The object of archaeology?

What does an archaeologist do? What, exactly, is it that one studies? More poignantly, why do we care? This is seemingly at the core of a self-reflective archaeology as alluded to by Ian Hodder in "Archaeological Theory in Contemporary European Societies; the Emergence of Competing Traditions" and Ann Brower Stahl's "Introduction: Changing Perspectives on Africa's Past."

Importantly, Hodder concludes that there is a certain level of objectivity whereby our understanding of the past in the present time is informed by the remains from the past: "...the experience of the archaeological data and the patterning observed in the past do more than resist our ideas; they help create them" (22). However, is this a satisfying response to his previous statement that "The past is undeniably social, as is the practice of archaeology" (20)? He seems to claim that there is indeed some middle ground between the objective presence of material remains from a past existence and the socially-affected discipline of archaeology. However, with considerations such as "...the history of theories used in archaeology cannot be separated from the concrete conditions of practical research or from the social functions of archaeology in society" (21), how in fact can this objective-subjective dichotomy be mediated? Hodder claims that "The continuities we claim with the past have in part been created by that past. Archaeological science involves a dialectical relationship between past and present. The hermeneutic circle is not a vicious one" (22). This seems to be a logical fallacy, however, if the continuities we claim to have with a given past are in fact up to an interpretation of that past. Where does the science come into archaeology? How is that dialectic any different than the discourse that Said discusses on the matter of Orientalism?

If the object of archaeology is a past that is uncovered and interpreted in the present, is not any continuity drawn between this present and that past merely a structure of rhetoric and interpretation? The process that Hodder seems to rectify as in some way objective is anything but. It is a reflexive discourse, as is Said's Orientalism. We are the present, they are the past. We observe and study them through our lens. As the speakers for the past, we describe it and analyze it. Where, exactly does the data come in? How is this any different than an Orientalist discourse?

To be fair to Hodder, he does acknowledge this to an extent by inscribing: "The attempt to embed material events within the whole framework of meaning in which they were once situated clearly involves the analyst in a double hermeneutic in which 'their' and 'our' understandings are gradually accommodated in a moving double circle. This process of double reading has to be critically aware" (18). Is this not a method of navigating the vicious hermeneutic circle that Hodder eventually rejects? Poignantly, the process of archaeology is, indeed, a moving, reflexive discourse. It seems that there is no mere moment of archaeological objectiveness, but more so an ongoing, reflexive, discursive, hermeneutic enterprise. Is this not the history that Hodder so sensitively describes of his account of European archaeology?

So, this does not give an answer to any question asked originally as to what and why archaeologists study. There is seemingly no object of archaeology. The only objective to be found here is that it is a discourse among as many interpreted evidences as possible, characterized as 'data,' and with that to define, redefine, and question a past that is interpreted in the present. Likewise, these are the sorts of systematic problems that Stahl faces in prefacing an account of African archaeology. She considers knowledge to be always interested; i.e., the object of an analysis is determined "... by the social, political, and economic contexts..." of the subject (2). The conclusions drawn from such analyses are presented as universal, objective conditions, or 'knowledge,' but really "...the universal emerges NOT from widely documented shared features, as we might at first imagine, but rather from the elevation of a shared instance or example to stand for the universal" (6).

As for a capacity for archaeologists to do some study of worth, as heretofore they have been perhaps unfairly treated in this reflection, they consider sources--or perhaps objects--of a past, some of which are privileged over others. The direct sources are those privileged over indirect ones, having been produced in the temporal realm of concern. These data points that Hodder perhaps designates too much of an objectivity for, are by no means such. However, their presence and usage in an archaeological endeavor is not to be unsubstantiated, but reconsidered. To reckon with these qualms, Stahl wisely places such archaeological 'data' in its rightful place by claiming, "Archaeological sources...provide valuable independent evidence against which to assess models of the past." The insistence here is on her use of the term models. To bring this discussion to a more hopeful end with regards to the place and function of archaeology, if we are to study 'the past' as models of such rather than an objective sort, and the evidence from which as artifacts to be questioned, analyzed, and interpreted for or against certain models, than in fact archaeology can have an exuberant worth insofar as it acquires and exploits data while questioning it and the meaning thereof.

With this in mind, Stahl puts it far better than I could attempt to here, and will therefore end as she does. Her considerations are universal, however. For archaeology to succeed and have relevancy, it must be a subjective study of the subjective. As one would advise the insecure and miserable pubescent boy, accept and pride in who you are. For archaeology to reach the level of adulthood, it must accept what it is and what it is not. It is an anarchical endeavor, no right or wrong, this or that, us or them. Archaeology is, indeed, the study of everything. It is only different insofar of its perspective. Thus, perhaps archaeology is more suited as a frame of mind than a discipline unto itself. Anyway, rather than belabor this point, Stahl has some words to comfort us all in the throes of archaeological existential crises:

"Africa's pasts speak to us--conceived as an encompassing 'circle of we'--not for what they tell us about teleologically conceived universal progress, or quintessential difference and diversity conceived as a departure from an ever-present phantom standard of 'us-ness.' Rather they offer insight into our humanness; to the struggles of humans as social actors to feed and care for family, to express commonalities and differences, to impose or resist power and hegemony, in short, to make our way in a world of entangled and changing natural and cultural circumstances" (16).

The Ideology of Archaeological Theory and Practice

“Ideology,” while a prevalent term in archaeological literature, is difficult to define precisely. In the first chapter of Ideology: An Introduction, “What is Ideology,” Terry Eagleton enumerates a variety of definitions, some of which are more neutral and others that either imply or assert value judgments. For instance, ideology is to certain scholars “the process of production of meanings, signs and values in social life,” while to others it is “systematically distorted communication.” (1-2). The first description is fairly neutral, while the second has clearly pejorative connotations.

Like Foucault, I am reluctant to reject the Marxist notion of ideology as inherently distorted or false because it implies the existence of its opposite: a universal, absolute truth. However, I do not believe that “ideology” as a concept necessitates rejection altogether. Rather, I tend towards the first definition, which can reflect the formation and propagation of any belief system, dominant or marginal, as all are neither “true” nor “false.” Additionally, in my view, ideologies are not teleological; rather, they are relational and evolve, converge and diverge. As Said emphasized in his discussion of Orientalism, ideologies are formed through dialectical interactions between individuals within society. Therefore, individuals do have the capacity to influence ideologies and even contradict them. Acknowledgement of this individual agency makes the continued dominance of certain ideologies that much more impressive and allows us to consider the reasons why they were so well suited to a particular spatiotemporal arena.

In thinking about the concept of ideology and how I might define such a problematic (but also, I would argue, useful) term, I began to think about the ideologies of archaeology itself, both as a theoretical discipline and a practical, applied endeavor. This passage from the first chapter of Archaeological Theory in Europe: The Last Three Decades emphasizes the ideological nature of archaeology:

Each age, in each country, writes its own history and its own archaeology. As a result of these changes and differences, and as a result of the engrained social and political uses and misuses of archaeology in the European context, it is difficult to remain blind to the theoretical construction of archaeological objects, difficult not to see archaeologists transforming reality and difficult not to recognize artefacts as products rather than records (Hodder, 10).

The shift in archaeological theory and practice from antiquarianism to post (or even perhaps post-post) processualism can arguably be discussed as a change in the dominant ideologies of the archaeologist. As Hodder emphasizes, the pasts we construct as archaeologists change from year to year, decade to decade, and century to century not because of radical shifts in the material culture that is excavated but by changes in the belief systems of the discipline’s practitioners. Post-processualism acknowledges the influence of the individual archaeologist’s sociopolitical history in his/her scholarship. It is standard practice today to concede that objectivity is an impossible and therefore futile goal. However, it is important to realize that this shift is not an escape from ideology altogether but rather the emergence of a new dominant paradigm within archaeology.

This recognition of the pervasiveness of ideology as an integral component of society is important with regards to the practical, cultural heritage applications of archaeology in addition to the theoretical. For example, in the first chapter of Ann Stahl’s book African Archaeology: A Critical Introduction, she briefly problematizes UNESCO World Heritage sites. According to the organization’s website, “What makes the concept of World Heritage exceptional is its universal application. World Heritage sites belong to all the peoples of the world, irrespective of the territory on which they are located.” While this sentiment is seemingly positive, it imposes an ideology of global allegiance to an organization that is predominantly “Western” in philosophy, personnel and funding. It is trendy in the United States educational system to produce “global citizens,” but in countries that face constant socioeconomic and political instability (largely as the result of a Western colonialist history), prioritizing a national or even local agenda may be more advantageous. Of course, I am thrilled that because of these organizations, tracts of biodiverse ecosystems and historical sites have been preserved. However, it is important to recognize that the idea that one organization can lay claim to the entire globe is a fundamentally Western ideology stemming from an expansionist, colonialist history.

Therefore, not only is ideology still relevant as a theoretical concept in archaeology, it has practical implications for the preservation (and therefore construction) of the past.  

In the beginning of our African Archeology class, we were asked to write down what Africa meant to us. While it was a rather open ended question, I still had difficulty answering it. Should I mention the origin of human evolution, the hot weather, or maybe even the troubling history of apartheid? While my mind flirted with all of these rather serious topics (especially the hot weather), I ultimately decided to write about New Year’s.

For as long as I can remember up until 2008, my family would meet every December 31^st to celebrate New Year’s with certain family friends. However, this was never a standard New Year’s party. Wine was replaced with hot apple cider, and pounding dance music with calming classical choruses. The center piece of the celebrations though was always the slide show of this family’s travels in South Africa. The husband of this family grew up in what was then Rhodesia before moving to Cape town, and he with his wife and children would travel about once a year to see his extended family back in Africa. Yet the slide shows we saw were not filled with pictures of antique grandmothers or third cousins twice removed. Instead, what we saw every New Year’s was a collage of various game reserves visits this family went to during their down time in South Africa.

As a child, these slide shows were a marvel to look at. While things were boring in suburban New Jersey, Africa seemed like such an exciting place where one could see elephants, lions, and zebras. These images led to an association of Africa of a place filled with adventure and exoticism. I was the explorer, seeing wild animals in their natural habitat. Yet I wasn’t only the adventurer, but the scientist as well. Each slide was accompanied with a question to see if I was paying attention. For example, I would be asked “how many zebras do you see in this picture?” after a particular slide (one that probably contained zebras). Three, I would answer triumphantly, only to soon learn that there was a hidden fourth and fifth zebra whose only visible vestiges were a stray leg and a partially visible tail, camouflaged by the other animals. Like Batman trying to escape some demonic test by the Riddler, I felt like my very survival depended on answering these questions correctly. Succeed, and I would earn the respect of my family friends. Fail, and earn eternal damnation. These questions were not restricted to number games, but also identifying different animals from one another. While almost anyone can tell the difference between a lion and a tiger, give me a thumbs up if you can identify a springbuck from a waterbuck. Hint: it involves a white circle and a backside. No joke.

While I would not like to overemphasis these New Year’s parties in sculpting my vision of Africa, I still think these visits were important. To this day, I still associate Africa with the “new frontier,” a place of discovery and exploration. Additionally, I still have the tendency to put different animals into different categories as soon as I see them, such as predator or prey, whether on national geographic or in the street. This tendency, or perhaps fixation, to categorize Africa reminds me of what current New York University Professor Mary Louise Pratt describes as “The Project of Natural History.” She describes how various European writings during the 19^th century of Africa used multiple different methods in codifying Africa as the “other.” One such method was to see Africa through a lens of ordered history. Every plant, animal, and person had to be put into their respective categories like toys into the proper bin. Only then could Europe expect to understand Africa. As Pratt writes in Scratches on the face of the Country, “Their [the explorer-writers] task was to incorporate a particular reality into a series of interlocking information orders-aesthetic, geographic, mineralogical… and so on (Pratt 125).” Just like these early explorers who artificially prescribed their own meaning onto Africa through categorizing different genera (I always try to whip that word out when I can) of plant life, I was in a way doing the same. Sure, I was a ten year old looking at animal slides on New Years, but perhaps subconsciously I was boxing in Africa as strictly a place where one could see wild animals. Through putting animals into different groups, I was better able to understand, and perhaps control, the “other” that was Africa.

I am not implying I did anything wrong as a ten year old looking at those slides. But it is important to note from where we have certain pre conceived notions about certain places, and realize they never paint the complete picture. It is fine to appreciate the rich wildlife that is home to Africa, but it is not fine to see it strictly as the continent with animals.

Sources

Roberson, Susan L., and Mary L. Pratt. Defining Travel: Diverse Visions. University of Mississippi, 2002. Print.

Skull surgery, the hot new trend.

Examples of 16th century trepanation instruments.

There is a wealth of historical records of the presence of trepanation in many cultures. For the uninformed, trepanation is the (somewhat outdated) process of putting a hole in the skull of a living person, mostly for surgical practices, although the process tends to have more spiritualistic roots. It has been known for a while that the earliest signs of this skull-drilling have been found in numerous forms and in various parts of Europe, South America, the Middle East, and even some parts of Egypt and greater Africa, with findings dating as far back as 3000 B.C. in the Danube River basin, and as far back as 11,000 B.C. in modern-day Morocco. However, a recent archaeological study released this past August suggests evidence of trepanation in a previously unforeseen location.

Anthropologist Efthymia Nikita, along with her colleagues at the University of Cambridge, recently published a paper in the International Journal of Osteoarchaeology outlining the analysis of three skulls of Garamantian men, excavated by past researchers near the ancient capital of Garama (currently southwestern Libya). The skulls contained various styles and sizes of holes and indentations. The Garamantes were a people who thrived in the northern Sahara from around 1100 B.C. to 600 A.D. The paper can be found in its entirety here. *NOTE: a subscription to the journal may be required to view the paper. Columbia students can follow this link, and search for "Evidence of Trephinations among the Garamantes."

Perforation (arrow 1) and depression (arrow 2) in the skull of a Garamantian young adult male.  (Nikita et al, p3) 

In the article, Nikita and her team have surmised that the holes studied in two of the three skulls (Individuals GER011.T20 and TAG012.T3) are concrete evidence of the practice of trepanation in the northern Sahara (Nikita et al, p5). This is an important find for a number of reasons. First, it backs up the evidence of North African trade routes from 2000 - 3000 years ago, since the dates on these artifacts match up with those of other findings of trepanation in other parts of Africa and southern Europe/the Mediterranean. Second, it establishes the fact that humans and material goods were not the only things crossing trade borders during this era.

Trepanations (arrows 1 and 2) in individual GER011.T20. Through a lengthy analysis by Nikita's team, this was discovered to be the skull of a middle-aged man, around 55 years old. Noticeable signs of healing indicate a "successful" surgical procedure, in that the patient survived. (Nikita et al, p3)

According to this article about the finding from Science News, Nikita stated, given the evidence of these trade networks, that "the knowledge of cranial surgical techniques must have been among the cultural traits that spread among populations." This is a significant reveal with regards to the migration and mutation of culture in Africa. The expansion of certain medical practices, including this ancient form of skull surgery, contributes to the various other ideas spread through migration and trade, such as various forms of artisanship.

Most people in the medical community would say that trapanning, being the oldest form of surgery known to man, and once thought to cater an unbelievably wide range of medical circumstances, is somewhat of an obsolete practice. Despite this, there is a group that still thinks it to be a perfectly reasonable practice. The International Trepanation Advocacy Group (ITAG) firmly supports the practice, under the hypothesis that "making a[n] opening in the skull favorably alters the movement of blood through the brain and improves brain functions which are more important than ever before in history to adapt to an ever more rapidly changing world." That debate, however, is for another time.

(As a side note, the wonderfully cliché relaxing background music on ITAG's website provides a great distraction from their sub-par grammatical structure.)

"The essential ingredient of feasting"

Although many students of archaeology may frequently think about beer, they most likely do not think about beer in the context of African archaeology. Luckily for those curious about both African archaeology and beer there is the enlightening article in the 2003 journal World Archaeology by John W. Arthur titled “Brewing beer: status, wealth and ceramic use alteration among Gamo of south-western Ethiopia”. In this article Arthur elaborates the importance of beer to many African cultures through an extensive literature review and his own ethnoarchaeological research of the ceramic pots of the Gamo people of south-western Ethiopia.

Ethnoarchaeology is defined by dictionary.com as “the branch of archaeology that studies contemporary primitive cultures and technologies as a way of providing analogies and thereby patterns for prehistoric cultures”. In Arthur’s research the ‘primitive culture’ (please excuse the offensive political incorrectness) is the Gamo people and their technology is the production of beer in large ceramic jugs. These jugs become extremely corroded on the inside by the acidity of the fermenting beer. Arthur makes the conclusion that this sort of ‘surface attrition’ found in ceramic jugs could be an indicator of beer production in other African archaeological sites. This finding is significant to archaeology because beer is argued earlier in the article to be important to the culture of the Gamo people as well as many other peoples present and past throughout Africa.

The production of beer requires a substantial amount of grain, bananas, or sorghum as well as many days work, usually done by women. Due to the land and labor-intensive requirements for production, beer is recognized as an important symbol of wealth. The Gamo people use beer in every single religious and political ceremony. This culture is dominated by a hierarchical caste system where the topmost caste, the mala, have complete control over agricultural land. The mala are the only group wealthy enough to produce beer and this subsequently gives them complete power over all religious and political rituals because they require beer. The richest of the mala is chosen by the community to be the ritual sacrificer who performs animal and beer sacrifices for the fertility and healthy the people, crops, and animals. Before the chosen rich mala is officially the ritual sacrificer he must provide two beer feast to all the people in his political district. These feast prove the ritual sacrificer’s wealth because they must produce enough beer and food for around 300 people. Through the beer feasts the community is brought together and the richest person must share his wealth with all. Consequently the Gamo avoid situations like Occupy Wall Street.

In conclusion, it is important to look for the production of beer in the archaeological record because this luxury good can indicate the social relations and wealth of the community. Evidence of ‘surface attrition’ or corrosion of large ceramic vessels indicates the production of beer. Many vessels could point to large-scale production of beer, which results from agricultural success. Large quantities of beer can potentially lead archaeologist to infer cultural qualities like trade, feasts, organization of work parties, taxes and wealth redistribution if paired with other archaeological finds or ethnographic evidence. Evidence of this important social lubricant could indicate complex cultures otherwise lost in the archaeological record.

This article makes me think differently about the significance of my own cultural practices surrounding beer consumption. In my college community as well as in the Gamo community beer brings people together. Although the alcohol content can have an affect on peoples' inhibitions, it can be argued that simply the act of sharing and participating in a common activity can enhance social interactions and strengthen community bonds. This concept reminds me of the classic scene in Judd Apatow's cult classic t.v. show "Freaks and Geeks". In the episode titled "Beers and Wiers" the dorky little brother, Sam, replaces the keg at his sister's house party with a keg of nonalcoholic beer. The party continues with normal high school debauchery and community building even without the interference of alcohol. I wonder if this social experiment would turn out similarly at my own house parties or even at the Gamo beer feasts.

Arthur, John. "Brewing Beer: Status, Wealth and Ceramic Use Alteration among the Gamo of South-western Ethiopia." World Archaeology 34.3 (2003): 516-28.