People with Animals: Perspectives and Studies in Ethnozooarchaeology

People with Animals emphasizes the interdependence of people and animals in society, and contributors examine the variety of forms and time-depth that these relations can take. The types of relationship studied include the importance of manure to farming societies, dogs as livestock guardians, seasonality in pastoralist societies, butchery, symbolism and food. Examples are drawn from the Pleistocene to the present day and from the Altai Mountains, Ethiopia, Iraq, Italy, Mongolia and North America. The 11 papers work from the basis that animals are an integral part of society and that past society is the object of most archaeological inquiry. Discussion papers explore this topic and use the case-studies presented in other contributions to suggest the importance of ethnozooarchaeology not just to archaeology but also to anthrozoology. A further contribution to archaeological theory is made by an argument for the validity of ethnozooarchaeology derived models to Neanderthals. The book makes a compelling case for the importance of human-animal relations in the archaeological record and demonstrates why the information contained in this record is of significance to specialists in other disciplines.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Oxbow Books
• Release date: Mar 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781785702488

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Broderick, Lee G.

Title: People with animals : perspectives & studies in ethnozooarchaeology / edited by Lee G. Broderick.

Description: Oxford : Oxbow Books, 2016. | Includes bibliographical references.

Identifiers: LCCN 2015049026 (print) | LCCN 2015050021 (ebook) | ISBN 9781785702471 (softcover) | ISBN 9781785702488 (digital) | ISBN 9781785702488 (epub) | ISBN 9781785702501 (pdf) | ISBN 9781785702495 (mobi)

Subjects: LCSH: Ethnoarchaeology. | Animal remains (Archaeology) | Human-animal relationships--History. | Agriculture, Prehistoric. | Livestock--History.

Classification: LCC CC79.E85 P46 2016 (print) | LCC CC79.E85 (ebook) | DDC 930.1/0285--dc23

LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015049026

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Front cover: Sheep shearing in Mongolia (Photo © Lee Broderick, 2012).

CONTENTS

List of Contributors

GALA ARGENT

Department of Psychology, Eastern Kentucky University, USA

ELIZABETH R. ARNOLD

Anthropology Department, Grand Valley State University, USA

ROBIN BENDREY

Department of Archaeology, University of Reading, UK

LEE G. BRODERICK

Department of Archaeology, University of York, UK

BENJAMIN COLLINS

Department of Anthropology, McGill University, USA

AARON DETER-WOLF

Tennessee Division of Archaeology, Tennessee, USA

SARAH ELLIOTT

Department of Archaeology, University of Reading, UK

JEAN-LUC HOULE

Department of Folk Studies and Anthropology, Western Kentucky University, USA

ELAN N. LOVE

Independent Researcher, Montana, USA

DIANE LYONS

Department of Anthropology and Archaeology, University of Calgary, Canada

ROGER MATTHEWS

Department of Archaeology, University of Reading, UK

WENDY MATTHEWS

Department of Archaeology, University of Reading, UK

TERRY O’CONNOR

Department of Archaeology, University of York, UK

TANYA M. PERES

Department of Anthropology, Florida State University, USA

KAMAL RAUF AZIZ

Directorate of Antiquities and Heritage, Kurdistan Regional Government, Iraq

MICHAEL WALLACE

Department of Archaeology, University of Sheffield, UK

JADE WHITLAM

Department of Archaeology, University of Reading, UK

Part 1

Thinking with Animals

1

PEOPLE WITH ANIMALS: A PERSPECTIVE OF ETHNOZOOARCHAEOLOGY

Lee G. Broderick

At once backward- and forward-looking, this paper explores the role that ethnozooarchaeology can play in broadening our horizons in both archaeological and anthrozoological research. Communicating research effectively has never been more important than it is now and the use of language and writing style in achieving this is discussed. The development of the sub-discipline is outlined and a robust defence is made of the use of analogy in archaeological interpretations and the appropriateness of utilising ethnohistorical data within an ethnoarchaeological research framework. It is suggested that ethnozooarchaeological studies, placing an emphasis on how people lived with animals in the past, provide an important context for exploring ancient human societies.

It is a tradition of sorts for introductory chapters to edited volumes to begin by unpacking their title. I have deliberately eschewed using the word ‘introduction’ in the title of this paper, which I hope is more wide-ranging than that term implies. Nevertheless, it does play that role and the title seems an appropriate place to begin. Where do I hope that ‘People with Animals: Perspectives and Studies in Ethnozooarchaeology’ should fit into our discipline? ‘Ethnozooarchaeology’ may appear on the surface of things to be another attention seeking form of deliberate discipline fragmentation. Its use is a very recent phenomenon, deriving from two recent sessions at international conferences (Ethnozooarchaeology by Umberto Albarella at ICAZ 2006, in Mexico City, Mexico, and Ethnozooarchaeology: European Perspectives by Lee G. Broderick at EAA 2010, in The Hague, Belgium). The first of these sessions produced a proceedings volume (EthnoZooArchaeology: The Present and Past of Human–Animal Relationships – Albarella and Trentacoste, 2011) and the second is loosely connected with this volume (two authors and one paper were carried through the eventual transition to print). What both volumes emphasise in their titles is the interdependence of people with animals.

The development of ethnozooarchaeology

Dropping the middle ‘zoo’ for the moment, ‘ethnoarchaeology’ is a term that has been around for much longer – apparently coined by Jesse Fewkes in 1900 (David and Kramer, 2001, p. 6). This then, has a far longer pedigree than the neologism for which I am seemingly partly responsible. Like many such terms, however, the way in which it is understood today is not entirely the same as that in which it was first meant. The origins of ethnoarchaeology as we define it now have been attributed to the period from around 1956 through the 1970s (David and Kramer, 2001, pp. 6–9). The development of zooarchaeology as a recognised subdiscipline may be placed at a similar time (Trigger, 2006, p. 361) and so it may be supposed that ethnoarchaeology has always contained a strong zooarchaeological component. Prominent ethnozooarchaeological work was indeed carried out at this time, principally with the aim of understanding activity areas and taphonomic pathways (e.g. Binford, 1978; Brain, 1981) – O’Connor’s jocular call to arms, ‘bring on the taphonomists!’, concluding this volume, should properly be understood in this light, as many zooarchaeologists reading it most probably will. In fact, the preoccupation with identifying activity areas and site-layouts continues to occupy many ethnoarchaeologists (David and Kramer, 2001, p. 24) and zooarchaeologists are no different in this respect.

Two of the papers in this volume could, in fact, be seen as in some way continuing this tradition. Arnold and Lyons’ study of commercial (or community?) butchery in a Sudanese village is principally directed towards what parts of the carcass end up where and what this might tell us about an archaeological site. In this respect, it shares much in common with Binford’s and Brain’s seminal studies but it also differs in a crucial aspect – the commerciality of the enterprise. It has been postulated that ‘the relative lack of consideration of faunal remains in the archaeology of societies more complex than hunter-gatherers is … due in large part to the absence of ethnoarchaeological models for interpreting them’ (David and Kramer, 2001, p. 126). Many zooarchaeologists might protest at the suggestion that their work is not considered in interpretations of agricultural, pastoralist and complex societies, and justifiably so; even if this assertion were true there are probably many more factors contingent upon it than merely an absence of appropriate ethnoarchaeological models (cf. Broderick, 2014). Nonetheless, in exploring an area in which ethnoarchaeological investigation has proven successful within a different societal framework the study offers fresh insight. Society – communities of people – is probably the unspoken ultimate object of enquiry for most archaeological studies. Exploring the ways in which apparently necessary tasks may vary between different types of society, as Arnold and Lyons do here, may then be the ultimate purpose of ethnoarchaeology if we accept Binford’s (1983) conjecture that we can use it to build middle range theory.

Of course, that conjecture has not gone unchallenged in the intervening years. David and Kramer (2001, p. 5) have asserted that ‘ethnoarchaeology is often guilty of studying material with inadequate consideration of context.’ This is related to an observation that ‘processualist’ approaches have often sought to produce ‘general laws’ (David and Kramer, 2001, p. 40) – an obvious criticism of middle range theory. Appropriate contextualisation is fundamental to effective ethnographic analogy. Establishing an appropriate context is far easier said than done, however. The very fact that we are undertaking ethnoarchaeological research suggests that the contemporary society we are studying may be different from the archaeologically attested one with which we wish to compare it. In an ideal world, it might be possible to suggest some degree of relatedness between past and present populations and to argue a relatedness of culture and society on that basis. Where that is not possible – which is most often – other contexts must be sought and these must be made explicit (cf. relational and formal anaology, e.g. Wylie, 1985). It may, for example, be appropriate to contextualise an ethnographic account by way of climate or landscape. Houle establishes both these contexts in comparing contemporary settlement patterns and seasonality in Mongolia in his contribution to this volume. Seasonality is another subject which Binford (1978) examined amongst the Nunamiut but here, just as with Arnold and Lyon’s paper, it is a subject given fresh perspective through being applied to a complex society. It is also the second paper in this volume dealing with site patterns – here though, we must use the term ‘site’ rather loosely in applying it to an entire valley. Houle’s ultimate focus of enquiry is that unspoken entity referred to earlier in this essay – society. In the context of Inner Asian pastoralism it seems reasonable to refer to the sparsely distributed inhabitants as a society (the aggregate of people living together in a more or less ordered community – Stevenson and Waite, 2011).

Ethnozooarchaeology and analogy

Bendrey et al., like Houle, seek to employ ethnographic analogy within the confines of understanding a specific society – in their case Neolithic Iraqi Kurdistan. The authors’ handling of their subject is deft – acknowledging both the strengths and weakness of their particular context and of wider criticisms of ethnoarchaeology and the use of analogy within archaeology. If ethnoarchaeology truly is more prominently processualist in its outlook than some other disciplines (and especially zooarchaeological ethnoarchaeology) as averred by David and Kramer (2001, p. 126) then that might go some way towards explaining one source of attack made on it from the 1980’s onwards. The use of analogy in archaeology has attracted sustained, if not widespread, criticism (e.g. Gould and Watson, 1982; Spriggs, 2008; Tilley, 1999). Such criticism is most often directed at either a misconception or else a misuse of analogy, however. Analogy is fundamental to archaeology as an interpretive discipline. We interpret the world through our own experience and, as Albarella (2011, p. 1) noted, no individual can experience the full range of human behaviours. Ethnoarchaeology alerts scholars to different behaviours and invites them to develop existing and design new analytical approaches (David and Kramer, 2001, p. 16). In other words, ethnoarchaeology ought to expand our perceptions rather than restrict them. Ultimately, if we do not employ analogy explicitly when interpreting in our research, we must do so implicitly and there is a real danger that interpretations made in such a way are either truly restrictive or else fictitious. Ethnoarchaeology is merely one source of analogy made more or less explicit.

It’s possible that some archaeologists genuinely distrust analogy, if so, this may be because of a systematic rift in reasoning. Archaeology is a principally deductive subject – we know that ‘A’ always equals ‘B’ and we know that ‘C’ conforms with ‘A’, therefore it must also be ‘B’ (elementary, my dear Watson). Ethnoarchaeology, however, is an inherently inductive subject – ‘A’ sometimes equals ‘B’ and we know that ‘C’ conforms with ‘A’, that does not mean that ‘C’ is ‘B’, although it might be (sorry Watson, I can’t help it if you’re perplexed and disappointed). As has been pointed out elsewhere, analogical inference, used appropriately, should alert us to weak hypotheses and lead us to make stronger interpretations (Wylie, 1985, 1982). As suggested earlier, the relevance of an ethnoarchaeological case rests upon its context and it may be that it often creates particular models rather than generalisations (David and Kramer, 2001, p. 21), as in the case of the Kurd farmers discussed by Bendrey et al.

Generalisations

Can generalisations ever be made based upon ethnoarchaeological research? Contrary to what some may believe, generalisations and models are not meant to be universally applicable, infallible laws. In fact, they exist for precisely the opposite reason – they are tools with which we can begin to explore differences. Does one case differ from the others? In what way? How can we explain it? It is in answering these questions, perhaps especially the latter, that ethnoarchaeological analogy can play a crucial role. If the purpose of analogy is not to suggest a like-for-like behaviour but a possibility, as I have just advocated, then generalisations do have a role to play.

A good example of this general analogy from specific case study is provided by Broderick and Wallace in this volume. Context remains important but despite the study being carried out in present day Ethiopia, pains are taken to suggest possible application to Bronze Age Europe based on climatic similarity. Elsewhere, one of the authors has explored similarities with Mediaeval Europe in a related paper (Broderick, 2012a). Applying the results of this project, or suggesting that they could be, to vastly different periods, cultures and locations is then a feature of this work. Crucially, however, the authors do not seek to employ their analogy in any specific way – in fact despite establishing some degree of context, as I have defined it here, the conclusions are determinedly general. The point of the paper here is not to discuss one specific society that kept animals for their excrement but to point out, through one specific example, that this is a possibility. This then, has relevance beyond Ethiopian archaeology and ethnography and is ethnozooarchaeology for the explicit purpose of broadening our horizons – we know that this choice is possible because we have seen it here, it should, therefore, be considered as a choice in other mixed agriculture economies.

Just how far can we push generalisations, though? According to Collins, much further than some would think. In his review of the applicability of ethnoarchaeological models derived from studies of Anatomically Modern Humans (AMH) to Neandertal populations he proposes that there are no sound biological reasons to dismiss them. This might be thought of as another kind of context and it is one from which consideration can now be moved on to the other kinds already elaborated here – cultural (clearly not appropriate), climatic and geographical. These latter two types of context also pose problems for the appropriate use of ethnographic analogy in European Palaeolithic archaeology – whether of Neandertal or AMH populations. The climate (and, indeed, ecology) has altered dramatically from the Pleistocene to today and hunter-gatherers have disappeared from the European landmass (cf. Banks et al., 2008, who specifically suggest problems with applying Binford’s Nunamiut observations to this period).

Ethno-hist-zooarchaeology?

Russ conducts an extensive review of ethnohistorical sources in order to try and determine archaeological signatures of fishing for the Pleistocene in Europe – both AMH and Neandertal populations. Her sources are principally North American (although there is one European example) and many were carried out by ethnographers with rather different interests to those that an ethnozooarchaeologist might have. David and Kramer (2001, p. 11) specifically exclude studies making use of the ethnohistorical record from their definition of ethnoarchaeology. This appears to me to be not only overly proscriptive but slightly precious. Not all archaeologists are fortunate enough to work in an environment where they can conduct primary ethnographic research to help understand their site. If the distinction between ethnoarchaeology and ethnography or anthropology is purpose – an intent to understand the archaeological record through ethnographic research – then why should research such as this, which reworks earlier research for the same purpose, be excluded?

Russ’s work shows us that through careful reading and comparison it is possible to derive archaeological models from studies carried out for rather different purposes. In looking for specific signatures of fishing practices she is also seeking to identify a particular type of human-animal interaction. Peres and Deter-Wolf also use the ethno-historical record from North America but for a rather different purpose. Their intent is to build a new model through which to explain the presence of garfish on archaeological sites. This is far more context specific than Russ’s exploration of fishing practices and focuses on the use of gar beyond any subsistence need. It is, then, a rather different type of human-animal interaction and one which gives evidence to the variety of forms such interactions can take – animal remains on an archaeological site should not result in a simple ‘animals + people = people exploited animals’ equation. That may sometimes be a simple truth but human and animal behaviour is often rather more complex than that.

Ethnozooarcheology and anthrozoology

Love draws on a wide range of sources – including the ethnohistoric – in exploring the potential early development of a specific kind of livestock dog. This is a paper which is deep-rooted in specific context and yet which shares many attributes with Russ’s and with Peres and Deter-Wolf’s papers in seeking to understand an archaeological phenomenon through exploration of historical sources. Love goes beyond this though and draws comparison with contemporary populations in the same region (like Bendrey et al. and Houle) and explores genetic relatedness (like Collins, although Love is concerned with canine, rather than human, genetics). It is then, a concise paper which showcases many of the approaches advocated here. In exploring the origins of ‘man’s best friend’, Love also goes some way towards summarising the ‘people with animals’ paradigm proposed in this book.

Zooarchaeologists may be dimly aware of a growing movement in anthropology which seeks to recognise the agency of non-human animals. Variously termed ‘anthrozoology’ or ‘human-animal studies’ there is a sense among some that this is a process of giving a voice to an overlooked subject (Hurn, 2010). In that sense, there are parallels that can be drawn with the various gender-movements in the social sciences and humanities that grew largely in the 1980s and 1990s and are now largely seen as being a relatively mainstream part of their disciplines. Predicting the future is well beyond the bounds of this essay but the anthropocentic nature of archaeology suggests that non-human animals will never be given the same privileges in research that humans have been. It is not the aim here to argue that they should be either – the purpose of archaeology is and should be to investigate the human past. What the papers in this book should, hopefully, achieve, however is reminding us that animals can act independently and play a role in society – that is the sum of relations between people, their environment and their culture (David and Kramer, 2001, p. 35). Animals, of course, can play a significant role in the last two aspects.

In his afterword to this volume, O’Connor notes that horses are curiously negligible in the archaeological record of mediaeval Britain despite our historical knowledge of their importance at that time. This calls to mind a reverse situation in Inner Asia which illustrates well some of the difficulties of ethnoarchaeological research. Houle and Argent both engage with the subject of the importance of horses in Iron Age Inner Asia in their separate papers in this volume – and both do so in a way which suggests a different kind of importance. That horses are a notable occurrence in prehistoric monuments in the region has long been known and Houle’s paper here, as well as others (e.g. Bendrey, 2011; Broderick and Houle, 2013; Frachetti and Benecke, 2009; Outram et al., 2009) are beginning to demonstrate their widespread (and long suspected) economic importance. Historical records, too, perhaps most famously those concerning the Mongols, just like in Britain and Europe, attest to their continued importance long after this time. Do our eyes, though, deceive us?

To the modern observer, horses continue to exist in a role of exalted cultural and economic importance in parts of Inner Asia today – even if modern state politics and the combustion engine are jointly contriving to limit their use in two traditional roles of significance for them. Trying to pin down that importance and the reasons behind it, however, is a curiously, frustratingly, difficult task for the ethnographer (Broderick, 2012b). It is, in fact, a peculiar situation which sees the archaeological record brought in to add support to otherwise insubstantial ethnographic observations (e.g. Fijn, 2011, pp. 153–159). Ethnozooarchaeology, then, should not be limited to a side role in interpreting the archaeological record but has the potential to be an important bridging discipline – one which uses the evidence of both the archaeological and ethnographic records to test our assumptions about both, just as Love does here.

Finding our voice

Elsewhere in his afterword, O’Connor discusses the role that language plays in our research – with particular reference to the anthropomorphism