Violence and the sacred in the ancient near east girardian conversations at çatalhöyük ian hodder -
Violence and the Sacred in
Ancient Near East Girardian Conversations at Çatalhöyük Ian Hodder
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Art and Immortality in the Ancient Near East Mehmet-Ali
Dorothy Garrod and the Progress of the Palaeolithic Studies in the Prehistoric Archaeology of the Near East and Europe William Davies Editor Ruth Charles Editor
This volume brings together two groups engaged with understanding the relationships between religion and violence. The first group consists of scholars of the mimetic theory of René Girard, for whom human violence is rooted in the rivalry that stems from imitation. To manage this violence of all against all, humans often turn to violence against one, the scapegoat, thereafter incorporated into ritual. The second group consists of archaeologists working at the Neolithic sites of Çatalhöyük and Göbekli Tepe in Turkey. At both sites there is evidence of religious practices that center on wild animals, often large and dangerous in form. Is it possible that these wild animals were ritually killed in the ways suggested by Girardian theorists? Were violence and the sacred intimately entwined and were these the processes that made possible and even stimulated the origins of farming in the ancient Near East? In this volume, Ian Hodder and a team of contributors seek to answer these questions by linking theory and data in exciting new ways.
Ian Hodder is Dunlevie Family Professor of Archaeology at Stanford University. A Fellow of the British Academy, he has received numerous awards for his accomplishments, including the Oscar Montelius Medal from the Swedish Society of Antiquaries, the Huxley Memorial Medal by the Royal Anthropological Institute, the Fyssen International Prize, and the Gold Medal by the Archaeological Institute of America, along with honorary doctorates from the universities of Bristol and Leiden. Hodder is the author of numerous books, including Symbols in Action, Reading the Past and Entangled: An Archaeology of the Relationships between Humans and Things.
Bull and figures from north wall of James Mellaart’s “Shrine F.V.1,” transcribed by Miss Raymonde Enderlé Ludovici. Permission: Alan Mellaart.
Pair of “leopards” from west wall of James Mellaart’s “Shrine VII.44.” Permission: Alan Mellaart.
Violence and the Sacred in the Ancient Near East
Girardian Conversation at Çatalhöyük
Edited By IAN HODDER
Stanford University
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Title: Violence and the sacred in the ancient Near East : Girardian conversation at Çatalhöyük / edited by Ian Hodder. Description: Cambridge, United Kingdom; New York, NY: Cambridge University Press, 2019. | Includes bibliographical references and index.
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4
Christopher J. Knüsel, Bonnie Glencross, and Marco Milella
5
Lee Clare, Oliver Dietrich, Julia Gresky, Jens Notroff, Joris Peters, and Nadja Pöllath
6 Paired Leopards and Encircled Prey: Images
Mark R. Anspach
7 Mimetic Theory, the Wall Paintings, and the Domestication, De-domestication, and Sacrifice of Cattle at Çatalhöyük 153
William A. Johnsen
8 The Ordeal of the Town: Rites and Symbols at Çatalhöyük 165 Benoît Chantre
9 Stretching Girard’s Hypothesis: Road Marks for a Long-Term Perspective
James Alison
10 Girard’s Anthropology vs. Cognitive Archaeology
Jean-Pierre Dupuy
11 Religion as a Factor in the Development of Settled Life
Hodder
1.1 Overview of the contemporary excavations in the south area of Çatalhöyük page 6
1.2 The role of violent imagery in social and religious processes at Çatalhöyük 7
4.1 Prone and ‘hog-tied’ male from Epipalaeolithic Wadi Mataha, Jordan 65
4.2 A healed blunt force traumatic injury of the frontal bone in Sk. 17485, Neolithic Çatalhöyük 74
4.3 Ectocranial view of a healed penetrating traumatic injury in Sk. 16513, Neolithic Çatalhöyük 75
4.4 Close-up of the endocranial surface of the penetrating injury of Sk. 16513, Neolithic Çatalhöyük 76
4.5 Cranial vault injuries at Neolithic Çatalhöyük 77
4.6 Sk. 3368 in its burial context, Neolithic Çatalhöyük 82
5.1 The location of Göbekli Tepe in relation to other Neolithic sites in northern Mesopotamia 98
5.2 Map of excavated areas at Göbekli Tepe 107
5.3 Sculpture from Göbekli Tepe of a bird perched upon a human head 108
5.4 Reconstruction of the final EPPNB phase (layer II) at Göbekli Tepe 110
5.5 Ithyphallic depictions from Göbekli Tepe 111
5.6 A snarling predator about to strike a wild boar, Pillar 27 in Enclosure C, Göbekli Tepe 112
5.7 Two aurochs at the moment of death, Pillar 66 in Enclosure H, Göbekli Tepe 115
5.1 Estimated population levels for some PPNA sites in Upper Mesopotamia. page 99
5.2 The rule-of-3 showing variations in the levels of personal networks among hunter-gatherers. 100
Contributors
James Alison, Priest-theologian, Fellow of Imitatio
Mark R. Anspach, Institut Marcel Mauss, École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, Paris
Benoît Chantre, Centre International d’Etudes de la Philosophie Française Contemporaine, President of the Association Recherches Mimétiques
Lee Clare, Berlin German Archaeological Institute, Orient Department, Berlin
Oliver Dietrich, German Archaeological Institute, Orient Department, Berlin
Jean-Pierre Dupuy, Department of Philosophy, Ecole Polytechnique, Paris
Bonnie Glencross, Department of Archaeology and Heritage Studies, Wilfrid Laurier University
Julia Gresky, German Archaeological Institute, Scientific Department, Berlin
Ian Hodder, Department of Anthropology, Stanford University
William A. Johnsen, Professor and Editor, Department of English, Michigan State University
Christopher J. Knüsel, De la Préhistoire à l’Actuel: Culture, Environnement, et Anthropologie (PACEA), Université de Bordeaux
List of Contributors
Marco Milella , Department of Anthropology and Anthropological Museum, Universität Zürich-Irchel
Jens Notroff, German Archaeological Institute, Orient Department, Berlin
Wolfgang Palaver, Department of Systematic Theology, University of Innsbruck
Joris Peters, Institute of Palaeoanatomy, Domestication Research and the History of Veterinary Medicine, Ludwig Maximilian University Munich
Nadja Pöllath, Institute of Palaeoanatomy, Domestication Research and the History of Veterinary Medicine, Ludwig Maximilian University Munich
Preface
The process that resulted in this book began in 2007 at Stanford. At that time the Çatalhöyük Research Project (excavating the 9,000-yearold site of Çatalhöyük in central Turkey – see Hodder 2006) was seeking novel ways of integrating wider debates into the research process. As part of that endeavour, groups of cultural and social anthropologists, philosophers, theologians and religious scholars were brought to the site during the excavation season each year to discuss the interpretations of the site. The aim was to bring major thinkers in these fields into a dialogue with the archaeologists and archaeological data at the site. The result has been a series of volumes that deal with the role of religion in early farming societies in the Middle East and Anatolia (Hodder 2010, 2014, 2018).
At times it was not possible to bring all the interdisciplinary scholars to the site and over the weekend of 14–15 October 2006 a meeting took place in the seminar room of the Archaeology Center at Stanford. The meeting was funded by the Templeton Foundation as part of a project entitled ‘Spirituality and Religious Ritual in the Emergence of Civilization: Çatalhöyük as a Case Study’. One of the participants was René Girard who had been invited because of his work on the intersections between the sacred and violence (Girard 1972), given the apparent evidence for violent imagery at Çatalhöyük. While most of the discussants presented initial thoughts and asked preliminary questions, Girard rather took the group aback by presenting a fully worked through and thorough analysis of the symbolism from the site. It is a version of this paper that was later presented at UC Riverside in 2008 (published in Antonello and Gifford 2015).
Preface
In 2008, thanks to the help of Peter Thiel, the financier of PayPal and Facebook, and a former student of Girard’s, a foundation named Imitatio was set up to foster the dissemination and discussion of Girard’s theory. Given Girard’s interest in Çatalhöyük, in 2012 Jean-Pierre Dupuy, a member of the Imitatio Board, wrote to Hodder suggesting a meeting. So began a series of conversations and on 1–4 July2013 the group met at Çatalhöyük for the first time. As a result of this meeting it was decided to work together as a group and move towards writing a volume. The idea was to discuss the application of Girard’s ideas to Çatalhöyük and to the early development of settled life in the Middle East. The group came together at Çatalhöyük again in the summer of 2014. Because of the group’s interest in violence and sacrifice there were intense discussions with the human remains team at the site, especially with Chris Knüsel. The seminar at Çatalhöyük was followed by a visit to Göbekli Tepe where the group was shown round by Lee Clare who agreed to join the book-writing project. The group again met in Paris on 3 June 2015 to discuss the first drafts of the chapters presented here, followed by a meeting in San Francisco on 14–15 January 2016.
References
Antonello, P. and Gifford, P. (eds.) 2015. How We Became Human: Mimetic Theory and the Science of Evolutionary Origins. East Lansing: Michigan State University Press. Girard, R. 1972. La violence et le sacré. Paris: Grasset. Hodder, I. 2006. Çatalhöyük: The Leopard’s Tale. London: Thames and Hudson (ed.) 2010. Religion in the Emergence of Civilization: Çatalhöyük as a Case Study. Cambridge University Press. (ed.) 2014. Religion at Work in a Neolithic Society: Vital Matters. Cambridge University Press. (ed.) 2018. Religion, History and Place in the Origin of Settled Life. Boulder: University of Colorado Press.
Part I
INTRODUCTION
Setting the Archaeological Scene
Ian Hodder
Introduction
This volume is the result of two realms of endeavor suddenly and contingently coming together to explore what each can do for the other. On the one hand, some archaeologists of early settled societies in the Middle East had come to realize that the old perspective of Neolithic societies as dominated by notions of fertility and mother goddesses needed to come to terms with the evidence for imagery that emphasized wild and dangerous and often male animals (Hodder and Meskell 2011; Schmidt 2006). Why was it that the formation of settled village life from the tenth millennium bc onwards in the Middle East was often associated with images of animals with their teeth bared and their ribs showing as at Göbekli Tepe? What was the relationship between violence and settled life? And why was it that 2,000–3,000 years later at the large mega-site of Çatalhöyük, the imagery again emphasized violence as in the claws, tusks, horns, and beaks set in walls, the reliefs of leopards facing each other, and the rituals in which large bulls were teased and killed and feasted upon?
On the other hand, followers of the late philosopher René Girard were seeking realms in which they could apply his ideas. Girardian theories are explained in detail in Chapter 2 in this volume, and throughout the other chapters, but in general terms they deal with the relationship between violence and the sacred. According to Girard’s mimetic theory, the process of mimesis whereby humans desire the same things as each other leads to violence that can easily break out into violence of all against all. This type of rampant violence can be resolved by the participants turning against one – the scapegoat. The latter may then take on a sanctified
position as the one that brought peace to society, and through time the sacrifice of the scapegoat is repeated and re-enacted in ritual in order to sustain peaceful order. So here is a theory in search of examples in order to pursue a generality. Because the theory links ritual violence to social order, it seems ideally suited to explain the evidence from sites such as Göbekli Tepe and Çatalhöyük. Could the killing of wild bulls at Çatalhöyük be seen as a re-enactment of the killing of a sacrificial victim? Of Çatalhöyük, Girard (2015, 223) wrote, “I believe that these paintings, and the whole Çatalhöyük settlement, are an enormous discovery from the point of view of the mimetic theory.”
This volume is the result of the bringing together of these two areas of interest through a series of chance and then intense interactions and conversations as described in the Preface. In this chapter I will explore what mimetic theory can contribute to debate in archaeology, as well as examine some of the difficulties that arise from bringing Girardian ideas into dialogue with archaeological evidence. The chapters in this volume are by non-archaeologists (Chapters 2, 3, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10) and by archaeologists (Chapters 1, 4, 5, and 11). The former are Giradian theorists drawn towards the fascination of Çatalhöyük and Göbekli Tepe. They have visited the two sites and spent many hours in discussion with the archaeological teams that work there. The latter are archaeologists interested in grappling with Girardian theories in relation to archaeology. The aim of the theorists is not to produce accomplished in-depth archaeological studies but to point to potentials and scope for further debate. The aim of the archaeologists is to respond to this stimulus from the point of view of a deeper familiarity with the Neolithic data. I aim to show in this first chapter and in Chapter 11 that indeed there is much potential for bringing the Neolithic archaeology of the Middle East into conversation with Girardian theories, as long as a critical stance is maintained. In order to do this, it is first necessary to describe Çatalhöyük as this was the context in which the conversations between Neolithic archaeologists and Girardian followers took place, as described in the Preface.
Çatalhöyük
Three previous volumes have explored the role of violence at Çatalhöyük (Hodder 2010, 2014c, 2018) and in the Neolithic of the Middle East more generally, including at Göbekli Tepe. The focus of this project, Çatalhöyük East (7100–6000 bc) in central Turkey, is one of the
best-known Neolithic sites in Anatolia and the Middle East, roughly contemporary with later Pre-Pottery and the following Pottery Neolithic in the Levant. It became well known because of its large size (34 acres and 3,500–8,000 people), with eighteen levels inhabited over 1,100 years and dense concentration of “art” in the form of wall paintings, wall reliefs, sculptures, and installations. Within Anatolia, and particularly within central Anatolia, recent research has shown that there are local sequences which lead up to and prefigure Çatalhöyük (Baird 2007; Gérard and Thissen 2002; Özdoğan 2002). In southeast Turkey, the earlier sites of Çayönü (Özdoğan and Özdoğan 1998) and Göbekli Tepe (Schmidt 2006) already show substantial agglomeration and elaborate symbolism. In central Anatolia, Aşıklı Höyük (Esin and Harmankaya 1999) has densepacked housing through the millennium prior to Çatalhöyük. There are many other sites contemporary, or partly contemporary, with Çatalhöyük that are known in central Anatolia and the adjacent Burdur Lakes region (Duru 1999; Gérard and Thissen 2002). Yet Çatalhöyük retains a special significance because of the complex narrative nature of its art, and many syntheses (e.g. by Cauvin 1994 or Mithen 2003) give it a special place. Much of the symbolism of the earlier Neolithic and later (into historic times) periods of the Middle East can be “read” in terms of the evidence from Çatalhöyük and the rich evidence from the site enables interpretation of the evidence from other sites.
The site (Figure 1.1) was first excavated by James Mellaart (e.g. 1967) in the 1960s. After 1965 it was abandoned until a new project began in 1993 (Hodder 1996, 2000, 2005a, 2005b, 2005c, 2006, 2007, 2013a, 2013b, 2014a, 2014b). Through both projects, only 5 percent of the mound has been excavated, but the whole mound has been sampled using surface survey, surface pick-up, geophysical prospection, and surface scraping (see reports in Hodder 1996). The inhabitants cultivated domestic plants and sheep and goat. In the early levels they hunted wild cattle, aurochs, and other wild animals such as boar, deer, and equid, but domestic cattle had been introduced by the middle levels of occupation. More than two hundred houses have so far been excavated by Mellaart and the current project. The main architectural components of the site are densely clustered houses, with areas of refuse or midden between them. The art and symbolism and burials all occur within houses. There is evidence of productive activities in all houses, in midden areas, and on partial second stories. None of the sampling has found evidence of large public buildings, ceremonial centers, specialized areas of production, or cemeteries.
Source
Göbekli Tepe in southeastern Turkey is an earlier site, dating to the late tenth and ninth millennia bc, and to the Pre-Pottery A and B periods. Here the inhabitants depended on wild plants and animals. The site and its interpretation are described fully in Chapter 5 in this volume. Its relevance to the theme of this volume is that, as at the later site of Çatalhöyük, much of the visual imagery is of wild animals, often very male (with erect penises) and apparently violent in aspect (with bared teeth, claws, and horns prominent). The similarities between the imagery in the two sites have been discussed elsewhere (Hodder and Meskell 2011). The two earlier volumes discussing the violence of these scenes (Hodder 2010, 2014c) argued that violence can be associated with moments of transcendence. Violence could thus be seen as incorporated into rituals that established transcendent roles and rules in societies as they settled down and cultivated plants and animals.
Bloch (2008, 2010) sees most human societies as understanding that there is a permanent framework to social life that transcends the natural transformative processes of birth, growth, reproduction, ageing, and death. Violence and symbolic killing take people beyond process into permanent entities such as descent groups. By leaving this life, it is possible to see oneself and others as part of something permanent and life-transcending. For Bloch (1992, 2010), mastering the virility of wild bulls in rituals and depictions in the house “reanimated” the transcendental social and thus contributed to the continuity of the house. The moments of danger and/or violence involved movements away from
Figure 1.1 Overview of the contemporary excavations in the south area of Çatalhöyük.
: Jason Quinlan and Çatalhöyük Research Project.
Person
Power to provide/ protect Social power Society
Violence and death
Transcendence Spiritual power
Figure 1.2 The role of violent imagery in social and religious processes at Çatalhöyük as discussed in a previous volume (Hodder 2010).
Source: the author.
the here-and-now; they involved transcendent experiences in which the social group could be transformed and made permanent. For Bloch there could indeed be a link between the violence in the imagery at Çatalhöyük and the lack of violence on human bodies. Social violence was dealt with by living within a symbolic, transcendent world of violence in which conflicts were resolved and social structures made permanent.
The view that the violent imagery at Çatalhöyük and other sites had a key role in creating the social and the long-term as people first settled down and formed complex societies is summarized in Figure 1.2. In this diagram, on the central horizontal axis, the person is made social through violence and death, either through initiation and other rituals or in the daily interactions with bull horns and other animal parts present or made absent in the house. In the lower part of the diagram, this social process is linked to the transcendental and the spiritual as persons experience something beyond themselves that is integral to their lives. Spiritual power is gained by individuals in these experiences, but also is controlled by elders or special houses. In the upper part of the diagram these spiritual powers are related to social powers. The social manipulation of rituals and symbols of violence give power to elders and special houses. There is also evidence that the power of wild animals was used to provide or protect. Thus in Building 77 the bull horns surround and protect the ancestors buried beneath the platform and in Building 1 wild goat horns were found over, perhaps protecting, a bin containing lentils (Hodder 2006).
Bloch offers a more general, sociological, and anthropological perspective that in many ways parallels the Girardian view, and yet it lacks the specificity, the spontaneous uncontrolled moments, and the generative mechanisms (see below) of the latter. Both describe general processes that are heightened at the dawn of sedentary and agricultural life. But it is Girard who emphasizes the ever-present raw violence that is embedded in the mimetic process. For him violence is far from symbolic; it churns away within the social process, continually generating change.
The Girardian view has to contend with archaeological and anthropological disciplines that have often wanted to “pacify the past.” Allen (2014) describes a decades-long period in which anthropologists and archaeologists had downplayed the evidence for warfare in smallscale societies. Although this moratorium was brought to an end by a series of publications in the 1990s and onwards that demonstrated the importance of warfare amongst hunter-gatherers in the past and historic present, it is undoubtedly the case that Neolithic archaeology and the study of Neolithic human remains has continued with the notion of a “pacified past” until recently (see Knüsel et al., Chapter 4 this volume). In the case of the Neolithic in the Middle East and Europe an important influence on the notion of peaceful societies was the arguments made by Gimbutas (1974) and her followers that the Neolithic was a period in which women and the “Mother Goddess” were able to create non- violent societies, at least until the malerelated violence asserted itself in the Late Neolithic and Chalcolithic and Bronze Age. Çatalhöyük in particular has been embroiled in this debate (Mellaart 1967; Meskell 1995).
While Allen describes the differences between those anthropologists and archaeologists who believe that warfare has always existed amongst humans and those who favor a short chronology (warfare only started with larger-scale, more complex societies), there is fairly widespread consensus that there has been “a long chronology of violence among hominins” (Allen 2014, 21), stretching back at least 5 million years. The small sample sizes and the very fragmented nature of much recovered human bone make it very difficult to evaluate the amount of trauma on Palaeolithic and Mesolithic European skeletal material, although for both periods there is evidence of interpersonal violence such as embedded projectiles and injuries to the cranium and lower arms. For Europe the evidence is summarized by Estabrook (2014; and see also Thorpe 2003). There is much evidence of interpersonal violence in the Epipalaeolithic and Neolithic in the Middle East, from Jebel Sahaba in Sudan (Wendorf
1968) to the “death pit” in the Late Neolithic at Domuztepe in southeast Turkey (Kansa et al. 2009).
While it may seem reasonable to argue that pressures on human societies as they became sedentary and invested in the ownership of houses, resources, tools, and prestige items led to increased interpersonal violence and warfare, there is little good evidence for such a change (Allen and Jones 2014). It is equally reasonable to argue that as human societies settled down and invested in longer-term relationships, networks, and roles, mechanisms were developed to manage potential increases in violence. The Girardian view is that one of these mechanisms was prohibition: the establishment of classifications and taboos that channeled desires in different directions and kept rivalries from getting out of hand. It is certainly a characteristic of Neolithic sites in the Middle East that they become increasingly structured, organized, and differentiated through time. But it is in fact the detailed evidence from Çatalhöyük that has showed most evidence for prohibitions and taboos. For example, I have discussed the contrast between the prevalence of imagery of leopards and the complete lack of leopard bones (except one claw) at the site in terms of a taboo against bringing leopard carcasses into the settlement (Hodder 2006). Very similar restrictions seem to have been applied to bears, and to a lesser degree to wild boars. There are other patterns that seem distinctive – for example, whole pots are never placed with bodies in graves, and neither are animals. Through most of the sequence of occupation, pots are not decorated but walls are. This latter pattern is linked to the main prohibition that dominates all the evidence from Çatalhöyük: it is the northern and eastern walls of houses that are preferentially painted and decorated, not the southern walls where the hearths and ovens occur and where pots are used and kept. There is an overall separation of the northern clean floors, under which there are adult burials, and the southern “dirty” floors, where most cooking and productive tasks took place (Hodder and Cessford 2004) and where only neonates and children were buried. All the ritual and symbolism so distinctive of Çatalhöyük is found in the northern parts of the main rooms. There are changes in floor height, kerbs between floor areas, different types of plaster used on the different floors; all this serves to separate activities and spaces. Movement around these buildings was highly controlled and restricted. Who could do what, where, and when was all carefully managed. It seems very likely that this complex web of positive rules and prohibitions created a society that was highly ordered, disciplined, regimented, all helping to limit conflict and violence.
But such preventive measures, prudent as they may have been, are inadequate in themselves. After all, why should individuals adhere to the prohibitions? There is no evidence at Çatalhöyük of a ruling elite that wielded force in order to establish rules and roles. It seems that older men and women were treated with special respect and had valued roles (Pearson and Meskell 2013), and there may well have been communitywide groups of elders who had particular influence. The members of the more elaborate houses which continued over longer generations and in which people were preferentially buried (“history houses” as defined by Hodder and Pels 2010; see also Hodder 2016) may have had special roles through their position in relation to ritual. But again, why did community members adhere to the restrictions advanced by these elders?
Perhaps elders and ritual leaders were able to mobilize sufficient resources to enforce the rules and restrictions, but it seems unlikely that force and policing would themselves have been sufficient in this largely egalitarian society. There were likely other ways in which taboos and restrictions were made manifest, justified, and normalized. It is here that the second mechanism identified by Girard comes to importance: the turning of violence of all against all to violence towards one emissary victim. Given that this mechanism is discussed fully in Chapter 2, my aim here is to explore how scapegoating and mimetic theories are attractive not only for Çatalhöyük and the origins of settled life in the Neolithic of the Middle East, but also for archaeological theory more generally.
A Productive New Perspective
In the above, I argued that it seems very attractive to interpret the symbolism of Çatalhöyük and Göbekli Tepe in Girardian terms. The images of wild animals and of mobs of humans “teasing and baiting” such animals seem readily interpretable in terms of rituals of sacrifice that lead to the resolution of conflicts within the community. In Part II in this volume, the main focus of the chapters is on the way mimesis, through rivalry, leads to violence and thence scapegoating as a solution. The chapters largely explore the evidence for intragroup violence at Çatalhöyük and nearby sites, and variously discuss this in relation to Girard’s scapegoating model for archaic religion and society. The evidence tends to be either iconographic, based on the interpretation of wall paintings or relief sculptures, or osteological.
As Alison remarks in his Chapter 9, there are typically three “moments” to the Girardian model: mimesis, scapegoating, and subversion. Mimesis
lies at the core as described by Johnsen in Chapter 2, and the chapters in Part III in this volume focus more on the dynamism of the mimetic process as a whole and especially its value as a mechanism or theory for explaining long-term change. There is consideration of both issues of the emergence of sacrifice among sedentary populations and its relation to hunting in earlier hunter-gatherer societies, as well as its later subversion or sublation as archaic religion evolves into “modern” religion and sacrificial scapegoating transforms into sacrificial offering. In this section I wish to explore more widely ways in which a Girardian perspective on the mimetic process might be seen as productive for archaeological theory and debate.
An Alternative View of Cultural Transmission
Throughout its history, the discipline of archaeology has built its chronologies on the basis of the idea that humans copy each other. The assumption that styles of pottery or burial or house change gradually through time and over space is the main building block of archaeological method and theory. It allows material items from the past to be placed into groups that have spatial and temporal coherence. These styles, cultures, horizons have been the mainstay of archaeological research. Debates have centered on whether the styles or cultural groups identified by archaeologists were recognized by past actors, or they have focused on the question of whether “pots equal people” – whether the spread of pot types indicated the diffusion of ideas or the movements of people. More recently, archaeological study of the diffusion of styles has been reframed within neo-evolutionary, neo-Darwinian, and selectionist accounts that examine the transmission of traits (Shennan 2002). The lineages of styles through time are argued to be the product of cultural transmission, the handing down of information from generation to generation. Multiple forms of transmission are identified including indirect biased, guided variation, and drift. There is recognition of the emulative processes in which people copy successful or prestigious group members, and the study of emulation has long been a focus of social archaeology (e.g. Miller 1985).
In all these accounts, the copying of traits is seen as mechanical and unproblematic. There is little notion that humans often “invent traditions” (Hobsbawm and Ranger 2012) or that they actively manipulate cultural similarities and differences for their own ends. The Girardian view takes the mimetic process and draws out so much more from it. Copying an item of culture is seen as an imitating of another’s desire, an appropriation. As a result, mimesis is no longer a passive process, benignly
facilitating the spread of information and cultural knowledge. Rather, it becomes a process in which tension and conflict are embedded. The social procedures by which humans learn from each other are themselves always already fraught.
Is it really the case that imitation always involves rivalry? After all, humans often copy each other in order to assert group membership. Within groups there is often a focus on sharing and on balanced reciprocity; it is between groups that negative reciprocity is predicted (Sahlins 1972). Making things or using or having things that are similar to the things of others might itself be a mechanism for enhancing group solidarity and restricting intragroup violence. Surely, imitation is the basis for group formation and cultural affiliation? From the Girardian point of view, this is indeed a pacified version of the past and of the cultural process, and it is contradicted by the widespread evidence (discussed above) for violence, both intra- and intergroup. From the Girardian view, if there is such peaceful mimesis, and if many hunter-gatherer societies see very little violence and warfare over long periods of time (Allen and Jones 2014), this is because outbreaks of violence have been countered through prohibitions and the sacrifice of emissary victims. For Girardians, it is logically the case that mimesis involves desire at some level, and thus it can be argued that desire for what is associated with others must tend towards rivalry.
Certainly by the time that humans are producing objects in which they invest labor, there may be incipient notions of association, identity, and ownership that emerge, even if that ownership remains far removed from what might be termed property. The earliest handaxes, the earliest pots and houses, already involved considerable care and investment, well before notions of property can be assumed (Woodburn 1998). At these early stages in human development there must have been some sense of permission being granted for mimesis to occur. Something is always taken away in the copying process (Taussig 1993; Weiner 1992). Copying others also assumes a certain access to resources, whether material or knowledge-based. There is thus always the potential for rivalry and conflict leading to violence regarding who can copy what. People may gain prestige by copying successful social actors, but the emulation tends to undermine the special status of the copied individual who has to continually re-invent in order to stay ahead (Miller 1985). Rivalry, then, does seem to be a logical component of mimesis, leading to the potential for violence. Cultural transmission and the diffusion of traits are thus transformed from passive benign processes into fraught moments
of negotiation. They become themselves generators of change, as will be further discussed below.
The diffusion and transmission of traits, important building blocks of archaeological research, thus become transformed into opportunities to explore mimesis and rivalry. When archaeologists recognize lineages of traits through time, styles, cultures, and horizons, they are not in fact studying the passive transfer of information; rather they are studying the ways in which particular interest groups manage the mimetic process. If a style endures, if traits persist, it is not because individuals have passively copied each other; neither is it because individuals have copied successful or prestigious individuals. Rather, it is because dominant individuals or groups have promoted or allowed the copying. The mimetic process has been managed in such a way as to permit or promote copying, to manage rivalry, to channel competition. The Girardian perspective opens up a fascinating and productive area of inquiry in which archaeologists explore the ways in which mimetic rivalry is produced and controlled.
An Alternative to Cognitive and Evolutionary Psychology Approaches
The Girardian view links this common archaeological concern with the transmission of traits with violence and religion. Girard does not see humans as genetically violent or genetically religious. Rather he sees both violence and religion as generated within the universal human practice of mimesis, a practice that leads to rivalry. Girard’s theory aims to produce a non-deterministic, generative model for the dependence of ancient cultures on religion and sacrifice. In this way his approach differs from many cognitive and evolutionary psychology approaches in archaeology, which often seek to answer such questions as “when did humans become religious?” or “were humans always cooperative or were they originally violent?” In Chapter 3, Palaver discusses the ways in which violence surrounding death led to ritual. He does not see a cognitive revolution when humans started burying their dead in the Middle and Upper Palaeolithic. Rather he sees burial as a deeply practical and social matter of creating tangible signs and procedures that dealt with terror, fear, and accusation.
In his chapter in this volume, Dupuy (Chapter 10) offers a critique of rationalist cognitive approaches to religion. He challenges the notion (see also Asad 1982) that religion is about belief rather than activity, and he dismisses evolutionary approaches that are based on rational decisionmaking and game theory. Equally he dismisses the functionalist emphasis in cognitive archaeology whereby living together in social groups is seen
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Andrade, and picked up another army When the tottering President heard of this final evidence of disloyalty he boarded a gunboat at La Guaira, taking with him a well-filled treasure chest, and went to Trinidad. The alleged warship leaked badly and Andrade, who had a sense of humor, sent word back to Castro by her commander to have her repaired at once so that she might be in better shape for a hurried departure when it should come his turn to be deposed.
By this time the people of Venezuela, ripe for a change of administration and believing that no one could be worse than Andrade, had begun to find out, as had Castro himself, what a powerful person he really was, and they accepted him as their master. He entered Caracas without opposition on October 21, 1900, and, rejecting the modest title of Provisional President, which his predecessors had used, proclaimed himself “Jefe Supremo” or “Supreme Military Leader.” He filled all important posts with men from the mountains, on whose loyalty he could rely, and as they were able to secure plenty of graft, not one penny of which was overlooked, he very soon had a tight hold on the country. One of his first acts was to release Gen. Hernandez. He soon found that the old warrior was too patriotic and too dangerous to be at large, so he slapped him back into San Carlos, on the pretence that he was planning an insurrection, and kept him there for years. On March 30, 1901, Castro was elected by Congress to fill out the unexpired part of Andrade’s term and in the following February he was elected Constitutional President. Then began in earnest his reign of robbery, through the establishment of monopolies whose profits went to his private purse, and his vicious anti-foreign policy which, through the murders and injustices that were committed in its name, made the Boxer uprising in China look like a soft-spoken protest.
I was not in Caracas to witness the advent of Castro, as I had returned to Catalina more than two years before, immediately after Crespo’s funeral. During my stay at the capital I had come into possession of a block of stock in the Orinoco Company which made it better worth my while to stay with it, and I had become infected with the idea that if we were let alone the concession could be developed into a very valuable property. It was soon apparent,
however, that we were not to remain undisturbed. So long as Crespo was alive I was all-powerful at Catalina, but with his death my influence began to wane and the rights of the company to be trespassed upon. The natives could not see how our concession, an integral part of Venezuela, could ever be anything but their own property; they could not, or would not, understand that the government had given away territory from which they could be debarred. It was only the influence of the Jefe Civile that had kept them in bounds before and with the death of my friend Crespo, that official suddenly became at least lukewarm in his loyalty to the law and to me. It naturally followed that the natives overran the concession and did more and more as they pleased. They refused to pay royalty on the balata gum, which they carried off in enormous quantities, and stole everything except the headquarters building and the iron ore, which was too heavy and not worth while. The Jefe Civile himself violated the terms of our concession and extortions of all sorts were winked at or openly approved. As Andrade’s unpopularity increased my troubles grew, for the natives took sides and began to spy on each other, with the result that false and malicious reports were sent to Caracas as to the company’s attitude.
When the threatened revolution became a fact and Castro took the field, Andrade assumed a much more friendly air, but it was too late to be of any value. He sent General Marina up the Orinoco to try to arouse enthusiasm for his cause in the east, which section furnishes the only soldiers that can cope with the hardy mountaineers of the west. Marina came to Catalina and asked me to do my best to hold my district in line for Andrade, and gave me his word that if I did so the President would grant me anything I asked for as soon as the revolt was suppressed. At just about the moment this request was made Andrade was fleeing from La Guaira and Castro was assuming full control at Caracas.
Almost the first thing he did was to annul our concession, on the ground that its terms had not been complied with, along with a dozen others, as the beginning of his war on all foreigners. I denied his right to cancel our grant, especially as it contained a clause which stipulated that any disagreement between the government and the
concessionaire should be referred to the Alta Carte Federale, or Supreme Court, for adjustment. As the case had not been brought before that court I held there could be no legal annulment, even if that power did rest in the executive, which I denied. This contention was subsequently upheld by the International Court of Arbitration, following the blockade and bombardment of the allied powers, which decided that our concession was still in full force.
When Castro saw that we did not propose to submit to his arbitrary annulment he undertook to drive me out of the country. He realized that so long as I remained on the concession we could claim to be in full possession of it, and he proceeded to harass me in every conceivable way in the hope of making it too hot for me. Under our contract we were to nominate and pay all of the officers within our territory and the government was to appoint them. My old chief of police, Abreu, was arrested and taken away on some false charge, and a new man, Tinoco, in whose selection I had no voice, was sent to take his place. He was, I learned, a spy and had orders to send in reports which would make it appear that the company was stirring up revolts and otherwise violating the terms of its concession. This I discovered in time to induce Tinoco, with the aid of a pistol, to sign a statement in which he denied all of his dishonest reports and gave the company a clean bill of health. He died soon afterward.
Castro created a military district known as the Territorio DeltaAmacuro, which took in all of our property, and made Catalina the capital, so that the Governor and the other officials could keep me under their eyes. They all had instructions to make the place so uncomfortable for me that I would leave. Fortunately, when it received its concession the company had bought the land on which its buildings were erected. Only the fact that I was an American citizen and held the deeds to the property restrained them from expelling me by main force. However, I could see trouble coming, so I dug rifle pits under the porches on the two sides of the house from which we could be attacked. I had plenty of arms and ammunition and about twenty men of whose bravery and loyalty I was sure.
I was prohibited from buying anything at the pulperia, or commissary, and we were hard put to it at times for enough to eat. We caught fish
in the river and my men stole out into the woods to hunt at every favorable opportunity, but the moment they left our property they exposed themselves to arrest on some trumped-up charge. Sometimes we were able to surreptitiously buy supplies from the natives, and we managed to get along. I filed protests at Caracas, with the Governor and with my company, but they accomplished nothing. I was told by the officials of the company that they were doing the best they could, with representations to the State Department at Washington, and that I would have to do the best I could, and I did it. The troops were continually spying on us and annoying us with fictitious charges, but it was a year or more before the government, angered by its failure to get rid of me, resorted to extreme measures. A new Governor was sent down with strict orders to remove me, by force if necessary. He advanced toward the house with about seventy-five soldiers. I ordered my men into the rifle pits and met the General at the gate.
“What do you want?” I demanded fiercely.
“I beg your pardon,” replied the commander, with all the treacherous suavity of his race, “but I have orders to take you under my care and escort you to Trinidad in order that no injury may come to you. Our country is troubled and the government is anxious as to your safety.”
“My compliments to President Castro,” I told him, “and assure him that I feel perfectly secure here, and quite comfortable. You can also tell him that I propose to stay here.”
“That is much to be regretted,” responded the still overly polite general, “for in that case I have to inform you that my orders are to arrest you and take you to Trinidad.”
“In that case,” I said, imitatively, “I have to inform you that you will find it impossible to carry out your orders, and I advise you not to attempt it.”
“You mean that you will resist arrest?” he exclaimed in surprise.
“Most assuredly,” I replied. “This is my property. You have no right to invade it, for I have violated no law of Venezuela. If you enter on it I will fire on you.”
“But,” he almost shouted, as he waved his arms excitedly toward his enervated patriots, “my men are here to enforce my orders. You would be insane to resist. You do not know the Venezuelan Army, sir.”
“You are mistaken,” I told him. “I do know the Venezuelan Army. It is you who is ignorant. You do not know my army. It is because I know both that I have no fear. You have not a shadow of right for seeking to arrest me and your blood will be on your own head if you advance.”
With this declaration which, in keeping with the comic opera custom of the country, was delivered with all of the dramatic effect I could throw into it, in order that it might carry greater weight, I retired to the house.
The General could see my rifle pits, but he did not know how many men they held nor how well those men could shoot. After a short consultation with his staff he gave the order to advance, while he bravely directed operations from the rear. As his men crossed the line we fired, and eight of them fell. They continued to advance and we fired again, dropping nine more of them, while several others were hit. That was too much for them and they broke and ran, leaving seven dead and ten badly wounded. They did not fire a shot, perhaps because our men were so well concealed that Venezuelan marksmanship would have accomplished nothing against them. The General and his staff returned in an hour and asked permission to remove the fallen warriors. After burying their dead they returned to their steamer and went on up the river. In three or four days they came back, with their force slightly increased, and the General again called on me to surrender, under penalty of being arrested as a disturbing factor. I gave him the same reply as before and after thinking it over for a while he marched his troops away again.
That little encounter produced pronounced respect for the Americans among Castro’s soldiers and they did not give us much trouble afterward, though they continued to annoy us for a time. With the establishment of the blockade of Venezuelan ports by the allies— England, Germany, and Italy—in the latter part of 1902, and the
signing of the peace protocols at Washington early in the following year, there came a cessation of hostilities against us. So far as driving us off the concession was concerned, Castro seemed to have given up the fight, but on account of the disturbed condition of the country and the fact that the government was known to be inimical to us, it was impossible to do anything of consequence toward the development of the property. This enforced idleness eventually became intolerable and early in 1906, the company in the meantime having sent one of its officers to Caracas to protect its interests, I returned to New York, after having held the fort for ten years. I came back much poorer in pocket, but with a fund of information regarding Venezuela and its people.
I have been in every country in South America and have studied all of them and there is no possibility of doubt that Venezuela is beyond comparison the richest in its natural resources. With the setting up of a firm and civilized government, which must come in the end, under an American protectorate if by no other means, all of the fairy stories that were told of it centuries ago will come true, and its development will eclipse all of the dreams that have been realized in our own country. It is a strange fact that Cumana in Venezuela (their respective names then being New Toledo and New Grenada), which was the first European settlement in South America of which there is authentic record, was founded one hundred years, less one, before the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock. In each case there was a fervent prayer for divine aid in establishing a Christian colony and building up a great country Why one prayer was answered and the other was not is a matter I will not attempt to explain.
Like her West Indian neighbors, of which beautiful isles Americans now know so little, but of which they will know much more when their flag flies over all of them, as it must within the life of the present generation, Venezuela has been treated most bountifully by nature and most brutally by man. Cursed they all may have been by the seas of innocent blood in which they were barbarously bathed during their extended infancy and their prolonged childhood, from which they have not yet emerged. It seems that all the powers of darkness have conspired to retard their growth and hold them slaves to
savagery Accustomed from the days of the Spanish conquistadores, and the pirates who followed them, to being plundered and persecuted in every way that the mercenary mind of man could devise, the Venezuelanos have grown so hardened to turmoil and torture that it has become second nature to them to live in an atmosphere which generates riot and robbery. Their blood is an unholy mixture of Indian, Carib, and Spanish, with other and more recent strains of all sorts. They are the most inconsequential, emotional, ungrateful, and treacherous people on the face of the earth—and yet I love them. The ambition of their leaders runs only to graft, while the underlings yearn for war as a child cries for a plaything. At the behest of some self-constituted chieftain, who has strutted in front of a mirror until he imagines himself a second Simon Bolivar, they rise in rebellion, because it gives them a chance to prey on the country, and, if their revolt is successful, to continue and extend their preying. But some day a real man will rise up among them and lead them out of their blackness and butchery into peace and prosperity, and Venezuela, with her wild wastes of wealth, will become great beyond the imaginings of her discoverers.
This is not the full story of my life but it tells of some of the incidents which I have enjoyed the most. My best fight was with old Moy Sen, the pirate king, in the China Sea, and my closest call was when I was sentenced to be shot at sunrise in Santo Domingo. These events supplied the most delightful feasts of the excitement which my nature has ever craved, yet I have lived well, in that respect, all along. I have no disappointments and no regrets, except that this existence is too short. If I had my life to live over again it would be lived in the same way, though, I would hope, with a still greater share of excitement, because it was for just such a life that I was created. What the purpose of it was I neither know nor care, nor am I in the least concerned as to what my destiny next holds in store for me. I hope, however, that in some land with opportunity for wide activity, I will be reincarnated as a filibuster and a buccaneer, and that I will so continue until my identity is merged into a composite mass of kindred souls.
THE END
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