a few hopefully controlled variables, AraNiRa start to track down (1) large and (2) small settlements, (3) high and (4) low population density in (5) a central and (6) a peripheral area, with (7) lithic projectile points and (8) earthen utility wares as well as faunal data in which we may distinguish between (9) large and (10) small game. This is not ideal because there is a dependency between lithic projectile points and large game as well as warfare, albeit perhaps a secondary one, but very little dependency between utility ware and small game or indeed warfare. New Archeology scholastics would not have taken lightly that kind of variable dependency. Variables 7 to 10 must thus be transformed to general markers, i.e. a point:sherd ration and an artiodactyle index, which are either high or low.(Google actually returns 29.900 hits for ‘artiodactyle’ e.g. beating ‘hemiepes’ with 9.000 hits).
The construction of index and ratio is always tricky. In this case it is a specimens-of-species index (based on the Number of Identified specimens in archaeological reports – NISP). That is less informative than a Minimum Number of Individuals (MNI) index, but it cannot be helped since the archaeological records give us NISP and ours not to reason why. Actually, in order not to get completely trapped in source critical problems, already troublesome, simplification is a must. The authors therefore total all the artiodactyles (even-toed), i.e. bison, deer, sheep etc, who are large, and then they sum the lagomorphs, i.e. hares, rabbits and pikas, who are small. Indeed there are no perissodactyles — odd-toed (12.700 hits). Based on these sums they construct the Artiodactyle index (AI): AI= artiodactyle/(artiodactyle+lagomorphs).
The construction of the point:sherd ratio is more difficult because it aims at reconstruction a factual prehistoric balance. This reconstruction is complicated by the fact that ‘10 out of 72 sites’ have not yielded any projectile points, just pottery. Since there is a balance between the two artefact categories, the authors manage with a bit of Bayesian statistics to produce a Posterior Mean Value, PMV, reflecting the once existing balances between points and shards. Technically speaking there is nothing wrong with the construction of this value, but the construction doesn’t differentiate between small and large sites. There is just one mean for The Core Area sites and another for The Periphery. Primarily, Core and Periphery is a matter of population density.
This means that ‘small’ and ‘large’ sites are the only straightforward, i.e. non-aggregated, variables. ‘Small’ and ‘large’ are taken for granted. In the end of the article, when it comes to comparing the meaningful patterns related to a prehistoric reality, the comparison of the PMV is primarily between small and large sites and secondarily between the somewhat aggregated periphery and core concepts, i.e. areas defined in general geographical, topographical and demographic terms. Belonging to an area makes a site ‘peripheral’ or ‘central’. In the article, methodologically motivated simplification is driven by fuzzy dichotomization keeping the reader relatively unaware of the basic distributions of the variables on the intra-site level – projectile density distribution and utility ware density distribution being cases in point.
Although this is not promising, the authors proceed to produce diagrams mapping the PMV on one axis and the AI on the other with dots representing all sites as either small or large – differentiating between core and periphery by means of symbols. In theory the expected pattern should like this:
When we start reading ‘Results’, it soon becomes obvious that there is a discrepancy between the diagrams Figures 4 to 7 and the Tables 1 & 2. There are more sites in the tables (75) than in the diagrams and the text discussing them (72). Moreover, the points plotted in the diagrams are not always the ones defined by the numbers in the tables. There are 39 tabled sites in the Core Area not the 36 plotted in the diagrams. The distribution in Fig. 7 cannot be checked because there are too few decimals in the PMV values in tables 1 & 2. There are astonishing errors too: in Fig.4 the median PMV for the small sites in The Periphery is given as 0.03, but judging from table 1 it is 0.01 and less in line with the authors’ hypotheses. This is of little importance for the obvious conclusions, but it makes patterns that are not in line with the hypotheses more significant. Only the diagram Fig. 6 (the small sites in Periphery and Core) can be reproduced and compared with the published. Based on tables 1 & 2 this revised diagram looks like this:
Superimposed upon Fig. 6 in the article we get a discrepancy:
Most of the differences are ‘decimal differences’ (the authors use four places in the diagrams and only three in the tables), but the values for McElmo-Yellow Jacket are distorted. This means that when it comes to this densely populated area the authors cannot rely on their hypotheses to explain the deviance among their large or small sites.
If we add the theoretical categories to Fig. 6, the greatest problem with the interpretation is the many small sites dominated by large-game bones, but none the less characterized by few projectile points with which to kill the game. It so happens that the upper left corner of the diagram refutes the theory on its own assumptions. This patter becomes even more obvious when we re-scale Fig. 7 and add the large sites to the small ones to get a total picture.
When we look at all sites, there is thus an even more obvious split between those with relatively speaking many and those with few large mammals, since between AI 0.4 and 0.6 there are very few sites.
There are fewer large mammals in large sites, dots, but that doesn’t mean that the animals killed in small peripheral sites, open diamonds, or indeed any small site, any diamond, were not brought as meat or cut of meat to large sites in The Core, green,blue and red dots. ‘Numerous’ and’ few’ obviously mean different things on different sites in different environments. Parallel to the split dense group, the two left corners of the diagram, there is a spread-out peripheral western group wedged between the two main corners. In this group as in the dense groups, a growing PMV means either a minimum or maximum AI. Sites in the McElmo-Yellow Jacket (McElyja) core area, moreover, are distinctly different from Mesa Verde sites suggesting that The Core Area Concept implicated by AraNiRa is flawed. If we were able to check the topographical distribution of MaElyja sites, there is a fair chance we could find a division between core sites and peripheral sites within the region.
The hypotheses suggest a theoretical distribution and meaning that doesn’t match the observed patterns. The article obscures the methodological reasons for this discrepancy, but common sense suggests that the different ways projectile points and utility ware are produced, used, dispersed, rejected, recycled, reused, deposited etc, help to obscure the meaning of the ratio point:sherd and the diagrams Figs 4-7. Probably, measuring the density of game and domesticated species as well as pottery density – leaving out the strongly dependent projectile variable, which moreover is split between killing large game and humans — as weapons still tend to be in everyday American usage – would have been more meaningful.
All this ends up in a classical example of the shortcomings of the New-Archeology approach: (1) simplification based on fuzzy dichotomies and oppositions blurs the meaning of the variables and makes correlations and discrepancies between the hypothetic suggestions and the observed patterns difficult to comprehend – for authors as well as readers. For some reason beyond our reach, (2) the formal consistency of the New-Archeology presentation often breaks down adding to the reader’s confusion. But in the end (3) this takes away nothing from the conclusions because they are but tentative and commonplace:
The analyses provide support for the idea that increasing population density and aggregation of settlement patterns led to changes in sociopolitical organization and subsistence patterns (p. 161).
It takes a backup of c. 100 references pushing at this open door. Ten seemingly innocent persons and institutions share the doubtful honour of being thanked in the acknowledgement at the very end – And of course, we [AraNiRa] take responsibility for any and all mistakes or omissions. It didn’t go without saying.
This week On the Reading Rest I have an excavation report in Swedish:
Stenbäck & al. 2012. Niklas Stenbäck, Marcus Eriksson, Michel Guinard and Roger Wikell, Stenålder vid Påljungshage. En sörmländsk lokal med nedslag från tidig- och mellanneolitikum—Stone Age at ’Paul Young’s Pen’. A Site in Södermanland visited in the Early and Middle Neolithic. [SAU rapport 2010:8, pp 184]. Uppsala 2012. (cf. http://www.sau.se/sodermanland_s193.html )
Once again, a site, excavated because society needs to transform itself and exploit its assets, reveals a micro history easy to grasp. The excavation results, moreover, makes it obvious that a simplistic answer to a wrongly posed but popular Stone Age question, cannot survive the complexity of Prehistory and the straightforward contexts which it gave rise to.
Let’s start with trivia: the dimension and size of log boats is determined largely by the logs from which they are made. Indeed, and for two reasons this means that in the future, Swedish log boats will be very narrow and little used.
(1) Today, when it comes to the exploitation of its assets, Sweden is turning woods into squared production surfaces where firs are planted in an even pattern and expected to grow for 70 years only before they are harvested. Woodlands are rapidly turned into monoculture fir fields and seventy year old firs are still slender trees – useless when it comes to log boats.
(2) All wood production surfaces are eventually ploughed and planted with fir, which means that soon there will be no suitable pines either.
In bygone days when woods were dense with a variety of vegetation and trees grew straight for non-cultural rather than mono-cultural reasons, biological diversity ruled. Trees grew tall and their wide trunks made wonderful log boats or canoes. Some prehistoric boats are impressive.
The rapid loss of biodiversity and ecosystems in Sweden is not trivial, and in most of the world, not least in Sweden, it has become too late to hug the trees of a primeval forest. Instead the loss of everything but firs, young or young adult trees, has resulted in fir field monuments to narrow-minded greed and irrationality. We should accept neither the loss nor the monuments.
During the Stone Age at Påljungshage—Paul Young’s Pen—they didn’t build log boats, but they used them to go there from the mainland in Early Neolithic times. Owing to the high water levels Paul Young’s Pen was not a pen at all, but a protected coast facing south on a small rocky island in the outer archipelago with a good landing place. The landing place was a sandy beach cleared from stones, perfect for canoes.
Those days are behind us. Because of the shore displacement starting when the Scandinavian inland ice and its weight melted away, the water disappeared, the beach became a meadow and eventually a marginal pen before the highway was constructed and the agricultural land replaced by brushwood in a narrow and badly drained corridor between the road bank and the once Neolithic beach. Today, having blown away the bedrock that once formed the top of the island and crushed debris and blasted stone into valuable gravel, the place has become a shopping mall as commonplace to the outskirts of a modern town as ever a beach site in the Neolithic archipelago.
But the excavations conducted before the construction of the shopping centre were excellent. And for once money wasn’t a problem – in part because of all the gravel.
The Stone Age site was a nuisance to the exploiters and not much to bother about, but the Bronze Age – Early Iron Age cemetery on the very top of the former island, once monumentally marking the border zone of the Bronze and Early Iron Age settlement north of Paul Young’s Pen, sat on valuable bedrock and had to go. The whole scene was potent modern exploitation: an end with a bang to the lee and protected beaches of the outer Stone Age archipelago.
Although Paul Young’s Pen was been visited several times in prehistory, the visits in the Early Neolithic, 4th millennium BCE, meet the eye. Careful excavation and interpretation of archaeological variables as well as a number of sophisticated analyses – wear on stone artefacts, lipids in pot shards, thin sections of ceramic ware and analysis of decoration, analysis of macro fossils and diatoms as well as osteology and 14C dates, tell us the following about the Early Neolithic site: Facing the south there were three small sandy shelves close to the shore. They were used simultaneously for similar yet somewhat different purposes. On the eastern shelf the use of fire was important and so was cooking and quarts/quartzite napping. On the western shelf grinding played a prominent role. The central shelf was the better landing site and the arena of the commonplace of daily life when the level of the water was c. 30 metre above today’s sea level. The western and central shelf had direct contact with the water, but the eastern one was isolated.
The central shelf represents the dwelling area, the eastern shelf a rather smoky specialization related to processing, and the western a ‘non-smoking’ area with an element of craftsmanship. The report is built around the systematic presentation and interpretation of a number of artefact categories in view of distribution and density. There are a number of categories: quarts, quartzite, flint, whinstone, rock type, slate, mica slate, sandstone, ceramics, burnt bone, fire cracked stone, lipids and diatoms and they give the reader a typical report insight into the settlement. Moreover, they suggest the mapping of these variables according to their presence in different square metres thus mapping the complexity to the usage of the site. We may do this by representing each category with a certain degree of opacity. If we do so, the colour of the square metre will deepen with the number of variables represented in it. Thus, an opaque red represents the most complex square metres, and clusters small centres of diverse activities.
Obviously Neolithic man used to nap quarts when he produced his tools, and fire cracked stones were endemic to the use of fire. We may therefore expect these categories to be constantly present on a settlement site and weigh them less important than ceramic, slate or flint, which must have been imported to the site by means of more complicated networks. Burnt bones too are significant because they mirror division of labour.
If we map the site in this way, the central and western shelves are characterized by small-scale clusters. At the eastern shelf, repeated activities blurred the complexity—the small-scale clusters—over a relatively large area in the western side of the shelf. Eventually, if the site had been continuously occupied for hundreds of years the small-scale clustering on all the shelves would have disappeared. Since this development didn’t happened we may Suggest that the site was visited at intervals a relatively small number of times. Eventually the coastline fell below 30 m above sea level, but that didn’t prompt Prehistoric man to follow the displaced shore. On the contrary, the few times the area was revisited people sat down on the dry and sandy sheltered shelves.
Bones, lipids, diatoms and macro fossils allow us to infer some basic facts about the Early Neolithic diet. What animals were eaten? What food was cooked and stored? What algae were trapped in the grinding stones? By chance, what plants were charred? The answer is simple: Those who ate at Paul Young’s Pen were farmers as well as hunters. They brought grain and a large grinding stone from their sweet water inland settlement out into the archipelago where diatoms that thrive in brackish water were grinded into whetstones, but not into the grinding stone. In their pots, people cooked vegetables and ruminants, as well as other terrestrial and maritime mammals. They ate wheat and barley as well as fish, seal, pig, and sheep/goat. It looks as if they mostly did this on the eastern shelf, but in reality this was where their use of fire included burning their garbage.
And when did they go there? Two times a year – before and after the farming season. They came in late winter/early spring for the seal hunt – no doubt the brutal hunt that became traditional – and returned in the autumn to fish. Topography, the year cycle and their own traditions seem to have guided their occasional visits during a 500-year period mainly in the early part of the 4th century BCE.
One thing they didn’t do in the archipelago was reading ‘Science’ and that was probably just as well since if they had read Vol 336 no. 6080 pp 466-469 and the comment pp 400-401, they would have felt as cross, neglected and misunderstood as ever a First Nations people.
The authors of the article Origins and Genetic Legacy of Neolithic Farmers and Hunter-Gatherers in Europe (pp 466-469) end up cautiously stating that ‘[o]ur results suggest that migration from southern Europe catalyzed the spread of agriculture and that admixture in the wake of this expansion eventually shaped the genomic landscape of modern-day Europe.’ In News & Analysis, under the heading Ancient Migrants Brought Farming Way of Life to Europe (pp 400-401), this nevertheless becomes ‘evidence that farmers personally took the technology across Europe, and that the first farmers of chilly northern Europe came from the continent’s sunny Mediterranean south’. The rest is www (9,960 hits at Google for the phrase “Ancient Swedish Farmer came from the Mediterranean”) and ‘Science’-true only.
Yet everything is based on a splendid analysis of ancient DNA from humans who died c. 5000 years ago, one of whom may personally have come from southern Europe. Yes, 5000 years ago, i.e. 1000 years after the first peasant-hunter-gatherers at Paul Young’s Pen dropped dead. There is of course no doubt that the forefathers of the people who visited Paul Young’s Pen could have been Europeans and that Europeans continued to find their way into the Scandinavia blind alley, but there is no reason to suggest that coming from somewhere a thousand years too late made anybody the first farmer and certainly not either farmer or hunter-gatherer. No wonder First Nations people usually don’t accept anachronisms.
It is not inconceivable that immigrants in the 3rd millennium BCE ‘catalyzed the spread of agriculture’ and many other things such as cabbages and kings, but that might and might not have happened any time before and after. None the less, well into modern times, coastland and archipelago agriculture was often a node in balanced networking with other nodes such as hunting, fishing and gathering. Such diversity is often a reasonable way to adapt to an environment and make it a human landscape without completely destroying it. Trivial but true.