Miller Margaret-Louise. Archaeological Approaches to Technology

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198 Heather M.-L. Miller: Archaeological Approaches to Technology

of European techniques as well, at least for some Iroquoian groups. Anselmi

thoughtfully discusses these findings in the context of the long history of

anthropological research into cultural contact, in general and for the Iroquoian

groups of North American.

As both of these scholars explicitly addressed issues of technological style

and issues of cultural contact and change in their detailed analyses of large

numbers of artifacts, some sophisticated questions about technological systems

can be asked of their research beyond their solid, useful data on technological

processes. First, what might be the reasons for the differences in the two

regional technological styles, especially cutting methods? After all, at least

some of the Northeastern groups did also have access to European tools like

snips and scissors. One answer to the differences in cutting methods might be

that they had access to different types of raw materials. Ehrhardt (2005: 107)

notes that the European sheet metal (both copper and brass) that was used

at the Iliniwek Village site was quite different from that found on sites in

the East: uniformly flat and smooth without the raising or turning striations

found on most European kettle-based sheet, and much thinner. The Iliniwek

metal is thus much easier to shear and bend, either allowing or requiring

use of the European cutting method–again, experimental studies might be

very helpful. This difference in working properties might explain why the one

or two tools found at Iliniwek were also among the very few objects made

of native copper rather than traded (smelted) copper; the traded metal may

simply have not been suitable to form the tool. Alternatively, or additionally,

the use of shearing techniques for cutting might have related to a desire for

more rapid production at Iliniwek, encouraging the acquisition of a European

bi-bladed shearing tool which was not among the normal trade items, unlike

single-bladed iron cutting tools (knives). Both groups had significant trading

contacts with the Europeans, both merchants and missionaries, and at least

some of the Iroquoians did acquire European snips and scissors, so a simple

explanation related to access is not sufficient; active procurement of these

tools implies a desire for this production style, for whatever reason(s). Hints

of a desire for rapid production might be found in the tendency towards less

finishing in Iliniwek objects, with many examples of rough edges, shearing

burrs, and irregular finishing—what Ehrhardt (2005: 184) refers to as evidence

for expediency in the production processes. As Ehrhardt immediately points

out (citing a conference paper by Latta and Anselmi), the Iliniwek do not seem

incapable of more finished, careful metal work, but rather the expediency

of the work does not seem to matter to the consumers. Steinberg’s (1977)

analysis of the Late Bronze Age Central European metal workers discussed

above provides a parallel. It would be interesting to more thoroughly examine

the Mohawk case, the Iroquoians who made the most use of European snips

or scissors (Anselmi 2004). The abandonment of cutout techniques of cutting

Thematic Studies in Technology 199

by the Iliniwek, in contrast, is almost certainly not about changes in material

availability or expediency of production, but in the fact that use of these

cutouts are no longer a part of the Ilinewek ideological system, as they are no

longer participating in the Southeastern Ceremonial Complex.

Finally, significant differences in the Iroquoian and Ilinewek attitudes

toward metal scrap are puzzling to Ehrhardt (2005: 75, 108, 138, 190–191),

who expected the same sort of careful conservation and reuse of scrap seen

for the Iroquoians, where over 50% of the “scrap” from Wendat (Huron) sites

turned out to be metal pieces used as expedient tools based on use wear stud-

ies (Latta,etal.1998). Latta, Thibaundeau, and Anselmi (1998: 179) explain

this pattern as showing that rather than debitage or wastage, these accumula-

tions of irregular bits of metal served as stores of raw material to be drawn on

at need. In contrast, while metal discards from the Ilinewek site often show

signs of working prior to disposal and some are even prepared blanks, there

is no evidence of curation or reuse. Ehrhardt notes that this could be due to

a very regular supply of metal to the Illinois, decreasing the value and status

of the metal, but she also notes that this metal could have been traded into

the other regions farther from European trading contacts where the Illinois

had regular trade contacts. Comparative information from other Illinois sites

might help to resolve this issue, indicating how unusual or typical the pattern

of discard at Ilinewek Villege might be for the Illinois.

To return to the large-scale North American pattern of metal working,

I noted that groove-and-snap techniques were commonly used, even after

European contact in many areas. An analogous persistence in the use of

groove-and-snap techniques in spite of the availability and indeed the use

of European tools is found in bone working assemblages from the opposite

side of North America. Wake (1999) examined bone artifacts and working

debris from excavations at the nineteenth-century fur trading and agricultural

outpost of Colony Ross, north of San Francisco on the California coast. Colony

Ross was run by the fur-trading Russian-American Company (RAC), and

housed Russian colonists, local Kashaya Pomo Native Californians, and Aleut

and Qikertarmiut Native Alaskan specialist sea otter hunters hired by the

company. The Native Alaskans were recognized as tremendously effective sea

otter hunters, which was why the Russians brought them to Colony Ross.

The Russians thus had every incentive to provide the sea otter hunters with

whatever was needed for their very efficient traditional hunting methods,

as is borne out by historical accounts. These Alaskan traditional hunting

techniques employed bone arrow and dart points used in compound throwing

tools, made by the Native Alaskan community. Wake (1999: 198–199) found

that although metal knives, saws, and other tools were made available by the

Russians, the bone workers used these tools in traditional North American

ways. Specifically, bone shaping was done not by sawing, but by grooving

200 Heather M.-L. Miller: Archaeological Approaches to Technology

or scoring the bones with a small or medium-sized metal knife around the

circumference, then snapping the bone along this line. Even on the rare

occasions (three cases) where saw marks have been found on bone working

debris, the bone was grooved and snapped, not cut completely through in

the European manner of saw use. As Wake indicates, the metal cutting tools

were completely incorporated into the technological style of bone working

as superior versions of existing tools, but the techniques and products were

scarcely changed.

This continued use of bone hunting tools, rather than adopting metal

harpoons, is in itself a noteworthy aspect of the assemblage. Wake (1999)

mentions that this is the case for most archaeological sites in Alaska as well,

with metal harpoons only found after the 1850s, and that there is no mention

of metal tool use in hunting any marine mammal in the available historical

record. Wake provides a number of explanations that highlight the fallacy

of the “metal is always better” attitude toward tool use: bone toolkits were

probably easier to maintain and produce than metal tools and bone easier

to procure, and bone tools would not corrode in the marine environment.

Furthermore, he notes that the use of heavier metal tools might require the

acquisition of new throwing patterns for these already master hunters. In

addition, Wake mentions that there are ethnographic and historical accounts

that metal tools were not spiritually appropriate for hunting marine mammals

for Native Alaskans. (Presumably this bar did not extend to the use of metal

tools to make the bone hunting tools.) Such stipulations about the use or

prohibition of particular materials for hunting particular types of animals is

seen in McGhee’s (1977) discussion of the use of sea mammal bone and

ivory for making tools for hunting sea animals and birds, while antler tools

were used to hunt caribou and other land animals, for the historic Inuit

and prehistoric Thule of the North American Arctic. Although subsequent

research has shown that these associations were not necessarily as strong as

found in McGhee’s cases, all of these investigations of technological style show

that both ideological and materialist factors need to be considered.

There are many other examples of differences in technological traditions

seen in different technological styles of production. The recognition of differ-

ent technological traditions of flint-knapping allowed Luedtke (1999a, 1999b)

to differentiate historic-period gunflints made by Euro-Americans and Native

Americans in northeastern North America, by the different technological styles

of flaking patterns. Russell’s (2001a; 2001b) analysis of the Eastern European,

Anatolian, and Baluchi bone working traditions, described in Chapter 3, is a

good example of a case where end-products and working techniques are quite

similar, yet the methods of organizing production appear to be very different.

Shah (1985) describes three completely different technological systems for

making terracotta figurines in Gujarat, India, with three different types of

Thematic Studies in Technology 201

clays, different manufacturing techniques, different types of craftspeople in

terms of gender and professional skills, and different organizational systems

for production and distribution; yet all of these figurines are used to represent

the same objects, spirits, and desires in the same religious ritual system. In

the next chapter, I continue this exploration of technological traditions with

an examination of the development of new materials in the Indus Valley Tra-

dition, and their possible relation to social communications about status and

group identity.

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CHAPTER

Thematic Studies in

Technology (Continued)

The discussions of innovation and technological style in Chapter 5 are also

related to the topics of this chapter. In the first section, I examine innova-

tions in the materials used to make ornaments and “luxury” goods in the

Indus Valley Tradition of South Asia, and how the use and development of

these new materials relates to continuities and changes in the technological

traditions of this region, particularly in relation to apparent changes in social

status and identity. In the second section, I examine the technologies used

in religious rituals in the American Southwest, again seeing examples of

changing and continuing technological practices. However, additional archae-

ological approaches and topics are also covered in this chapter, such as

the archaeological determination of the relative value of objects for prehis-

toric societies, and the relationship between valued objects and status. The

importance of discard patterns illustrated in the second section shows why

technological systems do not end with consumption, and why archaeologists

are so precise about the exact structure of heaps of garbage.

VALUE, STATUS, AND SOCIAL RELATIONS:

THE ROLE OF NEW ARTIFICIAL MATERIALS

IN THE INDUS VALLEY TRADITION

Speaking of the use of lapis lazuli and turquoise by Harappans, Jean-François

Jarrige once said “They didn’t like them because they couldn’t play with them.”

In all Harappan craft production, a major emphasis is placed on the creation of

artificial substances more than on the employment of precious, well recognizable

raw materials.

(Vidale 1989: 180)

Heather M.-L. Miller: Archaeological Approaches to Technology

203

204 Heather M.-L. Miller: Archaeological Approaches to Technology

In Chapters 3 and 4, I discussed one way to divide material-based approaches

to craft production, into “extractive-reductive” and “transformative” crafts.

Transformative crafts transform raw materials through pyrotechnology or

chemical processes to create a new human-created (artificial) material. The

vast majority of crafts of this type were pyrotechnologies, technologies involv-

ing the transformative application of heat as an essential part of production,

such as the production of pottery and other baked clay objects, metals, glass,

and lime plaster. In this examination of the role of new artificial materials in

the Indus Valley Tradition of South Asia, I discuss one aspect of the question

“Why were such new materials invented and adopted?”

USES OF ARTIFICIAL MATERIALS

Artificial materials, materials that have had their basic physical or chemical

structure transformed by human action, were invented and adopted for a vari-

ety of reasons. Many such materials were eventually used for both utilitarian

and nonutilitarian objects. The common assumption is that new materials

were first employed for tools or other “utilitarian” applications, stemming

from the popular belief that technological invention was all about necessity

from a food-procuring, shelter-creating point of view. In fact, many of the

major classes of artificial materials invented in antiquity were first used for

quite different purposes. Here I need to be clear about my use of the term

“utilitarian.” The narrowest definitions of “utilitarian” refer only to objects

related to physical survival in terms of essential food procurement and shelter.

Other definitions include additional objects perceived as necessary for physical

survival by the people who owned them. For people with biologically-based

conceptions of illness, invisible agents such as viruses or bacteria are seen as a

primary cause of illness, and so proper sanitation systems and hygienic prac-

tices are seen as necessary for physical survival. For people with spiritually-

based conceptions of illness, which can be either alternatives or additions to

biologically-based causal agents, diseases are also caused by witches or evil

spirits, and so many sorts of amulets, ritual objects, and religious rituals form

an intensely practical defense for good health and continued physical survival.

I myself would classify religious objects and rituals as “utilitarian” where they

pertained directly to the protection of health, food procurement, and fertility

for the people who employed them. How to determine this archaeologically is

a challenge, of course, but considering the creative ways that archaeologists

have managed to address elusive topics of gender, social status, and ideological

belief systems, it is certainly not an impossible task.

Thematic Studies in Technology (Continued) 205

The first pyrotechnologies, other than the relatively low temperatures used

in cooking, seem to be used as part of religious rituals which might or might

not be classified as utilitarian uses. Such early pyrotechnologies include the

roasting of red ochre to brighten its color and the firing of clay figurines,

both in the Upper Paleolithic (Schmandt-Besserat 1980; Vandiver, et al. 1989).

However, it is not clear that these pyrotechnologies are being used to create new

materials; that is, they are not necessarily transformative. Cooked food is seen

as different than raw, but it is not usually described as a new material. (This in

itself would be an interesting case for further study.) Similarly, intensifying the

color of red ochre might or might not be perceived by its users as the creation

of a new material; other than intensification of color, the characteristics of the

material are not much changed. More clearly, the firing of clay figurines in

Eastern Europe seems to be a part of the ritual activity rather than a desire

to create a new material, fired clay. As Vandiver et al. (1989) describe, the

clay figurines were formed, then thrown into an existing fire, where they

tended to break or explode in the process of firing. The authors interpret

this sequence as a case where the process of making and firing was itself the

desired end—to ensure fertility? good health? bad health to enemies?—rather

than the production of a fired clay figurine. Alternately, the disposal of the

figurines in the fire might not have been part of the ritual process but rather

part of the disposal process, ensuring the proper disposal of these objects. Both

alternatives are discussed for other cases of ritual technology in the last section

of this chapter. Either of these explanations is better supported by the data

than the wish to create figurines from a new material, fired clay. The deliberate

firing of clay to create a new material, terracotta, occurs thousands of years

after its first use for figurines, in the much later creation of pottery vessels,

figurines, and other objects. Another early pyrotechnology, the creation of

lime plaster, is also used for primarily religious reasons, in the creation of

the plastered figurines and skulls of the Levant (Grissom 2000). In this case,

however, lime plaster is also used to make floors at around the same time,

and is used to make vessels soon after, both clearly functional (Kingery, et al.

1988). In all of the lime plaster examples, a new material is created—the

plaster created from crushed fired rock and clay mixed together into a soft

wet slurry that sets to a hard white surface. Fire is necessary to create this

material, and the new material is clearly the desired end point of the process

of firing and mixing.

Why does it matter if materials are primarily used for “utilitarian” purposes

or not—isn’t this just quibbling over pointless definitions, definitions that

obscure rather than aid our understanding of the topic? To some degree this

is very true, and I agree with the points made by Wilk (2001) and others

in discussions of how the division between “needs” and “wants” tends to be

ethnocentric and moralistic. On the other hand, I have so carefully discussed

206 Heather M.-L. Miller: Archaeological Approaches to Technology

what I mean by “utilitarian” because I think there are some interesting points

to be made about the relationship between the creation of new materials for

nonutilitarian purposes and the desire (or need!) for visible methods of status

differentiation. Walker (2001: 88) offers a broader explanation as to why this

definitional distinction matters for the investigation of ancient technologies.

He notes that while it is interesting and useful to know any additional symbolic

meanings attached to utilitarian objects, for nonutilitarian objects “what they

mean is far more important than what they do.” I would twist this slightly, to

say that the primary function of “nonutilitarian” objects, what they primarily

do, is to convey meaning.

Many ofthenew artificial materials created in the pasttenthousandyears were

first used in the creation of ornaments and amulets, serving vessels, small ves-

sels used to hold precious oils or cosmetics, and other sorts of “display” objects

(mirrors, decorative objects, inlays). That is, many new human-created materi-

als were first used for reasons other than physical survival, as luxury or status-

marking items, items whose primary function was to convey meaning about their

owners. This appears to have generally been the case in most regions of the world

for the earliest metals, including copper and iron as well as gold and silver. It

was assuredly the case for the Eurasian complexes of glazed stones and faiences,

glasses, and porcelains. More recently, many of the earliest plastics were used

for jewelry and ornamental boxes. Although certainly not always the case, lime

plaster and fired clay being equivocal cases and concrete being a clear exception,

a frequent general pattern seems to be that when and where these materials

were rare, they were used to make ornaments or small display objects. Once

the materials became common, with increased production, they were frequently

used for tools and other utilitarian purposes as well.

I have observed that most new artificial materials are first employed to

make either religious objects or status-marking objects. It is noteworthy that

the later cases of the metals and vitreous materials relate to the marking of

status differences, while the earlier uses of fired clay and plaster for ritual uses

are found prior to the development of strongly hierarchically ranked societies.

The example discussed in this section examines the former case in which

social status differentiation, the marking of classes, was a primary function of

both the new artificial materials and the objects created from them.

STATUS DIFFERENTIATION AND THE DEVELOPMENT

VITREOUS MATERIALS

The range of vitreous materials created across Eurasia, from glazed stone to

glass, provide a variety of examples for discussing the invention and adoption

of new materials to create ornaments or other luxury goods that acted as

Thematic Studies in Technology (Continued) 207

Mehrgarh

Mohenjo-daro

Harappa

Indian Ocean

---- extent of Indus civilization

FIGURE 6.1 Map of Indus Valley region, showing sites of Harappa, Mohenjo-daro, and

Mehrgarh/Nausharo.

status markers. The manufacturing processes for these materials are described

in Chapter 4; here I will look more closely at the cultural context for the

development of the talc-faience complex in the Indus Valley region of South

Asia, from the seventh through the third millennia

BCE (Figures 6.1 and 6.2)

Like the other great semi-arid floodplains of the world, in the Indus Valley

there is only clay and sand and vegetation for hundreds of kilometers—all

other raw materials have to be imported. However, with water, the land is very

fertile, and agriculture and animal husbandry have been major occupations and

sources of wealth. Furthermore, regions rich in minerals and timber surround

the Indus, and in many cases these regions are connected to the Indus Valley

by the extensive river transportation systems. Much of this description is

typical of all the early floodplain civilizations of the Eastern Hemisphere, the

first groups of people to create urban environments and state-level social and

political hierarchies. The Indus Integration Era is also the time when powerful

leaders in Egypt and the Near East ruled great city-states and empires, so it

is not surprising that the same sort of political structure was expected for the

Indus. But this does not seem to be the case.