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Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands: A household-based approach to the economy of Uxul, Campeche, Mexico
9781407359151, 9781407359168

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Els Barnard

Table of contents :
Front Cover
Title
Copyright
ARCHAEOLOGY OF THE MAYA
Other Titles in the Subseries
Acknowledgments
Contents
List of Figures
List of Tables
Abstract
1. Introduction
1.1. Research questions
1.2. Book organization
Part I: Framework
2. Theory and Methods
2.1. Key Definitions
2.1.1. Economy
2.1.2. Household
2.1.3. City and urbanism
2.2. Theory and methods
2.2.1. Studying socio-economic inequality
2.2.2. Identifying market exchange
2.2.3. Studying socio-political and economic power structures
2.3. Methodological tools
2.3.1. Geographic Information Systems (GIS)
2.3.2. Social network analysis (SNA)
2.3.3. Portable X-ray fluorescence (pXRF)
3. Uxul: The Site and its Data
3.1. History of research
3.2. History and affiliation
3.3. Uxul’s spatial and archaeological evidence
3.3.1. Maps
3.3.2. Artifacts and databases
3.3.3. Excavation reports
3.4. Methodological discussion: approaching the data
3.4.1. Household identification
3.4.2. Analyzing Uxul’s artifact data
3.5. Presentation of the ten extensively excavated households
3.5.1. Group Ak’
3.5.2. Group Baak
3.5.3. Group G
3.5.4. Group K
3.5.5. Group K’áak’
3.5.6. Group M
3.5.7. Group Ma’ax
3.5.8. Group Pu’uk
3.5.9. Group Wob
3.5.10. Group Ya’ab
Part II: Analysis
4. Wealth Inequality and Stratification
4.1. Methodology and parameters
4.1.1. Methodological discussion
4.2. Wealth inequality in Uxul
4.2.1. Stratification
4.2.2. Economic distribution model
5. Settlement Organization: Household Location and Mobility
5.1. Methodological discussion
5.2. Neighborhoods in Uxul
5.2.1. Neighborhood composition
5.2.2. Neighborhood chronology
5.3. Household visibility
5.3.1. Visibility and wealth
5.3.2. Household visibility patterns and neighborhoods
5.3.3. Discussion of household visibility
5.4. Mobility and social integration
5.4.1. Social integration and wealth
5.4.2. Social integration and neighborhoods
5.5. Mobility and access to resources
5.5.1. Mobility and water: access to the aguadas
5.5.2. Mobility and religion: access to religious services
5.3.3. Mobility and storage: access to chultunes
5.6. Discussion of household location and intra-site mobility in Uxul
5.6.1. Elites vs. commoners
5.6.2. Neighborhoods
5.6.3. Implications of the Uxul settlement organization
5.6.4. Mobility and access in ancient Uxul in a comparative perspective
6. Household Economy: Production and Consumption
6.1. Ceramics: consumption, chronology, and sources
6.1.1. Uxul ceramics
6.1.2. Chronology of the extensively excavated households
6.1.3. Late Preclassic ceramics
6.1.4. Early Classic ceramics
6.1.5. Late Classic ceramics
6.1.6. Terminal Classic ceramics
6.1.7. Discussion of the distribution of ceramics in Uxul
6.2. Obsidian: consumption, production, and sources
6.2.1. Obsidian in Uxul
6.2.2. Sourcing the obsidian of Uxul: chemical analysis using pXRF
6.2.3. Distribution of obsidian sources in Uxul
6.2.4. Uxul obsidian and the long-distance exchange network
6.2.5. Discussion of the distribution of obsidian in Uxul
6.3. Greenstone: production and consumption
6.3.1. Greenstone in Uxul
6.3.2. Greenstone artifact production: the Ya’ab workshop
6.4. Shell: production and consumption
6.4.1. Shell in Uxul
6.4.2. Shell artifact production: the Ya’ab workshop
6.5. Textile: production
6.5.1. Malacates in Uxul
6.5.2. Additional textile production implements
6.5.3. Discussion of the organization of textile production in Uxul
6.6. Ceremonial services in household contexts: consumption, production, and services
6.6.1. Household ceremonial activities in Uxul
6.6.2. Discussion of ceremonial practices as specialized household services in Uxul
6.7. Thin-walled flared clay earspools: production and consumption
6.7.1. Thin-walled earspools in Uxul
6.7.2. Earspool production: the Ma’ax production site
6.8. Paper: production
6.9. Chert: production and consumption
Part III: Discussion and Conclusions
7. Discussion of the Ancient Uxul Economy
7.1. Wealth inequality and its implications
7.2. The existence of a middle class
7.3. Settlement organization and its implications
7.4. Consumption patterns
7.5. Production and specialization
7.6. Uxul in the wider economic network
7.7. Uxul in a comparative perspective
7.8. Chronology and development of the Uxul economy
8. Conclusions
8.1. Market exchange
8.2. Economy and political organization
8.3. Economic independence of Uxul
8.4. Concluding remarks
Bibliography
Back Cover

Citation preview

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands A household-based approach to the economy of Uxul, Campeche, Mexico ELS BARNARD

BA R I N T E R NAT I O NA L S E R I E S 3 0 6 8

L E A IN N L IO ON IT D L D IA A ER AT

A R C H A E O L O G Y O F T H E M AYA

M

V O LU M E 9

A R C H A E O L O G Y O F T H E M AYA

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands A household-based approach to the economy of Uxul, Campeche, Mexico ELS BARNARD

BA R I N T E R NAT I O NA L S E R I E S 3 0 6 8

Published in 2021 by BAR Publishing, Oxford BAR International Series 3068 Archaeology of the Maya, volume 9 Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands ISBN 978 1 4073 5915 1 paperback ISBN 978 1 4073 5916 8 e-format doi https://doi.org/10.30861/9781407359151 A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library © Els Barnard 2021 Cover image Elaborate vessel with a modeled figure found in the “prince’s tomb” excavated in palace group K (photograph taken in 2012, Uxul Archaeological Project). The Author’s moral rights under the 1988 UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act are hereby expressly asserted. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be copied, reproduced, stored, sold, distributed, scanned, saved in any form of digital format or transmitted in any form digitally, without the written permission of the Publisher. Links to third party websites are provided by BAR Publishing in good faith and for information only. BAR Publishing disclaims any responsibility for the materials contained in any third-party website referenced in this work.

BAR titles are available from: Email Phone Fax

BAR Publishing 122 Banbury Rd, Oxford, ox2 7bp, uk [email protected] +44 (0)1865 310431 +44 (0)1865 316916 www.barpublishing.com

A RCHAE OLO G Y OF T H E M AYA A RCHAE OLO G Y OF T H E M AYA Series Editors: Elizabeth Graham (UCL), David Pendergast (UCL) and Series Editors: Elizabeth Graham David Pendergast (UCL) and Genner Llanes(UCL), Ortiz (Leiden) Genner Llanes Ortiz (Leiden) The archaeology, epigraphy, art and history of the Maya of Mesoamerica are increasingly studied throughout the world. The archaeology, epigraphy, and history of the Maya Mesoamerica increasingly studiedboth throughout theoutside world. As discoveries multiply, newart venues of publication are a of critical means ofare spreading knowledge within and As multiply, new venues of publication a critical means of spreading botharea within outside the discoveries field. The BAR sub-series publishes monographsare and excavation or survey reportsknowledge on the Maya in a and format that the field.extensive The BARillustration. sub-series publishes monographs and excavation or survey reports on the Maya area in a format that permits permits extensive illustration. If you are interested in publishing in the Archaeology of the Maya series, please contact If you are interested in publishing in the Archaeology of the Maya series, please contact [email protected]. [email protected]. Editorial advisory board Editorial advisory board Barbara Arroyo, Instituto de Antropología e Historia de Guatemala Barbara Arroyo, Instituto de Antropología e Historia de Guatemala Arlen F. Chase, Department of Anthropology, University of Nevada at Las Vegas Arlen F. Chase, Department of Anthropology, University of Nevada at Las Vegas Kitty Emery, Florida Museum of Natural History, University of Florida, Gainesville Kitty Emery, Florida Museum of Natural History, University of Florida, Gainesville Antonia E. Foias, Department of Anthropology, Williams College, Massachusetts Antonia E. Foias, Department of Anthropology, Williams College, Massachusetts Sherman Horn III, Department of Anthropology, Grand Valley State University Sherman Horn III, Department of Anthropology, Grand Valley State University Christian Isendahl, Department of Historical Studies, University of Gothenburg Christian Isendahl, Department of Historical Studies, University of Gothenburg Harri Kettunen, Department of Cultures, University of Helsinki Harri Kettunen, Department of Cultures, University of Helsinki Meaghan M. Peuramaki-Brown, Centre for Social Sciences, Anthropology, Athabasca University Meaghan M. Peuramaki-Brown, Centre for Social Sciences, Anthropology, Athabasca University Independent Researcher, Parkland, Florida Carmen Giomar Sánchez Fortoul, Affiliate Researcher of Anthropology in the College of Arts and Letters, CarmenAtlantic GiomarUniversity Sánchez Fortoul, Independent Researcher, Parkland, Florida Florida Travis W. Stanton, Department of Anthropology, University of California, Riverside, USA Travis W. Stanton, Department of Anthropology, University of California, Riverside, USA Emilio del Valle Escalante, Department of Romance Studies, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill Emilio del Valle Escalante, Department of Romance Studies, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

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Other Titles in the Subseries Maya Ceramic Technology and Ceramic Socio-economy A multifaceted analysis of Late Postclassic ceramic production and distribution in Northern Yucatán, México Carmen Giomar Sánchez Fortoul BAR International Series 2899

Oxford, BAR Publishing, 2018 Archaeology of the Maya, 1 Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Ancient Maya Underworld Exploring the rise and fall of Maya centres in central Belize from the cave context Shawn Gregory Morton

BAR International Series 2910

Oxford, BAR Publishing, 2018 Archaeology of the Maya, 2

Antiguas calzadas mayas Estudio comparativo de los sacbeob de Ichmul, San Felipe y Yo’okop, tres sitios de la región de Cochuah Alberto Guadalupe Flores Colin BAR International Series 2937

Oxford, BAR Publishing, 2019 Archaeology of the Maya, 3

An Archaeological Reconstruction of Ancient Maya Life at Pacbitun, Belize Edited by Terry G. Powis, Sheldon Skaggs and George J. Micheletti. Foreword by Jaime J. Awe BAR International Series 2970

Oxford, BAR Publishing, 2020 Archaeology of the Maya, 4 El paisaje urbano maya: del Preclásico al Virreinato Edited by Juan García Targa and Geiser Gerardo Martín Medina

BAR International Series 2985

Oxford, BAR Publishing, 2020 Archaeology of the Maya, 5

Settlement Change, Urbanism, and Human and Environment Interaction at Lamanai and Ka’kabish Two Precolumbian Maya sites in Northern Belize Alec McLellan BAR International Series 3007

Oxford, BAR Publishing, 2020 Archaeology of the Maya, 6 Socioeconomic Networks and the Rise of Maya Civilization The web of complexity at Middle Preclassic Cahal Pech, Belize Sherman W. Horn III

BAR International Series 3009

Oxford, BAR Publishing, 2020 Archaeology of the Maya, 7 The Maya and Environmental Stress from Past to Present Human response and adaptation to climate change in the Maya lowlands Eva Jobbová

BAR International Series 3055

Oxford, BAR Publishing, 2021 Archaeology of the Maya, 8 For more information, or to purchase these titles, please visit www.barpublishing.com iv

Acknowledgments The present work was originally carried out as a doctoral dissertation within the framework of the Research Training Group “Archaeology of Premodern Economies” (Graduiertenkolleg 1878: Archäologie vormoderner Wirtschaftsräume) at the Universities of Bonn and Cologne, Germany. The program was funded by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (DFG), which financed and supported the research presented here (including travel funds and funding for material analyses).

many insightful comments and suggestions, and for your help in transforming my dissertation project into this book. Prof. Dr. Johannes Bröcker, thank you for your time and patience in explaining concepts from the field of economics and helping me better understand the economic literature. I am due a particular debt of gratitude to Lars Heinze and Arne Schröder for their help in performing and analyzing the technical XRF analysis: it would not have happened without your help.

All the data was gathered as part of, and belongs to, the Uxul Archaeological Project of the University of Bonn, Germany under the direction of Prof. Dr. Nikolai Grube, in collaboration with the Mexican Institute of Anthropology and History (INAH), and funded by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (DFG).

I would also like to express my deepest appreciation to all the members of the Uxul project, without whom none of this research would have been possible. In particular, I would like to acknowledge all the members of my excavation team during the 2015 field season: Choco, Patolin, Rollo, Tequin, Víctor, and Víctor Hugo.

First and foremost, I would like to express my deepest gratitude to my principal supervisor, Prof. Dr. Nikolai Grube (Department for the Anthropology of the Americas, University of Bonn), whose expertise was invaluable in developing this research project, and without whom it would not have come to fruition. Thank you for your support and constructive feedback throughout these years.

Jur and Von, thank you for proofreading, commenting on, and proofreading again all my earliest drafts, and always being supportive. Many thanks to the members of my dissertation committee (Prof Dr. Martin Bentz, Prof. Dr. Nikolai Grube, Prof Dr. Richard Bußmann, and Prof. Dr. Elizabeth Graham) for taking the time to read my work and providing very useful feedback, as well as encouragement to transform my dissertation into the book it has become.

I would also like to extend my sincere thanks to my second supervisor, Prof. Dr. Richard Bußmann (Institute of African Studies and Egyptology, University of Cologne) for his support and insightful feedback and discussions. I must also thank the directors of the Research Training Group “Archaeology of Premodern Economies”, Prof. Dr. Martin Bentz (Department for Classical Archaeology, University of Bonn) and Prof. Dr. Michael Heinzelmann (Department for Classical Archaeology, University of Cologne) for making this research possible. The program, and the discussions it facilitated between all of its members from very diverse backgrounds and with equally diverse research interests, were essential in developing my thinking on economic archaeology and improving my work.

Finally, I am particularly grateful to the entire editing team at BAR publishing for making this publication possible. Many thanks also to the reviewers for their helpful comments on the manuscript.

I would like to extend special thanks to Michael Smith, I am especially grateful for all your feedback and suggestions. You had a great impact on the way I formulated and carried out my research, and your continued support and willingness to discuss my results and progress, well after you left the office in Bonn, were invaluable. Particularly helpful during the final stages of the preparation of this publication was Elizabeth Graham, thank you very much for taking the time to read my dissertation, for your

v

Contents List of Figures �� xi List of Tables �� xv Abstract �� xix 1. Introduction �� 1 1.1. Research questions �� 5 1.2. Book organization �� 5 Part I Framework �� 7 2. Theory and Methods �� 9 2.1. Key Definitions �� 9 2.1.1. Economy �� 9 2.1.2. Household �� 22 2.1.3. City and urbanism �� 25 2.2. Theory and methods �� 27 2.2.1. Studying socio-economic inequality �� 27 2.2.2. Identifying market exchange �� 30 2.2.3. Studying socio-political and economic power structures �� 36 2.3. Methodological tools �� 44 2.3.1. Geographic Information Systems (GIS) �� 44 2.3.2. Social network analysis (SNA) �� 45 2.3.3. Portable X-ray fluorescence (pXRF) �� 47 3. Uxul: The Site and its Data �� 51 3.1. History of research �� 53 3.2. History and affiliation �� 56 3.3. Uxul’s spatial and archaeological evidence �� 58 3.3.1. Maps �� 58 3.3.2. Artifacts and databases �� 58 3.3.3. Excavation reports �� 60 3.4. Methodological discussion: approaching the data �� 60 3.4.1. Household identification �� 60 3.4.2. Analyzing Uxul’s artifact data �� 62 3.5. Presentation of the ten extensively excavated households �� 69 3.5.1. Group Ak’ �� 69 3.5.2. Group Baak �� 73 3.5.3. Group G �� 75 3.5.4. Group K �� 80 3.5.5. Group K’áak’ �� 86 3.5.6. Group M �� 89 3.5.7. Group Ma’ax �� 93 3.5.8. Group Pu’uk �� 96 3.5.9. Group Wob �� 99 3.5.10. Group Ya’ab �� 102 Part II Analysis �� 109 4. Wealth Inequality and Stratification ��111 4.1. Methodology and parameters �� 112 4.1.1. Methodological discussion �� 113 4.2. Wealth inequality in Uxul �� 114 4.2.1. Stratification �� 122 4.2.2. Economic distribution model �� 125

vii

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands 5. Settlement Organization: Household Location and Mobility �� 129 5.1. Methodological discussion �� 129 5.2. Neighborhoods in Uxul �� 131 5.2.1. Neighborhood composition �� 135 5.2.2. Neighborhood chronology �� 136 5.3. Household visibility �� 137 5.3.1. Visibility and wealth �� 139 5.3.2. Household visibility patterns and neighborhoods �� 140 5.3.3. Discussion of household visibility �� 144 5.4. Mobility and social integration �� 144 5.4.1. Social integration and wealth �� 145 5.4.2. Social integration and neighborhoods �� 148 5.5. Mobility and access to resources �� 155 5.5.1. Mobility and water: access to the aguadas �� 155 5.5.2. Mobility and religion: access to religious services �� 162 5.3.3. Mobility and storage: access to chultunes �� 170 5.6. Discussion of household location and intra-site mobility in Uxul �� 177 5.6.1. Elites vs. commoners �� 177 5.6.2. Neighborhoods �� 178 5.6.3. Implications of the Uxul settlement organization �� 183 5.6.4. Mobility and access in ancient Uxul in a comparative perspective �� 186 6. Household Economy: Production and Consumption �� 189 6.1. Ceramics: consumption, chronology, and sources �� 189 6.1.1. Uxul ceramics �� 190 6.1.2. Chronology of the extensively excavated households �� 192 6.1.3. Late Preclassic ceramics �� 193 6.1.4. Early Classic ceramics �� 197 6.1.5. Late Classic ceramics �� 203 6.1.6. Terminal Classic ceramics �� 223 6.1.7. Discussion of the distribution of ceramics in Uxul �� 228 6.2. Obsidian: consumption, production, and sources �� 230 6.2.1. Obsidian in Uxul �� 231 6.2.2. Sourcing the obsidian of Uxul: chemical analysis using pXRF �� 234 6.2.3. Distribution of obsidian sources in Uxul �� 238 6.2.4. Uxul obsidian and the long-distance exchange network �� 242 6.2.5. Discussion of the distribution of obsidian in Uxul �� 245 6.3. Greenstone: production and consumption �� 246 6.3.1. Greenstone in Uxul �� 247 6.3.2. Greenstone artifact production: the Ya’ab workshop �� 250 6.4. Shell: production and consumption �� 253 6.4.1. Shell in Uxul �� 253 6.4.2. Shell artifact production: the Ya’ab workshop �� 257 6.5. Textile: production �� 258 6.5.1. Malacates in Uxul �� 260 6.5.2. Additional textile production implements �� 265 6.5.3. Discussion of the organization of textile production in Uxul �� 270 6.6. Ceremonial services in household contexts: consumption, production, and services �� 271 6.6.1. Household ceremonial activities in Uxul �� 273 6.6.2. Discussion of ceremonial practices as specialized household services in Uxul �� 280 6.7. Thin-walled flared clay earspools: production and consumption �� 282 6.7.1. Thin-walled earspools in Uxul �� 282 6.7.2. Earspool production: the Ma’ax production site �� 282 6.8. Paper: production �� 285 6.9. Chert: production and consumption �� 287 Part III Discussion and Conclusions �� 289 7. Discussion of the Ancient Uxul Economy �� 291 7.1. Wealth inequality and its implications �� 291 viii

Contents 7.2. The existence of a middle class �� 293 7.3. Settlement organization and its implications �� 295 7.4. Consumption patterns �� 299 7.5. Production and specialization �� 302 7.6. Uxul in the wider economic network �� 306 7.7. Uxul in a comparative perspective �� 309 7.8. Chronology and development of the Uxul economy �� 310 8. Conclusions �� 313 8.1. Market exchange �� 313 8.2. Economy and political organization �� 314 8.3. Economic independence of Uxul �� 316 8.4. Concluding remarks �� 316 Bibliography �� 319 The Appendices are available at the following DOIs: Appendix 1: List of all identified households and their characteristics - https://doi.org/10.30861/9781407359151.app1 Appendix 2: Walking times from each source household group to each other household group (in seconds) - https:// doi.org/10.30861/9781407359151.app2 Appendix 3: Walking times from each household to various resource in Uxul - https://doi.org/10.30861/9781407359151.app3 Appendix 4: Results of pXRF measurements on Uxul ceramic samples - https://doi.org/10.30861/9781407359151.app4 Appendix 5: Results of pXRF measurements on Uxul obsidian samples - https://doi.org/10.30861/9781407359151.app5

ix

List of Figures Figure 1.1. Map showing the location of Uxul �� 2 Figure 1.2. Site map of Uxul showing the locations of the ten extensively excavated households �� 3 Figure 3.1. Site map of Uxul showing the locations of important architectural groups and structures mentioned in this chapter �� 52 Figure 3.2. Map of Uxul as drawn by Ruppert and Denison during their third Carnegie Institution of Washington expedition to Campeche �� 54 Figure 3.3. Pyramid D1 damaged by extensive looting in the form of trenches and tunneling (in this photograph the looters’ trenches have been cleaned in order to be documented and consolidated in the middle so as to prevent further collapse) �� 55 Figure 3.4. Picture taken in Uxul showing a low overgrown structure located to the left of an informal foot-worn path, illustrating the difficulty of identifying small structures in a jungle environment �� 59 Figure 3.5. Map of Uxul showing the location of all identified households and their unique feature identifier (FID) �� 63 Figure 3.6. Group Ak’, locations of excavations shown in grey �� 70 Figure 3.7. Group Baak, location of excavations in grey �� 74 Figure 3.8. Group G, locations of the excavations in grey �� 76 Figure 3.9. Group K, locations of excavations shown in grey �� 81 Figure 3.10. Group K’áak’, locations of excavations shown in grey �� 87 Figure 3.11. Group M, locations of excavations shown in grey �� 90 Figure 3.12. Group Ma’ax, locations of excavations shown in grey �� 93 Figure 3.13. Group Pu’uk, locations of excavations shown in grey �� 97 Figure 3.14. Group Wob, locations of excavations shown in grey �� 100 Figure 3.15. Group Ya’ab, locations of excavations shown in grey �� 103 Figure 4.1. Lorenz curve of domestic construction volume at Uxul (Gini = 0.62) �� 120 Figure 4.2. Histogram showing the distribution of domestic construction volumes at Uxul �� 121 Figure 4.3. Histogram of domestic construction volumes at Uxul showing the distribution of households of different status categories �� 122 Figure 4.4. Boxplot showing the distribution of domestic construction volumes for the four socio-economic categories at Uxul �� 123 Figure 4.5. Map of Uxul showing the status of each household based on construction volume �� 124 Figure 4.6. Plot showing the volume to surface ratios of households according to rank and status category �� 125

xi

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Figure 4.7. Double logarithmic plot showing the relationship between construction volumes and rank at Uxul �� 126 Figure 5.1. Social network visualization of the Uxul households based on walking times (spring-embedded network visualization with Girvan Newman Clustering groups) �� 132 Figure 5.2. Map of Uxul showing the location of all individual households and their organization into neighborhoods �� 133 Figure 5.3. Social network visualization of Uxul’s households excluding the northern, northeastern, central-northern, and southwestern neighborhoods (spring-embedded network visualization with Girvan Newman Clustering groups) �� 134 Figure 5.4. Map showing the earliest known construction dates for the households of Uxul �� 138 Figure 5.5. Graph showing the relative elevation of the top of household platforms within each neighborhood �� 141 Figure 5.6. Graph showing the relative elevation of the base of household platforms within each neighborhood �� 142 Figure 5.7. Graph showing the height of household platforms within each neighborhood �� 142 Figure 5.8. Scatter plot showing the relationship between household rank and social integration �� 146 Figure 5.9. Graph showing the differences in social integration values for different status categories �� 147 Figure 5.10. Graph showing walking times to the nearest neighbor (in seconds) for different status categories �� 148 Figure 5.11. Graph showing average walking times for members of each wealth category to each other �� 149 Figure 5.12. Graph showing average walking times (in seconds) to and from all households (average of attractiveness and emissiveness) in the different neighborhoods �� 150 Figure 5.13. Graph showing average walking times (in seconds) to and from households within the neighborhood (average of attractiveness and emissiveness) for each neighborhood �� 151 Figure 5.14. Graph showing walking times (in seconds) to a household’s nearest neighbor for each neighborhood �� 152 Figure 5.15. Graph showing average walking times (in seconds) to and from households within the neighborhood (average between attractiveness and emissiveness) for each wealth category �� 152 Figure 5.16. Graph showing average walking times for members of each wealth category to each other within each of the main neighborhoods �� 154 Figure 5.17. Scatter plot showing the relationship between household rank and walking time to the nearest aguada ��156 Figure 5.18. Graph showing differences in walking times to the nearest aguada between households of different status categories �� 157 Figure 5.19. Graph showing differences in walking times to the nearest aguada between the different wealth categories in each neighborhood �� 158 Figure 5.20. Graph showing differences in walking times to the western aguada between the different wealth categories in each neighborhood �� 160 Figure 5.21. Map of Uxul showing the locations of the ceremonial centers �� 163

xii

List of Figures Figure 5.22. Scatter plot showing the relationship between household rank and average walking times to ceremonial centers �� 164 Figure 5.23. Scatter plot showing the relationship between household rank and walking times to the nearest ceremonial center �� 165 Figure 5.24. Graph showing differences in average walking times (in seconds) to the ceremonial centers between households of different status categories �� 166 Figure 5.25. Graph showing differences in walking times (in seconds) to the nearest ceremonial center between households of different status categories �� 166 Figure 5.26. Graph showing differences in average walking times (in seconds) to the ceremonial centers between neighborhoods �� 167 Figure 5.27. Graph showing differences in walking times (in seconds) to the nearest ceremonial centers between neighborhoods �� 167 Figure 5.28. Map showing the location of the chultunes identified during survey �� 172 Figure 5.29. Scatter plot showing the relationship between household rank and walking time to the nearest chultun �� 173 Figure 5.30. Graph showing the average walking times to the nearest chultun for the different status categories in each neighborhood �� 175 Figure 5.31. Graph showing the number of chultunes located within 30 seconds of the households for different status categories in each neighborhood �� 176 Figure 5.32. Graph showing average overall access to resources for the different wealth categories within each neighborhood �� 180 Figure 6.1. Bivariate scatter plot of Magnesium and Calcium concentrations for ceramics measured by pXRF �� 209 Figure 6.2. Bivariate scatter plot of Magnesium and Titanium concentrations for ceramics measured by pXRF �� 210 Figure 6.3. Bivariate scatter plot of Nickel and Rubidium concentrations for ceramics measured by pXRF �� 210 Figure 6.4. Principal components graph (analysis 1) of the elements Si, Ti, Fe, Mg, Ca, Ni, and Rb for ceramics measured by pXRF �� 211 Figure 6.5. Principal components graph (analysis 2) of the elements Si, Mg, Ca, Ni, and Rb for ceramics measured by pXRF �� 211 Figure 6.6. Bivariate scatter plot of Iron and Manganese concentrations for obsidian measured by pXRF �� 236 Figure 6.7. Bivariate scatter plot of Rubidium and Zirconium concentrations for obsidian measured by pXRF �� 236 Figure 6.8. Bivariate scatter plot of Niobium and Strontium concentrations for obsidian measured by pXRF �� 237 Figure 6.9. Bivariate scatter plot of Rubidium and Strontium concentrations showing the individual sources of the obsidian artifacts measured by pXRF �� 237 Figure 6.10. Network visualization calculated from Brainerd-Robinson coefficients for the Classic period (~250/300 - 800 CE) obsidian assemblages, with assemblages with less than eight pieces omitted �� 244

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Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Figure 6.11. Network visualization calculated from Brainerd-Robinson coefficients for the Classic period (~250/300 - 800 CE) obsidian assemblages, with assemblages with less than eight pieces omitted. Based on classification (by geographical zone after Adams and Culbert (1977)), data, and network mapping by Golitko et al. (2012), see above, including data from Uxul. Nodes were connected at a threshold similarity of 120, the minimum value at which all points are connected into a single network �� 244 Figure 6.12. Sample of the greenstone artifacts found in Uxul, including five beads (a: group K; b: group Q; c: group I; d: group K; e: group Ma’ax; f: group Ma’ax), a piece of an ornament (g: group K), a broken earspool (h: group K), a stylized frog pendant (i: group K’anbul), a celt (j: group Ma’ax), a mano (k: group K), and a large slab (l: group K) �� 248 Figure 6.13. Unfinished greenstone earspool and earspool polisher found in group Ya’ab �� 250 Figure 6.14. Sample of malacates found in Uxul by type (a., d., and g. are stone, the rest are ceramic) �� 261 Figure 6.15. Distribution of malacate diameters (in cm) �� 262 Figure 6.16. Distribution of malacate weight (in g) �� 262 Figure 6.17. Distribution of malacate height to diameter ratio �� 263 Figure 6.18. Types of malacates and the architectural groups where they were found �� 265 Figure 6.19. Sample of bone needles and awls found in Uxul (a. and b. are awls and c. is a needle found in Group Q, d. and e. are needles or awls found in Group K) �� 266 Figure 6.20. Sample of perforated discs found in Uxul �� 267 Figure 6.21. Distribution of perforated disc diameters (in cm) �� 268 Figure 6.22. Distribution of perforated disc weights (in g) �� 268 Figure 6.23. Types of perforated discs and the architectural groups where they were found �� 269 Figure 6.24. Sample of anthropomorphic figurines (a.-f.) and zoomorphic ones (g. represents a possible dog, h. an alligator or pig, i. a bird, and j. a feline) found in Uxul (a., d., g., and j. were found in group K, c. and i. in group G, e. in group K’áak’, f. in group Q, and h. in group H) �� 275 Figure 6.25. Sample of whistles (a.), anthropomorphic ocarinas (b.-c.) and zoomorphic ocarinas (d. represents an owl, e. a frog) found in Uxul (a. was found in group Ak’, b. in group Ma’ax, c. in group P, d. in group K’áak’, and e. in group Kopo’) �� 278 Figure 6.26. Sample of the thin-walled flared cylindrical clay earspools (a.-j.) and their molds (k.-n.) found in Uxul. Decorations include an anthropomorphic figure (a.), “woven mat” patterns (b., c., and k.), geometric motifs (d., e., h, i., j., l, and n.), and rim notches (f., k., and l.) �� 283 Figure 6.27. Distribution of the maximum diameter (in cm) of the thin-walled cylindrical earspools found in Uxul �� 284 Figure 6.28. Bark-paper beaters found in Uxul (a. was found in group Ak’, b. in group K, and c. and d. in group G) �� 286

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List of Tables Table 4.1. Table showing the results of the construction volume and surface area calculations for Late Classic Uxul ��114 Table 4.2. Gini values for residential architecture areas and volumes at Uxul and elsewhere �� 121 Table 5.1. Table showing the composition of the different neighborhoods of Late Classic Uxul �� 135 Table 5.2. Table showing the date of the earliest known construction phase of households in different neighborhoods ��137 Table 5.3. Table showing the statistical correlations between household rank and measures of height and elevation relative to the neighborhood�� 143 Table 5.4. Average walking times (in seconds) to and from other households of each status category�� 147 Table 5.5. Table showing the statistical correlations between household rank and social integration measures for the different neighborhoods �� 153 Table 5.6. Access to the aguadas for the households of each status category (walking times are in seconds) �� 157 Table 5.7. Table showing the access of households in the different neighborhoods to the aguadas (walking times are in seconds) �� 159 Table 5.8. Table showing the statistical correlations between household rank and access to the aguadas for the different neighborhoods �� 160 Table 5.9. Walking times (in seconds) to the ceremonial centers from households of each status category �� 165 Table 5.10. Table showing the statistical correlations between household rank and access to the ceremonial centers for the different neighborhoods �� 168 Table 5.11. Table showing the ceremonial centers that households are closest to in each neighborhood �� 169 Table 5.12. Walking times (in seconds) to the nearest chultunes from households of each status category �� 173 Table 5.13. Table showing the average number of chultunes within different walking ranges for households of each status category �� 174 Table 5.14. Table showing the statistical correlations between household rank and access to nearby chultunes for the different neighborhoods �� 177 Table 5.15. Average access (walking times are in seconds) to resources and services (social integration within the neighborhood, access to water, and access to ceremonial services) for households of each status category �� 178 Table 6.1. Table showing the different vessel forms identified at Uxul, their description, and their presumed functions (further subdivisions of these specific shapes were made during their classification, but here only their broad categories, reflecting the functions of those shapes, are presented) �� 191 Table 6.2. Table showing the proportions of ceramics dating to each period found at the individual extensively excavated households �� 192 Table 6.3. Distribution of different stylistic groups of Late Preclassic ceramics found at the extensively excavated households �� 193

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Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Table 6.4. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the Late Preclassic ceramic groups they had access to. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011) �� 194 Table 6.5. Distribution of the different Late Preclassic vessel shapes found at the extensively excavated households ��195 Table 6.6. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the Late Preclassic vessel shapes found there. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011) �� 196 Table 6.7. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the functions of the Late Preclassic ceramic vessels found there. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011) �� 196 Table 6.8. Distribution of different stylistic groups of Early Classic ceramics found at the extensively excavated households �� 197 Table 6.9. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the Early Classic ceramic groups they had access to. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011) �� 198 Table 6.10. Distribution of specific Early Classic polychrome types found at the different households �� 199 Table 6.11. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the Early Classic polychrome ceramic types they had access to. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011) �� 200 Table 6.12. Distribution of the different Early Classic vessel shapes found at the extensively excavated households �� 201 Table 6.13. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the Early Classic vessel shapes found there. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011) �� 202 Table 6.14. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the functions of the Early Classic ceramic vessels found there. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011) �� 203 Table 6.15. Distribution of different stylistic groups of Late Classic ceramics found at the extensively excavated households �� 204 Table 6.16. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the Late Classic ceramic groups they had access to. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011) �� 205 Table 6.17. Table showing the statistical correlations between household rank and the relative proportions of individual Late Classic ceramic groups per household �� 206 Table 6.18. Table showing the numbers and types of the pXRF-tested ceramics for each household �� 209 Table 6.19. Table showing the relationship between ceramic types and the sources they came from �� 212 Table 6.20. Ceramic sources present in the pXRF-analyzed sample at the extensively excavated household groups �� 214 Table 6.21. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the sources of Late Classic ceramics (excluding sources I and III) they had access to. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011) �� 215 Table 6.22. Table showing the statistical correlations between household rank and the relative proportions of individual Late Classic ceramic sources identified per household �� 215 Table 6.23. Distribution of specific Late Classic polychrome types found at the different households �� 216 Table 6.24. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the Late Classic polychrome ceramic types they had access to. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011) �� 217 Table 6.25. Table showing the statistical correlations between household rank and the relative amounts of individual Late Classic polychrome types (as a proportion of total polychrome ceramics) per household �� 217 xvi

List of Tables Table 6.26. Distribution of the different Late Classic vessel shapes found at the extensively excavated households �� 219 Table 6.27. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the Late Classic vessel shapes found there. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)�� 220 Table 6.28. Table showing the statistical correlations between household rank and their relative proportions of forms of Late Classic ceramic vessels, as well as their associated functions�� 221 Table 6.29. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the functions of the Late Classic ceramic vessels found there. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)�� 223 Table 6.30. Distribution of different stylistic groups of Terminal Classic ceramics found at the extensively excavated households�� 224 Table 6.31. Similarity matrix of the household groups (excluding groups Baak, G, and Wob) based on the Terminal Classic ceramic groups they had access to. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)�� 225 Table 6.32. Distribution of the different Terminal Classic vessel shapes found at the extensively excavated households�� 226 Table 6.33. Similarity matrix of the household groups (excluding groups Baak, G, and Wob) based on the Terminal Classic vessel shapes found there. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)�� 226 Table 6.34. Similarity matrix of the household groups (excluding groups Baak, G, and Wob) based on the functions of the Terminal Classic ceramic vessels found there. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)�� 227 Table 6.35. Table showing the average similarity coefficients for the ceramic assemblages of the extensively excavated households through time�� 228 Table 6.36. Distribution of obsidian in the extensively excavated households�� 232 Table 6.37. Table showing the types of obsidian artifacts that were analyzed using pXRF at each of the ten extensively excavated households�� 235 Table 6.38. Identified obsidian sources and their corresponding numbers of matched obsidian artifacts �� 238 Table 6.39. Table showing the distribution of obsidian from different sources identified in the extensively excavated households�� 238 Table 6.40. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the obsidian sources they had access to. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)�� 239 Table 6.41. Table showing the sources of different types of obsidian artifacts�� 240 Table 6.42. Distribution of greenstone artifacts found at Uxul �� 249 Table 6.43. Distribution of shell artifacts found at Uxul �� 254 Table 6.44. Distribution of shell artifacts found in the extensively excavated households �� 256 Table 6.45. Malacate types found at Uxul�� 263 Table 6.46. Types of perforated discs found at Uxul�� 269 Table 6.47. Distribution of figurines found in the ten extensively excavated households �� 276 Table 6.48. Musical instruments found in the ten extensively excavated households �� 279 xvii

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Table 6.49. Incense burners found in the ten extensively excavated households �� 280 Table 6.50. Distribution of artifacts related to ceremonial practices found in the ten extensively excavated households �� 280

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Abstract Our understanding of ancient Maya economies has changed drastically over the last few decades. Mayanists long argued that real markets did not exist in Maya societies before the Postclassic period, and that ancient Maya economies were largely based on household self-sufficiency and centralized redistribution. In recent years, however, archaeologists have recognized that Classic Maya economies were much more complex than previously thought, and Maya markets became an important topic of research. However, while the existence of market exchange in Classic Maya economies is now generally recognized, their prevalence, importance, configuration, and variability are still far from fully understood.

well integrated in the long-distance exchange network. While Late Classic Uxul shows many similarities with other Maya cities at the time when it came to its economic organization, it was also unusual in many ways, showing that ancient Maya economies were varied, and local settlements were able to organize their political and economic lives according to their own needs. Uxul serves as a case study contributing to our understanding of the forms ancient Maya economies could take. Finally, this study shows that by taking a household-based approach, and by combining multiple lines of evidence to study an ancient economic system, such a system can be better understood.

This work examines the economic system of the Classic Maya Lowlands center of Uxul, Campeche. Uxul was a secondary center under the political influence of Calakmul, at its peak during the Late Classic period (7th-8th centuries CE). A household-based approach is used in order to study the economic systems in which these households played a central role. This is done by combining multiple lines of evidence, using both quantitative and qualitative methods, in order to study economic inequality, settlement organization, power structures, quality of life, consumption, production, and exchange at the site. This volume examines the distribution of wealth at the site (using a Gini index), the relationships between households and their access to important resources (using GIS applications and Social Network Analysis), household assemblages, as well as patterns of consumption, production, and specialization (using a distributional approach and pXRF spectrometry). The results of these analyses are combined, in order to better understand the economic system in place at Uxul, as well as the socio-political power structures that underpinned it. The role of Uxul in the wider economic network is also discussed, in particular its economic relationship to its political leader, Calakmul. The results of this research show that the economy of Uxul was largely based on administered market exchange, where the elite had some measure of control over market processes, but market exchange was free, and responsible for the distribution of the bulk of goods and resources. Governance was largely autocratic in nature, and centralized collective action was minimal. However, although wealth inequality was high, power and status were not directly related to wealth or based purely on economic control. People along the socio-economic spectrum had a high degree of economic agency, comparable quality of life, and economic mobility was possible, with a possible middleclass of well-off non-elites emerging. Furthermore, Uxul was relatively prosperous, economically independent, and

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1 Introduction Our understanding of ancient Maya economies has changed drastically over the last few decades. Mayanists long argued that real markets did not exist in Maya societies before the Postclassic period (see for example Porter-Weaver 1972; Thompson 1970). Barring a few archaeologists who recognized patterns of market exchange in the Classic Maya archaeological record (see for example Fry 1969, 1979; Fry and Cox 1974; Rands 1967), it is only during the last years that the majority of archaeologists recognized that ancient Maya economies were much more complex than previously thought, and concepts of commerce and market exchange started to be much more widely applied to Classic Maya economies (King 2020a, 443). While a few decades ago, the existence of Maya markets was barely considered possible, they are now an important and growing topic of research (see for example Becker 2015; Braswell 2010; Chase et al. 2015; D. Chase and A. Chase 2014; Dahlin et al. 2010; Freidel, Masson, and Rich 2017; Hutson 2017a, 2021; Hutson, Dahlin, and Mazeau 2010; King 2015, 2020; Masson and Freidel 2012; Masson, Freidel, and Demarest 2020; McAnany 2010; Paris 2021; Ruhl, Dunning, and Carr 2018, 83; Shaw 2012; Wells 2006). New investigative techniques and rising scholarly interest in Maya economies have provided many new insights into the organization of Classic Maya society and demonstrated the importance of market exchange. It is becoming clear that there is no singular overarching model that can explain ancient Maya economy, and the variability and complexity of Maya economies are now recognized and have become a major topic of investigation for Mayanists.

Uxul was a secondary urban center located in southern Campeche, just north of the border with Guatemala, within the current Calakmul Biosphere Reserve (see Figure 1.1 for a map showing the location of Uxul). From 2009 to 2015, the Uxul Archaeological Project of the University of Bonn, Germany has conducted extensive survey and excavation at the site under the general direction of Nikolai Grube and Antonio Benavides Castillo. Research was performed in collaboration with the Mexican Institute of Anthropology and History (INAH) and was funded by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (DFG) (Grube et al. 2012). Uxul was a dispersed Central Maya Lowlands settlement, at its peak during the Late Classic period in the 7th and 8th centuries CE, with an estimated total of at least 5000 to 7000 inhabitants. During this time, it was under the influence of the major political center of Calakmul, located some 34 km to the northeast. It is estimated that the settlement occupied some 5 km2, 3.8 km2 of which have been mapped (see Figure 1.2) (Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, iii). The primary goal of the Uxul Archaeological Project was to investigate the relationship between Uxul and Calakmul and to understand the integration of the site into the Calakmul political sphere (Grube et al. 2012). After the initial investigation of the ceremonial and residential compounds that make up the core of the settlement, research goals expanded to include the examination of the Uxul hydraulic system (Seefeld 2013b) as well as its residential contexts, and the excavation of household groups in different parts of the settlement became a major focus of the research strategies at the site. This provides a wealth of information on which to base the analysis of Uxul’s Late Classic economy through an examination of its households. Extensive excavations were conducted at ten of the household groups that were identified at Uxul. These were located both at the center of the site and on its peripheries, and included households ranging in status and size from the monumental palace complex to commoner households containing mainly perishable structures. Additionally, a test-pit program concerning 42% of all household groups identified in Uxul provided data on the chronology of their construction and occupation (Grube and Delvendahl 2014b). The remaining household groups, although not archaeologically investigated, were mapped in detail, providing information about not only their location, but also their layout, size, and relationships with each other.

The goal of this work is to analyze the economic system of an ancient Maya Lowlands secondary center: the site of Uxul, Campeche, Mexico. This site serves as a case study of a Classic Maya economy, aimed at contributing to our understanding of the forms Maya economies could take. For this, I use a household-based approach, as households are the basic economic and social units of society, and reflect the economic systems in which they play central roles (following Gonlin 2020, 393–94). I study the economy of Uxul by combining multiple lines of evidence and deploying both quantitative and qualitative methods. I examine how wealth was distributed among households, and how this related to patterns of well-being, mobility, and access to goods and resources. I also study what patterns of intra-site mobility and settlement organization tell us about socio-economic structures at Uxul. Finally, I analyze how patterns of household consumption and production can reveal the exchange processes behind them and reflect the way individual households were integrated into the wider settlement economy.

Ancient Maya Lowland societies showed a high degree of variation in urban economic systems, which varied depending on the type and size of communities, political

1

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 1.1. Map showing the location of Uxul (after Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, ii).

organization, availability of natural resources, connection to long-distance exchange networks, etc., and there is no single overarching economic model for the Classic Maya (Demarest et al. 2020; Freidel 2020; Hutson 2020b; King 2020a, 2020b; Lemonnier 2009, 87). This variability

applies to the roles that people of varying socio-economic status played in economic systems and the amount of economic control that rulers and nobles had over the economy. The study of Classic Maya economic systems, especially with regard to processes outside of elite and

2

Introduction

Figure 1.2. Site map of Uxul showing the locations of the ten extensively excavated households (modified from map created by B. Volta and I. Paap, Uxul Archaeological Project).

3

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands centralized contexts, however, is relatively new. For a long time, models of Classic Maya economic systems were mainly based on an understanding of elite contexts, positioning rulers as dominating economic processes through control over redistribution and long-distance trade (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 239; Dahlin 2009, 356; Golitko and Feinman 2015, 238; Shaw 2012, 118). Markets were all but absent from these conceptions of ancient Maya economies, and the role of non-elites was largely ignored. It has become clear in recent years, however, that Maya households and settlements showed much higher degrees of differentiation, interconnection, and complexity than such models entail (Shaw 2012, 117). Research emphasizing the role of market exchange in complex ancient economies has gained significant traction, improving our understanding of these economies and the roles of non-elites within them. Systematic research into Maya economies is being performed at increasing rates, allowing for a better understanding of ancient Maya economies and their variability (see for example Becker 2015; Braswell 2010; Cap 2015; Chase et al. 2015; D. Chase and A. Chase 2014; Dahlin 2009; Dahlin et al. 2010; Folan et al. 2009; Freidel, Masson, and Rich 2017; Halperin et al. 2009; Hutson 2017a; Hutson, Dahlin, and Mazeau 2010; King 2015, 2020; Masson and Freidel 2012; McAnany 2010; Ruhl, Dunning, and Carr 2018; Shaw 2012; Shaw and King 2015; Terry, Bair, and Coronel 2015; Wells 2006). Although it is now generally accepted that marketplaces and market exchange often played an important role in Classic Maya economies, their configuration, organization, and variability, however, are still far from being fully understood. The present research serves as a case study of the economy of a Classic Maya Lowlands secondary center, and aims to contribute to our understanding of the different forms ancient Maya economies could take.

to incorporate multiple lines of evidence and analytical tools to reach higher degrees of certainty (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 178; Friesen and Scheidel 2009, 63; Hutson 2020b; Peterson and Drennan 2018). This is what the present research aims to achieve by integrating multiple lines of evidence and several analytical approaches to gain a better understanding of the economy of ancient Uxul. The main methods and analytical tools that form the basis of this research are the following: • The analysis of wealth inequality (using a Gini index) • The analysis of settlement patterns (using GIS applications and Social Network Theory) • The analysis of intra-site mobility (using GIS applications) • The analysis of household consumption patterns (using a distributional approach (Hirth 1998) and artifact data) • The analysis of the chemical composition of materials (using pXRF to source and distinguish obsidian and ceramic samples) • The analysis of household production and specialization patterns (using artifact data) The lines of evidence and sources of data used to perform the above analyses are the following: • Survey maps • Excavation reports • Artifacts and databases The survey map forms an important part of many of the analyses performed throughout this book. It contains a wealth of information about Uxul’s households, even when they were not included in excavation strategies. The map allows for the analysis of site-wide patterns of household size, location, and configuration. It allows for an examination of the site-wide distribution of wealth among households during the Late Classic period. It also forms the basis for the analysis of spatial relationships between households, as well as with other elements of city life. Furthermore, it permits the examination of intra-site mobility, settlement patterns, and the processes responsible for them.

The present research is in line with recent analytical trends, combining quantitative and qualitative methods to study the economy of ancient Uxul through a householdbased approach. Because households form the basic social and economic units of society they offer an opportunity to study economic processes from both an individual household perspective and a settlement-wide perspective through the examination of their similarities, differences, and relations. By using quantifiable archaeological data, it is possible to study ancient economic processes in a systematic way, identify observable trends, and enable comparison both internally (between the households of Uxul) and externally (with other archaeological sites). The combination with qualitative methods allows for a study of individual ancient households, contributing to our understanding of the place of these different units within the wider Uxul economy.

Ten extensively excavated households (Groups Ak’, Baak, G, K, K’áak’, M, Ma’ax, Pu’uk, Wob, and Ya’ab, see Figure 1.2) form a major source of information about artifact patterns at the site and the roles that households along the socio-economic spectrum and in different parts of the city played in the economy of the settlement. Several different layers of society, as well as households both in the center and on the periphery of the site, are represented in this sample. These ten household groups form an important source of information for our understanding of economic processes in different types of households, and their integration into the wider economic system. Their examination allows for both an analysis of the individual economic characteristics of these household groups, and for the identification of economic patterns observable in the distribution of artifact assemblages.

When dealing with the archaeological record a known issue is that of equifinality: a single observed pattern can be the result of a number of economic mechanisms, while a single economic mechanism can result in different observed patterns. In order to deal with this, it is necessary 4

Introduction I use data from these excavations in order to study the distribution of different types of artifacts and gain insight into consumption patterns. Furthermore, the results of the extensive excavations are used to identify household production and specialized activities.

along the socio-economic spectrum live in Uxul? How do these settlement patterns reflect the political and economic organization of Uxul? Although the questions outlined above form the main focus of the present research, there are additional questions that are explored throughout this work. This includes topics relating to the place of Uxul in the wider economic network, its relationship with the major political center of Calakmul, the development of Uxul’s economic system over time, and the ways its economic system compared to other Maya cities at the time. This included questions such as How was Uxul integrated into the longdistance trade network? What role did it play in regional trade systems? What characterized the connection between Uxul and Calakmul? To what extent was Uxul economically dependent on its political overlords? How did the economic system of Uxul and its reliance on market exchange change over time? How did the economy of Uxul resemble and differ from contemporary urban economies in the Maya area? Although each of these questions is deserving of thorough examination, it was beyond the scope of this work to investigate them exhaustively. However, through studying the main research topics listed above, some answers to these questions were touched upon, and preliminary conclusions on these topics are discussed where relevant.

Overall, I focus on the distribution of wealth, measures of general well-being, consumption patterns, and the organization of production in order to gain a more complete understanding of economic processes existing in Uxul, and their implications for their organization and the mechanisms responsible for them. The research questions that are crucial to the present study and our understanding of Uxul’s economic organization through the use of a household-based approach are presented below. 1.1. Research questions There are three main research questions that are central to the present research: 1. What was the nature of production, distribution, and consumption processes in Late Classic Uxul? 2. How was wealth distributed in Late Classic Uxul? 3. How were economic, social, and political processes organized and interrelated in Late Classic Uxul? Each of these research questions consists of a number of related subordinate questions, which together allow for the study of the economy of ancient Uxul from a number of different perspectives and through a number of different approaches.

1.2. Book organization In order to provide answers to the research questions, the main body of this book is organized into eight chapters. In the first part of the book, the general framework of the research is discussed, including the geographical, historical, and cultural context of Uxul, as well as the theoretical and methodological frameworks used throughout this research, and an in-depth discussion of the available data. In Chapter 2, the theoretical and methodological framework used to answer the main research questions of this study is discussed. Here, I provide definitions of some of the most important and ambiguous concepts and terms that are central to this research and the way they are used. I also provide a discussion of our current understanding concerning these concepts, in particular on ancient Maya households, economic organization, power structures, and settlement organization. In this way, I aim to provide context for these topics, which are central throughout this research on the Uxul case study. Furthermore, I provide an in-depth discussion of how the research questions are approached and the models that are used for interpreting the results of these analyses.

Ad 1. What was the nature of production, distribution, and consumption processes in Late Classic Uxul? This topic includes questions such as: To what extent was market exchange present in Uxul? Who had access to different types of consumer goods? How was production organized? How is market exchange reflected in the consumption and production patterns of Uxul? Who had economic power and agency? Ad 2. How was wealth distributed in Late Classic Uxul? This topic includes questions such as: Does the distribution of wealth correspond to a highly stratified society? Who was able to accumulate wealth? How was wealth reflected in daily life? How does the distribution of wealth reflect the economic and political processes that were in place in Uxul? Ad 3. How were economic, social, and political processes organized and interrelated in Late Classic Uxul? This topic includes questions such as: What were the relationships between wealth and power? To what degree did the ruling class have control over economic processes in Uxul? What role did people and households along the socio-economic spectrum play within their neighborhoods and the wider settlement? What differences in access to resources and services were there between socio-economic classes? How was the settlement of Uxul organized? Where did people

Chapter 3 introduces the ancient Maya settlement of Uxul. I discuss its geographic setting, layout, the history of research on the site, as well as an overview of our current understanding of its history, organization, and cultural situation. Here, I also introduce and discuss the data that are available for this research, their context, and the ways in which they are analyzed, both quantitatively and qualitatively. I present the ten households that were 5

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands extensively excavated at Uxul. These are the households that form an important basis for our understanding of both general patterns of economic organization at Uxul, and the role of individual households within it. This chapter, then, provides context for many of the analyses and patterns that are discussed throughout this work.

and analyses. I present a model of the Late Classic Uxul economy, with regard in particular to the importance of market exchange, the relationships between wealth and political organization, and economic independence at and of Uxul.

In the second part of the book, the analysis of the data available on the economy of ancient Uxul is presented. In Chapter 4, I study the distribution of wealth at Late Classic Uxul using a Gini index, based on household construction volumes. I discuss the implications of the observed distribution of wealth with regard to the economic processes responsible for it. In Chapter 5, I study the way the settlement of Uxul was organized with regard to mobility, household location, and neighborhood identification. I use spatial analyses in order to understand how the settlement of Uxul was organized, and how the wealth of different households was reflected in their household location with regard to visibility, mobility, social integration, access to resources such as the water reservoirs, religious services, and underground storage. In Chapter 6, I study the distribution of artifacts and household assemblages at Uxul. This includes the analysis of consumption patterns, the organization of production, and their implications for our understanding of exchange processes. I discuss the distribution patterns of diverse types of artifacts: ceramics, obsidian, greenstone, shell, spindle whorls, bone implements, figurines, musical instruments, clay earspools, incense burners, bark beaters, and chert. This chapter includes a discussion of the implications of consumption and production patterns for our understanding of the organization of the exchange processes that were responsible for them. In the final part of this book, the results of the analyses are discussed. In Chapter 7, I combine the findings from each of the different lines of research in order to provide an interpretative synthesis and discuss their implications for our understanding of the ancient Uxul economy. I discuss the evidence and its implications for the topics of wealth inequality, the possible existence of a middle class, settlement organization, consumption patterns, and production patterns. I also discuss the evidence available for our understanding of the place of Uxul in a wider economic network, its chronology and evolution, and some of the ways in which Uxul may compare to other ancient Maya economies. In this chapter, I show how the different analyses combine to present a coherent model of the economic and political organization of ancient Uxul, and how they each contribute to a better understanding of Uxul’s economic system as a whole without obscuring individual characteristics, through the use of a householdbased approach. Finally, in Chapter 8, I present the main conclusions of this research. I return to the research questions and discuss how these are answered using the present data 6

Part I Framework

7

2 Theory and Methods 2.1. Key Definitions

differences using common theoretical concepts (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 176).

2.1.1. Economy

Such a cross-cultural approach to the definition of economy must therefore rely on common factors: economic systems can be compared because they can be framed in terms of common economic processes and strategies (Feinman 2008, 1114–15). It is these common factors that must underpin any general definition of economy. This also implies that any such definition must be based on a theoretical understanding of how human societies work.

There has long been a debate in the field of pre-modern economies concerning the way the term “economy” should be defined (Burling 1962; Isaac, 213–15; LeClair, Jr. 1962, 1179; Smith 2004, 73–78). This debate has played out for a large part as an opposition between formalists and substantivists. Formalists argue that western and primitive economies differ from each other only in degree, meaning that the field of western economic theory can successfully be adapted and used to study non-western economic systems; substantivists contend that they differ in kind rather than degree, rendering formal economic theory incapable of yielding useful insights when applied to archaeological or anthropological contexts (Dalton 1969; Feinman and Garraty 2010, 171–73; Isaac 1993, 214; LeClair, Jr. 1962, 1180–81; Polanyi 1957, 243–44, 1959, 162). However, as Isaac (1993, 219–21) points out, this philosophical split should not be exaggerated as there is, in practice, considerable cross-fertilization between uniformitarian and individualistic tendencies, which are in fact often incorporated in the same work.

Broadly defined, then, economics is the study of the provisioning of society, and the relationships between populations and their natural and cultural resources, encompassing the production, exchange, and consumption of goods and services (Costin 1991, 1; following Feinman 2008, 1114–15; LeClair, Jr. 1962, 1189; Smith 2004, 74). It should be noted that this definition includes both material and immaterial goods and services, and is not limited to only those that we traditionally include in western market systems (Burling 1962, 810; Dalton 1969, 64; LeClair, Jr. 1962, 1189). This means that acts that are usually considered, for example, to have a primarily political or kinship character, such as arbitrating disputes or teaching children good manners, can also be seen as services with economic aspects (Burling 1962, 805).

LeClair (1962, 1187) calls attention to the danger of allowing superficial similarities to mask fundamental differences, but also, reversely, to the danger of allowing superficial differences to mask fundamental similarities. He argues that a general theory of economy should be possible: while ethnographic literature provides a testament to the diversity of human experience, it also reveals the existence of characteristically human problems met in characteristically human ways (LeClair, Jr. 1962, 1188). A productive way to search for general structural laws of economy, while at the same time taking into account the true uniqueness of each culture in its elements and configurations, should therefore be found (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 176; Isaac 1993, 220). This also means, however, that a general theory of economic process and structure cannot be based on contemporary western economic theory alone, as it constitutes essentially just a single case study (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 176). Instead, any formulation of such a general theory must take into account all the varied economies that exist, as well as permit controlled and systematic comparisons between all special cases (LeClair, Jr. 1962, 1188). Approaches must be found that do not deny the fact that each historical context has its own distinctive features, nor gloss over the analytically important differences between ancient and modern economies, but that, instead, study those

Economic behavior can be defined as a choice (Burling 1962, 810). Time and resources for achieving ends are by definition limited, and one must choose how to use them and to what ends. Thus, economic behavior can be seen as the allocation of scarce resources, whether material or not, to alternative ends (Burling 1962, 810; LeClair, Jr. 1962, 1188–89; Robbins 1935, 14). This said, we can be considered to allocate our scarce resources, be they material objects, time, or energy, in everything we do, meaning that all behavior can be seen in terms of economic choices: The woman organizing her housework, the man allocating his time between his family and his club, the child deciding whether to play baseball or fly a kite, the political leader distributing patronage, and the feast giver who “gives” away food in order to accumulate prestige, are making “economic” decisions whether or not money has anything to do with their choice, and whether or not they are dealing with “material” objects (Burling 1962, 811) This does not necessarily mean, however, that these choices are always efficient, rational, or even conscious

9

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands from an economic point of view. After all, the fact that the concept of ‘rationality’ varies from one culture to the next indicates that it cannot be seen as a human universal or standard but is instead dependent on cultural processes (Binford 1983, 220; Eriksen 2001, 40–41; Smith 1983, 627–29; Wells 2006, 265). The focus on rational actors as the primary units of analysis is insufficient to account for the observed variability in economic behaviors (Wells 2006, 266). Additionally, when it comes to the concept of the efficiency of economic choices, it is implied that the people making these choices possess complete knowledge of all the factors that influence the efficiency of their choice (whether environmental, cultural, technological, personal, or other) and of all the alternatives available to them, otherwise people would be incapable of making truly efficient choices (Binford 1983, 220; Pierce and Ollason 1987, 114; Pyke 1984, 523–26; Sheehan 2004, 169; Smith 1983, 626–39). Since knowledge is often costly to obtain, and it is virtually impossible for one person to have deep knowledge of all factors, true efficiency should not be expected in personal choices.

considerations and factors may inform decisions (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 172). In practice, individuals must often choose between goals as it is usually impossible to maximize all or multiple of them at once. Economic choices thus represent a tradeoff between what one gets and what one must forego (North 1981, 4). An individual strives to maximize his or her utility by satisfying wants, but these are usually ill-defined, may shift, can be conflicting, and differ between individuals (Burling 1962, 817; Frier and Kehoe 2007, 115; Isaac 1993, 216; LeClair, Jr. 1962, 1188). Additionally, actors in economic systems do not have perfect knowledge about the transactions in which they are engaging, and because knowledge is costly to obtain individual economic actors are limited in their ability to pursue rational goals efficiently (Frier and Kehoe 2007, 121). As a result, we are economizing in everything we do, always trying to maximize our utility by making economic choices, with varying degrees of rationality and efficiency, of how to allocate our limited resources to alternative ends. 2.1.1.1. Economy in its institutional context

This is where the concepts of bounded rationality and satisficing have been used to introduce cognitive limitations and reflect social and environmental factors within decision-making processes (Ray 2016, 90). ‘To satisfice’ means that instead of aiming to choose an optimal outcome or select an item that is classed as unique or the best, an alternative is often evaluated and selected when it attains or exceeds specific criteria, even when more optimal alternatives could have been obtained (Ray 2016, 90). Thus, this concept is related to the idea of rationality, but not in terms of formal economic theory that assumes full optimization of resources or maximization of utility (Ray 2016, 90). An economic choice is made to satisfice a goal, even when it does not correspond to the most optimal solution possible for that goal.

In the field of social theory, it is considered that the individuals that form a society are not mere passive receptors of the culture in which they live but that they act as fully conscious agents within that culture (MurrietaFlores 2010, 250). However, social reproduction is a perpetually ongoing process that is intertwined with the daily activities that individuals (or groups of individuals) carry out throughout their lives (Murrieta-Flores 2010, 250). Individual thinking and action, while the product of conscious choice, exist within the context of one’s culture, and one’s behavior is therefore always influenced by it (Murrieta-Flores 2010, 250). While economic behavior is described as personal choices and actions, it must be understood that these individual behaviors are inscribed within an institutional environment, as argued in New Institutional Economics approaches (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 173; Frier and Kehoe 2007, 113; Klein 2000; North 1981, 1994; Wells 2006, 266). The institutional environment of an economy can be defined as a set of rules and constraints, including formal and explicit rules (constitutions, laws, property rights, etc.), as well as informal and implicit ones (social conventions, norms, ideologies, etc.) (Frier and Kehoe 2007, 113; Klein 2000, 458; North 1994, 366). These background rules can be explained in terms of the goals, beliefs, and choices by individual actors, but the social result is typically not explicitly known or designed by anyone in particular (Klein 2000, 458). Individuals tend to develop strategies in order to manipulate and profit from these structures (Giddens 1986). Such strategies influence the way in which institutions are transformed, but it is also the individuals’ daily acts that continually reproduce and reinforce these institutional structures (Giddens 1986; Murrieta-Flores 2010, 250).

When people choose how to spend their time, money, energy, or resources, they do so based on a multitude of possible goals and reasons, which can be conflicting, and not all of which are necessarily economic in nature (consciously geared towards production, exchange, or consumption). Nevertheless, each choice has economic implications and can be analyzed from an economic point of view. Thus, economic aspects are present in every type of behavior in the form of a choice about how resources are allocated (Burling 1962, 813; LeClair, Jr. 1962, 1188– 89). This means that economics as a field of study deals not with a type of behavior, but rather with an aspect of it (Burling 1962, 818). The notion that human behavior is geared towards the maximization of some desired end is a fundamental concept in economic thinking (Burling 1962, 813; Feinman and Garraty 2010, 172; North 1981, 4). However, people do not always simply try to maximize things such as money, profit, basic biological functions, or power, or to minimize effort. All of these enter into our decisions, but they are not necessarily the predominant factors, as any number of

Institutions and the rules they introduce and enforce are almost always geared towards the lowering of transaction 10

Theory and Methods costs, providing easier access to information, and reducing risks, thus increasing efficiency (Bang 2009, 203). However, few institutions have only beneficial effects, and the arrangements they provide almost always favor some over others (Bang 2009, 203). The perceived legitimacy, then, of these systems, and the strength of shared ideological convictions constraining individual economic choices are crucial to the viability of any economic organization (North 1981, 44). Investment in legitimacy can therefore be considered to be an important cost of economic organization (North 1981, 44). Indeed, the amount of control that the elite can exert, and the degree of social compliance depend on the condition that non-elites continue to get what they consider appropriate (Wells 2006, 272).

Pooling is here understood to be the process of distribution of products within the household, while exchange is the distribution of products among households or between larger corporate units (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 624–25). The distribution functions of the household are found to vary systematically with the mode of subsistence and production, with some societies relying almost entirely on pooling within the household, while in others both pooling and exchange play an important role (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 625). For archaeologists, the study of distribution or exchange of goods and services can be considered central to the study of society because of the association of goods and information in most, if not all, exchanges. Exchange interactions are therefore a vital aspect of the embeddedness of the economy in society (Renfrew 1984, 89).

Economic institutions help determine the forms in which economic activity was organized, and shaped the distribution of wealth between the participants of economic systems; they influence and help determine, but were also shaped by, individual economic behaviors (Frier and Kehoe 2007, 113; North 1994, 366; Wells 2006, 266). Belief systems are typically articulated with economic systems to help create and reinforce structural inequalities (Wells 2006, 266). Individuals may choose to obey customs, rules, and laws based on a deep-seated conviction that the system is just, or conversely, they may choose to ignore them based on an equally deep-seated conviction that the system is unjust (North 1981, 12). But all individuals within a society or social unit have a common set of rules and systems to which they relate and on which they base their actions. It should be recognized that the definition of economic behavior as choices geared towards maximization is not limited to the individual. Economic behavior often includes considerations of cooperation, social transmission, and the collective management of resources (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 173). Economic action is thus socially embedded (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 173).

Any economic system or organization must have provisions for specifying and enforcing transaction rules (North 1981, 35). This means that there must exist some form of regulating system (whether based on law, social conventions, or any other system) that provides a common set of rules understood and accepted by both buyers and sellers, enabling them to complete transactions. The perceived legitimacy of such a regulating system is crucial in enforcing transaction rules, meaning that investment in legitimacy is as much a cost of economic organization as are measurement and enforcement costs (North 1981, 44). Processes of distribution and exchange are contingent on the concept of property rights, including questions such as who owns what, what does ownership mean, and how can it be exercised? (Frier and Kehoe 2007, 134). What counts as property susceptible to be privately or publicly owned (physical objects, land, water, access to resources, technologies, ideas, other human beings, etc.) also determines what can be done with it and by whom (Frier and Kehoe 2007, 135).

This leads to a conception of social organization as a whole as a system of exchange (following Burling 1962, 818). Any interaction between individuals is in fact an exchange of goods and/or services, material and non-material, and can be expressed in terms of profit, reward, and costs of time, energy, and resources (Homans 1958, 597). All individuals and their interactions, and the economic decisions that they make are inalienable from their context: they are part of a set of rules of social organization, a system into which each of us is born and the rules of which we learn (Dalton 1969, 66; Isaac 1993, 216).

Research on ancient economies has largely been framed by Polany’s (1957, 250–56) contrast between three modes of exchange: reciprocity, redistribution, and market exchange (Feinman 2008, 174). In this view, reciprocity describes face-to-face exchanges of equal amounts of value between actors with a social connection, whereas redistribution constitutes a centralized pattern of transfer in which goods move to a central authority and then later are reapportioned out (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 174; Polanyi 1957, 250–56). Market exchange is contingent on the forces of supply and demand, and exchange equivalencies (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 171). These ideas resulted in a classification of economic systems that tended to equate reciprocal exchange with egalitarian societies, redistributive economies with hierarchically organized preindustrial societies, and market exchange with Western capitalism (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 174). However, such rigid taxonomic framing seems to be far too simplistic and has resulted in oversimplifications and erroneous assumptions (Feinman and Garraty 2010,

2.1.1.2. Distribution and modes of exchange 2.1.1.2.1. Exchange and distribution Distribution is the process of moving resources from producers to consumers (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 624). Different levels can be distinguished within distribution: pooling and exchange (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 624–25). 11

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands 174–75). Instead, it seems that different modes of transfer and exchange are present in every society alongside each other in different proportions and configurations (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 171).

Market exchange occurs in contexts that can range from highly centralized, for example, by creating special zones or places for it to take place (i.e. periodic or permanent marketplaces), to isolated, in the context of trading partnerships and other reciprocal relationships that may be unique and independent activities (Hirth 1998, 455). While in theory market exchanges may be atomized and impersonal or personal and embedded, in practice all market transactions presuppose some kind of social relationship among the parties to an exchange and therefore are embedded, albeit in greatly varying degrees and distinct ways (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 171). The dissemination of supply-demand information is multifaceted and responsive to a variety of social considerations such as notions of value and fairness, word of mouth, bargaining practices, the personal relationships between exchange participants, as well as negotiations over price-setting involving sellers, merchants, guilds, and trade groups, or top-down by governing officials (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 171).

There is not a single mode or sphere of exchange that exists in a given society. Depending on social and economic conventions, the relationships between those involved in an exchange, the intentions of the parties involved, the particular circumstances of an exchange, and many more factors are all involved in determining the kind of exchange that is going on (Theuws 2004, 124–25). The same object or commodity could belong to multiple spheres of exchange (Theuws 2004, 125). The exchange of both commodities and gifts occurs in almost all societies, and the transfer of products between spheres is possible (Theuws 2004, 125). The strategic dimension of the gift indicates that there are broad continuities between gifts and other kinds of exchange, meaning that goods are not typically classified in an absolute way as either ‘gifts’ or ‘commodities’ (Wells 2006, 281–82). Instead, objects can be seen as moving through phases with overlapping social features, such as exchangeability and alienability, which are emphasized or de-emphasized at different times (Wells 2006, 282). Therefore, exchange patterns that are observed archaeologically can’t be explained in rigid terms of either gift or commodity exchange, but instead should be understood as the results of a wide range of acquisition choices in response to changing political, economic, social, and ecological circumstances (Wells 2006, 282). Spheres of exchange do not only exist alongside each other, but continually articulate with one another, following the norms and values of a society (Theuws 2004, 125). Together these exchange spheres form an indivisible whole, a transactional order the interconnections of which need to be analyzed in order to understand a society’s exchange system (Theuws 2004, 125).

An important characteristic of market exchange is that buyers and sellers interact within the context of market exchange independent of social rank (Hirth 1998, 455). That is to say that social rank does not affect the basic structure or balance of marketplace exchange, and no enduring relationship is necessary beyond the completion of a transaction. While longer-term personal relationships may be established between interacting parties within the marketplace under certain economic conditions, these linkages are not based primarily on social or economic inequality (Hirth 1998, 455). In order to be able to compare market systems, they need to be characterized on the basis of a number of parameters that are relevant aspects of the ways these market systems are organized and function. The interplay of a market with other institutions, such as governing authorities, is one of these factors (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 178). It has long been assumed that political power and the extent of commercialization are inversely related (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 178). However, there is a range of ways in which these relations can manifest themselves at different socio-economic scales (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 178). In many past societies, political elites were purveyors of market exchange and commercial expansion, and studies of past market systems reveal that relations between rulers and markets were as frequently collaborative as they were antagonistic (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 179). However, households participate directly in the procurement of resources for exchange in markets, with minimal reliance on an intervening social authority: although marketplaces are often supervised and regulated by specific rulers, the economic transactions themselves are not subject to direct social or political control (Hirth 1998, 455).

2.1.1.2.2. Market exchange Market exchange, following Feinman and Garraty (2010, 171), is defined as economic transactions where the forces of supply and demand are relevant and perceptible to market participants, and where prices or exchange equivalencies exist. It should be noted that in all economies, market exchange, when present, coexists with other modes of transfer and exchange (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 239; Feinman and Garraty 2010, 171). Markets are social institutions predicated on the market exchange of alienable commodities (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 172). The social context of the market is here defined as the networks of relationships involved in market exchange and the establishment of prices or equivalencies (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 172). The social embeddedness of markets does not, however, negate the fundamental role of self-interested economic behavior geared towards the maximization of utility in market exchange (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 172).

Market formation and expansion may stem both from topdown and bottom-up dynamics, meaning that explanations for this socio-economic process require multi-scalar approaches (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 179). So both the 12

Theory and Methods micro-economic scale of household decision making, as well as the macro-economic scale of institutions that define the social conditions and rules of the game in which those decisions are made inform market processes (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 179–80).

may provide the elite with venues and opportunities for taxation and tribute (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 240, 2020). Furthermore, they can bestow prestige and status on the elite households who supervise the market locations (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 240). Markets can serve to signal the power of the ruler who supervises their formal construction and organization, and an impressive market would be a means of political and economic propaganda, receiving merchants from other cities that would return home with tales and goods, spreading the influence of a polity (Ruhl, Dunning, and Carr 2018, 84).

Another important dimension of market diversity is the relative significance and the degree of commercialization (the extent to which different commodities are integrated and removed from market channels over a long time span) in specific economic settings (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 178; Smith 1976b, 313). Dynamic processes of commercial expansion and contraction in market systems partly reflect social attitudes and moral perceptions concerning alienability and transferability of specific classes of goods or labor (for example, the commercialization or de-commodification of land rights, slaves, child labor, or political office) (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 178).

While barter can be defined as a transaction without formal media of exchange in which commonly held notions of value equivalencies are initially absent but ultimately achieved (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 171), it is not incompatible with the notion of market exchange, as is sometimes assumed. Formal currency, while it aids market organization and centralized control over market processes in particular, is not necessary for market exchange to exist. When barter is based on widely shared perceptions of value, which are inscribed in the social and cultural institutions of a society, market exchange can be based on informal barter, as it is still going on in local markets in the Oaxaca highlands today, for example.

The marketplace is here defined as a location that is repeatedly used for the exchange of goods, and at which the episodes of exchange are often held within a predictable time schedule (following Shaw 2012, 122). It is a place where market exchange transactions take place, meaning that these transactions are not bound by kinship ties, and are characterized by a wide range of commodities, and at least a loosely defined standard of exchange (Shaw 2012, 122). Prices are not set but fluctuate according to supply and demand processes (Shaw 2012, 122). While market exchange can take place outside of specific marketplaces, and market economies can in fact exist without the existence of marketplaces, it is the repeated and predictable use of a space for economic transactions that allows a society to operate a fully commercialized economy that is open to most, if not all, of its members (Shaw 2012, 122).

Compared to other forms of economic distribution, marketplace exchange tends to increase the volume, diversity, efficiency, and distance of goods moving through the distribution system (Hirth 1998, 455). By bringing together a diversity of products in one locality, markets provide a setting for a wide range of conversions between different commodities (Hirth 1998, 455). Marketplaces provide an efficient means of distributing large quantities of resources throughout a society by providing equal access to commodities for all consuming units (Hirth 1998, 455).

Markets typically perform three important economic functions (Hirth 1998, 452):

2.1.1.3. Classic Maya economy

• Supply: they bring together stocks of staple goods in central locations that can be accessed by consumers on a regular basis • Distribution: they provide an outlet to craft and service specialists for their wares and a source of the resources necessary for their support • Scheduling: they assist individuals to manage their time and labor budgets efficiently through the predictability of supply and distribution

2.1.1.3.1. Household production The typical Mesoamerican society was an agrarian one, based on small-scale production at the household level (Golitko and Feinman 2015, 239; McAnany 2010; Wyatt 2020). Processes of production, storage, and distribution were mainly localized and organized at the household level, as well as that of the neighborhood (Hendon 1991, 2000; Lemonnier 2012; McAnany 2010; Sheets 2000, 228). Household units seem to have had a high degree of subsistence autonomy, with food production and processing representing some of the most basic and universal household activities in households of all ranks (Hendon 1991, 904; Sheets 2000, 224; Smith 1987, 309– 10; Triadan 2000; Wyatt 2020). Households in ancient Mesoamerica tend to be differentiated with regard to (partially) specialized production activities, and they seem to have formed the backbone of these ancient economies (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 243; Kovacevich 2013, 257; McAnany 2010). Indeed, in Maya archaeology, nearly all contexts for specialized production have been found within

Additionally, markets can be vital to the integration of political economies by providing the means for converting tribute goods into alternative commodities for use by the state (Hirth 1998, 452). High-value goods can be converted into consumable staples and stored wealth into perishables as the market provides the pivot for the operation of a wealth finance economy (Hirth 1998, 452). An important function of markets may be related to political power. Indeed, apart from the provision of general populations with a wide access to goods, markets 13

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands the households, and examples of separate “workshop”type production locations as defined in Europe have rarely been discovered here (Kovacevich 2013, 257).

Kovacevich 2013, 257; Rochette 2014; Shaw 2012, 121). Research in the Maya Lowlands suggests that nonelites were widely involved in prestige economies: in a number of cases, non-elite specialists appear to have been commissioned for certain prestige products, worked as attached manufacturers for the elite, or were otherwise engaged in the manufacture of sumptuary items (Wells 2006, 272). This undermines the long-held assumption that urban residential populations were mostly peasant farmers, disconnected from the elite economy (Shaw 2012, 121; Wells 2006, 272). Instead, elite and commoner economic spheres may not have been as distinct as has long been assumed.

Craft production frequently took place within the household and varied significantly in degree of specialization and organization (Callaghan and Kovacevich 2020; McAnany 2010). The production of simple chert tools for personal household use, for example, took place in most, if not all, households (Andrieu 2009, 73, 2014). Besides subsistence production, however, residential units also participated in specialized craft production, creating surpluses intended for exchange with others (Andrieu 2013, 22; Costin 2007, 150). Such surplus craft production activities were varied in nature and were performed as part-time and/or intermittent specialization throughout the year (Gonlin 2020, 394; Hirth 2009, 21–22; Inomata and Triadan 2000, 62–63; Webster, Freter, and Gonlin 2000, 87–93). Specialized crafts were performed by different members of the household, were often part of multicrafting strategies wherein different members of the household produced different products, could be highly gendered, or mobilized a diverse family labor force involved in segmented tasks (Callaghan and Kovacevich 2020). Household part-time specialized craft production includes activities such as textile production (Beaudry 2011; Beaudry-Corbett and McCafferty 2002; Chase et al. 2008; Hendon 2006; Sheets 2000, 226), the working of bone and shell materials (Emery and Aoyama 2007; Widmer 2009), and paper production (McAnany 2010, 122–23).

2.1.1.3.2. Distribution and modes of exchange Although much remains unknown about exchange systems in Classic Maya societies, it is clear that several modes of exchange were used and coexisted, depending on factors such as social context and political goals, as well as the types of artifacts, specialization involved, long-distance vs. local goods, etc. (Demarest et al. 2020; Freidel 2020; Masson and Freidel 2012, 457–58; Sheets 2000). The simplest of such exchanges involve horizontal exchange between two individuals or social units ad hoc, outside of formal economic structures or set equivalencies, and were based on economic interdependencies (Andrieu 2013, 23; Feinman and Garraty 2010, 171; Webster, Freter, and Gonlin 2000, 89). Systems of gift-giving and feasting, in particular between rulers and elites of allied polities served as political and social strategies involving another type of horizontal exchange (Ball 1993; Foias 2002, 233–34; Dietler and Hayden 2001; Hayden and Villeneuve 2011; Hirth 1996, 217; Kovacevich 2013, 270; LeCount 2001, 935; Reents-Budet et al. 2000, 111; Shaw 2012, 135). This typically involved high-quality prestige objects, sumptuary goods, ornaments, as well as high-quality and ritualized food and drinks, and the performance of ceremonies. These were reciprocal mechanisms that allowed elites to forge alliances and negotiate power structures, while at the same time reinforcing their own power through outwards displays of wealth and affluence (Dietler and Hayden 2001; Hayden and Villeneuve 2011; Hendon 2003, 205–7; LeCount 2001, 938; McAnany 2010, 132; Rice 2009, 72).

In some cases, however, specialized craft production was organized in a more intensive way, with true specialists performing the production of large quantities and/or highquality artifacts in a full-time or nearly full-time capacity (Andrieu 2013). Such workshops were often located in low-status households or outside of residential zones. They include workshops for the production of, for example, ceramic vessels (Becker 2003; López Varela, McAnany, and Berry 2001), figurines (Halperin et al. 2009), elaborate flint tools (Masson 2001; Shafer and Hester 1983), obsidian artifacts (Webster, Freter, and Gonlin 2000, 91), ground stone artifacts (Ward 2013), greenstone artifacts (Andrieu and Forné 2010; Andrieu, Rodas, and Luin 2014; Kovacevich 2013), etc. Workshops that are located outside of residential zones seem to have been so mainly by necessity, because of necessary proximity to primary materials (clay, flint, etc.), the need to dispose of very large amounts of production refuse, and/or hazardous production processes (such as large scale firing). Otherwise, even highly specialized workshops tend to be associated with the residences of the artisans (Kovacevich 2013, 257).

Tribute would have been a mechanism of hierarchized exchange, where elites were able to obtain goods and services from the general population in exchange for protection, public infrastructure, administration, ceremonial services, continued provision of vital resources, etc. Although the exact nature and quantities of tributes are not well known, their existence is recorded in hieroglyphic texts (see for example Tokovinine and Beliaev 2013) and iconographic representations (see for example McAnany 2013). They may have represented a percentage of harvests, manufactured products, and/or temporary labor for, for example, public infrastructure construction (Sion 2016, 66–67; Webster, Freter, and Gonlin 2000, 186–87). Such mechanisms are based on asymmetrical dependencies between a ruling elite and their subordinates on polity and

Elites were often involved in the crafting of prestige goods (such as shell ornaments, special obsidian artifacts, greenstone objects, polychrome vessels, codices, etc.), but it has recently become clear that this was not exclusively the case: a number of cases have been found where commoners were also involved in the creation of expensive items (Callaghan and Kovacevich 2020, 542; 14

Theory and Methods neighborhood scales. They would have formed a basis for economic inequalities, power structures, as well as legitimation strategies.

were independent and self-sufficient (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 239). Long-distance trade items such as obsidian, salt, and ground stone, then, were not openly available to Maya populations in general, and the longdistance exchange for such items instead formed the basis of elite power (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 239). In recent years, however, more and more evidence has shown that Maya households and settlements were far more differentiated, interrelated, and complex than such a model entails (Freidel 2020; Shaw 2012, 117; Swenson 2021).

Such exchanges tend to occur on a relatively small scale, however, and would not have allowed for the efficient distribution of large amounts of different types of goods and services, meaning other mechanisms were in place to satisfy the demands of growing urban populations, such as market exchange (Masson and Freidel 2012, 457). Markets would have led to higher degrees of economic integration of households at all socio-economic levels, more efficient diffusion of information as well as goods, as well as access to long-distance exchange networks for isolated and secondary centers (Hirth 1998; Scarborough and Valdez, Jr. 2009, 211; Sheets 2000, 228). This would also have allowed for a higher degree of centralized control (through, for example, infrastructure, taxation, administration, price setting, etc.) over the economy than informal horizontal exchange would have done. Ethnohistoric and ethnographic sources show that markets played an important economic role throughout Mesoamerica during pre-Hispanic times (Hirth 1998, 452). They are well established in particular in the Central Mexican highlands, where they provided income for the elites who supervised their operation (Hirth 1998, 452). There, markets were under the supervision of a local ruler who guaranteed the safety of individuals participating in them, regulated quality, price, volumetric measurements, and policed trading practices (Hirth 1998, 452). In return, the ruler was able to levy small taxes on vendors trading in the marketplace (Hirth 1998, 452). Although elites provided administrative supervision, most marketplaces operated independently of direct political control (Hirth 1998, 452).

A related assumption that has long been central in our understanding of Maya economic systems, is that they were predominantly based on feasting and political control of redistribution (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 239; Dahlin 2009, 342; Freidel, Reese-Taylor, and Mora-Marín 2002; Golitko and Feinman 2015, 238). In such a system, control of all or most labor, production, and dominant modes of exchange is concentrated in one authority figure or in elite groups (Dahlin 2009, 342). The elite controlled both spaces of public performance and display, the flow of wealth, trade, and/or the means of production, allowing them to control definitions of value (Dietler and Hayden 2001; Freidel, Reese-Taylor, and Mora-Marín 2002, 41–42; Hayden and Villeneuve 2011). The elite would trade exotic goods among themselves while extracting other goods, mainly staples and daily necessities, from the majority population through taxes and tribute systems in order to maintain themselves and a civic/religious infrastructure that they symbolized (Dahlin 2009, 342). They would then redistribute some of the goods to the lower social strata in payment for fealty, loyal service, and labor (Dahlin 2009, 342; Golitko and Feinman 2015, 238). However, such a model has been called into question, as it seems that, while it may have worked for small settlements focused on a single elite family, such mechanisms would likely have been insufficient to support the needs of large and densely settled areas (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 239; Dahlin 2009, 342).

In the archaeology of the Classic Maya, however, marketplaces and the market economy were largely ignored for many decades, and it is only recently that this topic has received more systematic attention (see for example Becker 2015; Braswell 2010; Chase et al. 2015; D. Chase and A. Chase 2014; Dahlin et al. 2010; Freidel, Masson, and Rich 2017; Hutson 2017a; Hutson, Dahlin, and Mazeau 2010; King 2015, 2020; Masson and Freidel 2012; Masson, Freidel, and Demarest 2020; McAnany 2010; Paris 2021; Ruhl, Dunning, and Carr 2018, 83; Shaw 2012; Wells 2006). Although some archaeologists recognized patterns of market exchange in the archaeological record much earlier (see for example Fry 1969, 1979; Fry and Cox 1974; Rands 1967), for a long time, the general understanding of Maya economic systems was predicated on a model of self-sufficiency, emphasizing household agrarian production for local consumption, ruler dominance over redistribution and long-distance trade, and an absence of markets and market economies (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 239; Dahlin 2009, 356; Golitko and Feinman 2015, 238; King 2020a, 443–46; Shaw 2012, 118). In this conception of Maya society, most families grew their own crops and produced their own basic household items, meaning that markets would not have been necessary because residential units

The highly centralized redistribution that a redistributional model entails would result in a very uneven on-the-ground distribution of artifacts that is not typically reflected in the archaeology of the Classic Maya (Barnhart 2005, 21; D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 239; Dahlin 2009, 352; Graham 2012; Shaw 2012, 138). Instead, market economies are characterized by a more homogeneous distribution of artifacts, especially imported goods, as well as a high diversity of artifacts across the social spectrum (see 2.2.2.2.1 Distributional approach: consumption patterns for a more in-depth discussion of this phenomenon) (Barnhart 2005, 21; D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 240; Dahlin 2009, 352; Graham 2012; Hirth 1998; Shaw 2012, 138). Furthermore, the presence of large urban populations and full-time craft specialization that are found in many Maya centers are sometimes believed to require marketplaces to exist (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 240). Relatively even distributions of products in residential contexts and evidence of differential household craft production found at many Maya sites are also consistent with the existence 15

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands of extensive market economies (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 240; Eppich 2020; Shaw 2012, 138). Furthermore, it can be consistently observed throughout Mesoamerica that rather than being elite-controlled, household production was the main driver of economies (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 245). Most residential households focused on producing surplus craft items for wider exchange, and these items often varied from household to household, neighborhood to neighborhood, or even settlement to settlement (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 245). Thus, a model which is typical for Classic Maya society emerges, although it may not be universal, of urban economies based on surplus household production of crafts and elite-administered market transactions (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 247). Research into market economies from a bottom-up perspective has gained momentum in recent years and yielded considerable advancement in our understanding of Classic Maya society (Dahlin 2009, 343).

the complexity and prevalence of local and long-distance trade (Tokovinine and Beliaev 2013). Linguistic analyses suggest that the terms related to key market activities emerged during the Preclassic period in the Maya Lowlands (Tokovinine and Beliaev 2013, 172). All the essential terms for trade-related activities were already in place by the first millennium CE, indicating that market exchange played a significant role in Classic Maya society (Tokovinine and Beliaev 2013, 172). A strictly top-down conception of Classic Maya economy, with economic systems existing almost exclusively in the service of political power, with common people having a high degree of self-sufficiency in terms of providing for their own basic goods and food, has long dominated research on ancient Maya economies (Dahlin 2009, 343; Wells 2006, 271). The rejection of market economies in favor of such simplistic models was largely based on the perceived prevalence of tumpline modes of transportation and the assumption of a high degree of environmental homogeneity, precluding the need for intra-regional trade in foodstuffs and basic necessities (Dahlin 2009, 343; King 2020a, 446). These notions, however, have been broadly refuted, meaning that a market system would have been both possible and useful for Classic Maya economy. Recent archaeological research has demonstrated that greater complexity and a broader distribution of ancient market systems existed in Classic Maya society than was previously thought, and that simplistic models based on self-sufficiency or feasting and redistribution are not sufficient to explain the wealth of data that has become available (Anaya Hernández et al. 2021; Cap 2021; D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 239–40; Eppich 2020; Golitko and Feinman 2015; King 2020a, 2021; Masson 2021; Shaw 2012, 138; Swenson 2021). This has led to models of market economy becoming more accepted and widespread in our understanding of ancient Maya economies.

In Calakmul, a façade on Structure Sub 1-4 in the North Acropolis depicts a set of images that seem to be related to trade and traders and represents the clearest known depiction of Classic Maya trade (Tokovinine and Beliaev 2013, 181). The images show mostly pairs of individuals, with one seated in front of baskets and ceramic containers and presenting an item, and the other examining or tasting it (Tokovinine and Beliaev 2013, 182). Most sellers thus represented are women wearing wide-brimmed hats, and every seller is associated with a caption that identifies them with their respective products, including atole, tamales, tobacco, maize grains, salt, and serving vessels (Tokovinine and Beliaev 2013, 182). Additionally, images of porters or traders with tumplines are also depicted (Tokovinine and Beliaev 2013, 182). The structure itself is characterized by a number of low and long platforms that could have easily been used as a large permanent market with stalls and galleries (Tokovinine and Beliaev 2013, 181). Furthermore, the layout of the North Acropolis is similar to depictions of markets in early colonial sources and resembles other possible market areas, such as the East Plaza at Tikal (Tokovinine and Beliaev 2013, 181). This supports the presence of market exchange as an important feature in Classic Maya society, and important investments in extensive infrastructure to facilitate it.

Marketplaces, however, have been notoriously difficult to identify within the archaeological record of dispersed Classic Maya settlements (Barnhart 2005, 22; Shaw 2012, 118). While the first archaeological suggestion of a built market environment in an ancient Maya city was the architecturally elaborate and carefully planned complex at Tikal, other examples documented since suggest that the norm for markets was probably much less impressive in terms of architectural infrastructure (Ruhl, Dunning, and Carr 2018, 83). Most typically, markets seem to have consisted of large open plazas and may have occupied a range of spaces and infrastructure, from highly formal places with substantial permanent structures to more ephemeral spaces with more minimal or less formalized infrastructure (Ruhl, Dunning, and Carr 2018, 83).

The existence and prevalence of market exchange in ancient Maya economies is supported by both ethno-historic and linguistic analysis. We know from ethnohistorical sources that by the time of the Spanish conquest intensive trade was a crucial occupation throughout the Yucatan peninsula (Ruhl, Dunning, and Carr 2018, 83; Tokovinine and Beliaev 2013, 169). It was noted that canoes and caravans with salt, cloth, and slaves would leave the peninsula and return with cacao and precious stones, and everything could be bought and sold in the market (Tokovinine and Beliaev 2013, 169). Colonial sources indicate that trade was a prominent concern at all levels of Maya society in the Late Postclassic period (Ruhl, Dunning, and Carr 2018, 83). During this time, Maya languages had rich vocabularies related to different kinds of trade and merchants, reflecting

Not all marketplaces had formally constructed stalls or market features, especially if they were periodic in nature rather than permanent, meaning markets may have left little evidence behind in the archaeological record (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 240; Hirth 1998, 453). The absence of clear market features and assemblages is 16

Theory and Methods often attributed to the repeated cleaning of multipurpose plazas where markets may have existed, thus leaving few archaeological traces (Hirth 1998, 453; Shaw 2012, 118). Even ethnohistorically well-defined markets, such as those at Tenochtitlan, are difficult to identify with certainty in the archaeological record (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 240). This has widely contributed to the assumption that market exchange did not exist, and was indeed not a viable option for the ancient Maya (Shaw 2012, 118). Thus, the existence of Maya marketplaces can often only be surmised from secondary evidence and economic models.

Ancient Maya markets may have provided elites with avenues and opportunities for taxation and economic control, as well as a source of prestige and a sign of power (Cap 2020, 2021; D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 240, 2020). The presence of smaller marketplaces in rural communities, however, indicates that Maya markets were not merely tools benefitting the elite through mechanisms of economic control, taxation, and propaganda (Ruhl, Dunning, and Carr 2018, 84). Although they may have had their origins in elite economic control, as Maya society grew in complexity and population during the Classic period, markets would have become more diverse and widespread, with the number of participants of all social standings increasing (Ruhl, Dunning, and Carr 2018, 84). Marketplaces and market functions can be expected to have operated at multiple scales (Ruhl, Dunning, and Carr 2018, 84). Marketplaces formed a dense network of trading localities, ensuring the continuity of both local and long-distance trade networks, with one study suggesting that markets in southwestern Campeche were separated by 19 km on average, a comfortable day’s walk for traders and customers (Ruhl, Dunning, and Carr 2018, 87). This strongly suggests that the market economy was widespread and firmly established in the region, and it would appear that the success of trade in the area justified the construction of large-scale and widespread permanent infrastructure (Ruhl, Dunning, and Carr 2018, 88).

In some cases, however, it is possible to identify not only the existence of market exchange, but the physical location of marketplaces in the archaeological record. One of the most promising recent techniques for identifying marketplaces in the archaeological context involves the use of chemical signatures in the soil, in particular phosphates (Dahlin 2009; Shaw 2012, 137; Terry, Bair, and Coronel 2015). The spatial distribution of phosphate concentrations tracks the presence and intensity of residues left by organic materials, enabling us to determine long-term patterns (Shaw 2012, 138). High concentrations of phosphates in linear patterns, for example, can reflect the repeated crushing of organic materials as people walked along paths between vendors (Shaw 2012, 138). Additionally, the use of Airborne LiDAR is revolutionizing our understanding of ancient Maya settlements, allowing for the identification of architectural features thus far invisible because of vegetation as well as of unknown structures outside of large settlements. Thus, it enables archaeologists to locate the built structures of possible marketplaces which would not have been detected by simple survey (Ruhl, Dunning, and Carr 2018).

2.1.1.3.3. Long-distance trade Lowland Maya settlements depended on the continued existence of long-distance trade for some essential resources. Research at several Maya centers has indicated that long-distance trade played a key role in regional economies throughout the Classic period, even against a backdrop of shifting political relationships and population movements (Shaw 2012, 126). Large-scale interregional exchanges involved elaborate trade routes and complex political relations between neighboring regions (Braswell 2013, 151).

Although limited, accounts of Maya marketplaces, both in the archaeological record and from ethnohistoric sources, often place them at the center of the settlement, in close relationship to the ceremonial center and/or elite residences (Anaya Hernández et al. 2021; Cap 2020, 2021; Hirth 1998, 453; Ruhl, Dunning, and Carr 2018, 84; Shaw 2012, 128–29). They tended to be located on primary transportation arteries that provided high connectivity with the surrounding hinterland in order to fulfill their role as collection and distribution points for large quantities of commodities (Anaya Hernández et al. 2021; Hirth 1998, 453). While elites did not control the production of utilitarian goods, they may have managed their exchange by providing and controlling suitable plaza space within the built environment (Cap 2020, 2021; Chase and Chase 2020; Shaw 2012, 129). This may indicate that one of the central roles of elites was to oversee scheduling and maintain order in market contexts (Cap 2020, 2021; Shaw 2012, 129). In several cases, however, market locations have also been proposed on site peripheries, further distributing goods over the site, but where direct centralized oversight of market exchange would have been limited (Anaya Hernández et al. 2021; Ruhl, Dunning, and Carr 2018; Shaw 2012, 129).

The inhabitants of the Central Maya Lowlands had to obtain many of their important resources from outside of the region (Braswell 2013, 151). Goods like obsidian, greenstone, feathers, salt, basalt, ground stone, shells, cotton, cacao, and even some types of pottery often had to be imported, pointing at the existence of elaborate trade routes and complex relationships with neighboring regions (Braswell 2013, 151). Both high status and commoner households benefited from long-distance exchange, even when specific resources (such as clay) or equivalents (chert vs. obsidian for example) were present locally (Hutson, Dahlin, and Mazeau 2010, 88; Masson and Freidel 2012; Sheets 2000, 220). Long-distance exchange trade included both utilitarian and prestige objects, and is sometimes linked to legitimation strategies by elites (Demarest 2013a). Coastal trade ports played a crucial role in long-distance trade networks, facilitating the movement of large 17

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands amounts and a great variety of goods over long distances (Andrews and Mock 2002; McKillop 1995; Mock 1997; Shaw 2012). The large amounts of goods documented at many trade port sites include both exotic objects that likely arrived by boat and goods that were produced inland and were transported to the ports to connect to the maritime trade system (Graham and Pendergast 1989; McKillop 1995, 1996, 2004; Shaw 2012, 127). On the mainland, roads linked interior sites to the coast, thus playing a key role in defining the movement of people and commodities, as well as ideologies (Shaw 2012, 126). Inland trade routes linked the vast network of trade stretching from highland Mexico to Guatemala with the Maya Lowland region (Shaw 2012, 127). Major inland polities, such as Chichén Itzá (see Andrews 1983; Cobos 2004; Kepecs 2003) and Chunchucmil (see Dahlin 2003, 2009), have been documented to have retained a level of control over nearby coastal sites and inland route networks as a way of securing essential goods and an advantageous position within trade networks.

trade networks (Demarest 2013b, 24; Grube and Martin 2000, 157). Competition between dominant polities was at least in part related to their control over major trade routes and therefore access to resources (see, for example, Canuto and Barrientos 2013; Demarest et al. 2014, 193; Woodfill and Andrieu 2012). Long-distance trade is often seen as a major source of political and economic power for Classic Maya elites, who are thought to have controlled the process (Hirth 1992; Smith 1976a, 311; Smith 1987, 320). These trade networks would have involved the establishment and maintenance of social relationships between elites of distant urban centers (Hirth 1992; Smith 1987, 320). Additionally, control over vital long-distance resources would have conveyed a great deal of economic and political power to those who held it, while exotic prestige objects were used in legitimation strategies, consolidating these power structures (Demarest 2013a). However, the fact that long-distance exchange networks remained intact after the decline of major powers and city-states in the Maya Lowlands, and in fact continued to develop in regions where dominant dynasties fell and political power structures shifted (Shaw 2012, 126), indicates that they also operated, at least to a degree, independently of elite control, through mechanisms that were resistant to major power changes and political unrest.

Most of the Classic Maya trading centers along the coast, however, did not build fortifications, indicating that protection from raids may not have been much of an issue during the Classic period (Shaw 2012, 126). This may be somewhat surprising, given the known political conflicts that took place throughout the Maya Lowlands (Shaw 2012, 126). It seems that, despite conflicting political interests, long-distance exchange throughout the Maya region was surprisingly consistent and reliable, pointing to the existence of independent market trade, or to a widespread exchange mechanism that was at least to some degree independent from local political institutions. Recent research in the Usumacinta River Valley suggests that hinterland sites indeed were able to maintain their own long distance exchange networks that did not necessarily intersect with that of the regional powers they were politically subordinate to, but were instead centers of production in their own right, pursued their own ambitions, and were able to seek local economic benefits that could diverge from the best interests of those of dynastic centers (Golden et al. 2020). At the time of the Spanish conquest, ports of trade existed that were independent and located in neutral territory; observations from the Maya archaeological record support the idea that this may have been the case during the Classic period as well (Shaw 2012, 128).

2.1.1.3.4. Markers of wealth The ancient Maya expressed their wealth in different ways, the most obvious of which in the archaeological record are domestic artifact assemblages and architecture (Hendon 1991; Palka 1997). These markers of wealth relate to measures of the capacity of social units to accumulate goods (included in the household assemblage, burials, and caches) as well as to leverage labor (for construction), and expansion, which are key indicators of household prosperity (Chase and Chase 1992, 4; Hirth 1992, 18; Smith 2015; Trigger 2003, 541). Domestic artifact assemblages, in particular with regard to the quality, quantity, and diversity of goods, have routinely been used to study and characterize wealth and inequality among Maya households, as well as their activities, specializations, and social integration (Smith 1987, 302). Indeed, a prosperous household group is more likely to obtain larger quantities of assets, of higher quality, and with a higher frequency of replacement than people with access to fewer resources. In particular, highvalue objects, expensive because of their quality, rarity, difficulty of manufacture, exotic nature, and/or high import costs, relate to both household wealth and high degrees of social integration with both local and long-distance contacts (Smith 1987, 320). Mesoamerican archaeologists typically define prestige goods as a set of luxury items, including jade or greenstone, pyrite mirrors, stingray spines, seashells, and decorated pottery (LeCount 1999, 239). The distribution of such items then helps to separate ancient households into distinct socio-economic groups.

The distribution of long-distance trade objects, though they were present throughout the Classic Maya Lowlands, in both central and isolated places, was not uniform, however. The differences are in part explained by fall-of curves, and the physical situation of different cities, with some coastal centers, for example, serving as regional distribution centers (Demarest et al. 2014, 203–4; Hutson, Dahlin, and Mazeau 2010, 87–88). However, such practical processes related to issues of transport do not fully explain the distribution of long-distance exchange goods. Indeed, alliances and political strategies of the rulers of different centers seem to have affected their access to long-distance 18

Theory and Methods The acquisition of exotic materials and participation in long-distance exchange seem to have been particularly important for the rich and powerful of Maya society. Indeed, the control of long-distance trade networks seems to have been part of the basis of power of many Maya elites, who were able to oversee the distribution of rare essential and valued objects (Hirth 1992; Smith 1987, 320, 2015, 5–6). The capacity of wealthy members of society to own such expensive items in relatively large quantities (or, in some cases, at all) would have served as a clear marker of wealth and status, because they signal the ability to obtain costly items as well as relationships with foreign contacts (Hirth 1992, 19; Rochette 2014, 167). This may include (depending on the location and access to trade routes of the community in question) objects such as greenstone ornaments, Central Mexican obsidian, exotic feathers, shell ornaments, foreign types of high-quality ceramics, cacao, cotton textiles, etc. (Hirth 1992, 19–20; LeCount 1999, 239–41; McAnany 2013, 239–41). Furthermore, besides being a sign of wealth and disposable income, such objects also signal their owners’ political and economic connections with faraway places, further consolidating and legitimizing their power (Hirth 1992; Hutson, Dahlin, and Mazeau 2010; Smith 2015, 5).

be restricted (Gonlin 2020, 394; Shaw 2012, 121). For example, while little is known about Maya ceramic production, as very little evidence for the activity has been found, it is usually assumed that there would have been two different production systems: one for utilitarian ceramics, and another, supposedly controlled by the elite, that produced high-quality polychromes and codex-style vessels (Ball 1993; Kovacevich 2013, 270; Potter and King 1995; Reents-Budet et al. 2000, 111; Shaw 2012, 135). The sparse evidence for the production of elaborate polychromes, for example, includes palace workshops in Aguateca (Inomata 2001a, 2001b; Inomata et al. 2001) and Motul de San José (Halperin and Foias 2010, 2012), where the ruling families seem to have been personally involved in the production of these elite goods, but not of utilitarian ceramics. The two proposed production systems would have been characterized by different modes of exchange, with gift-giving and tribute accounting for the distribution of the fancier ceramics, while utilitarian wares would have been distributed through marketplace exchange (Shaw 2012, 135). Similarly, it has often been argued that greenstone production and exchange were under the exclusive control of elites (Aoyama 2007; Inomata 2001b, 321). While obsidian was widely distributed throughout ancient Maya society, it seems that the exchange and production of more exotic Central Mexican obsidian, green obsidian from the Pachuca source in particular, as it represented a connection with Teotihuacan, was generally under the control of elites (Martin 2001b; Moholy-Nagy 1999, 307). Thus, it is often argued that there was a separation between the production and exchange of, on the one hand, high-value, prestige, and elite objects characterized by a high level of control and gift exchanges, and on the other that of utilitarian, everyday objects.

An important function of high-value objects in wealthy and powerful households was the outward display of wealth and socio-political connections as well as the legitimation of power. This is the case in particular for non-utilitarian artifacts such as jade (Andrieu, Rodas, and Luin 2014; Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018; Rochette 2014) and polychrome ceramics (LeCount 1999; ReentsBudet 1998; Reents-Budet et al. 2000). Such objects, through their exchange (either symmetrical or nonsymmetrical) and redistribution, forge and reinforce ties of dependency and cooperation (Hirth 1992; LeCount 1999). Feasting and rituals often accompanied, and were a part of, such strategies, showcasing wealth and reinforcing social ties and power (Dietler and Hayden 2001; Hayden and Villeneuve 2011; Hirth 1992, 26). Elitism and power in Maya society were often expressed through cultural markers as well, including through the use of specific iconography, exclusive symbols, and writing, further reinforcing visual markers of status and wealth (Inomata 2001b, 323–24; Webster, Freter, and Gonlin 2000, 56). While the mere presence of such prestige objects and references may not be a direct indicator of wealth, their differential distribution between households is (LeCount 1999, 253; Palka 1997, 299). In particular, their accumulation in special contexts, such as burials and caches, held strong social and ideological meanings directly related to identity and power (Arnauld, Michelet, and Nondédéo 2013, 471–72; Fitzsimmons 2009; Joyce and Gillespie 2000; Lemonnier 2009, 89; McAnany 1995).

In Classic Maya centers the concentration of high value and exotic goods in elite contexts is often explained by the prevalence of gift-giving of sumptuary goods between elites as a way of forging and maintaining alliances, as well as to legitimize power and wealth by excluding non-elites from accessing such exchanges (Ball 1993; Kovacevich 2013, 270; Moholy-Nagy 1999, 307; ReentsBudet et al. 2000, 111; Shaw 2012, 135). However, a pattern can usually be identified showing that while highvalue and exotic goods are concentrated in elite contexts, they are not restricted to them, indicating that specialists had at least some control over their production, being able to make goods for personal exchange in a market, and not exclusively as commissioned by elites (Shaw 2012, 121). Low-status households seem to have participated in both local and regional trade, as well as in the trade and production of high-value artifacts, and the long assumed disconnect between elite and commoner economies, production systems, and spheres of exchange may not be as strong or universal as it has long been assumed (Freidel, Reese-Taylor, and Mora-Marín 2002; Hutson 2017b, 309; Inomata 2001b, 321; Kovacevich 2013; Martin 2001a, 177–78; Rochette 2009, 205; Shaw 2012, 121; Wells 2006, 272).

Specialization of the creation of elite goods took place mostly in elite households and palaces, where the necessary knowledge (for example about writing, complex production techniques, and ceremonial knowledge) could 19

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands 2.1.1.3.5. Elites and commoners

(Demarest 2013b, 38) indicates that they were not entirely independent, and relied on the ruler to a degree.

Distinctions between elites and commoners in Classic Maya society are typically based mainly on economic criteria, with clear differences existing between wealthy and poor classes based on their household architecture, assemblages, and burials. The socio-political roles, classifications, and relationships that are associated with these different levels of wealth, however, are much more difficult to define. While information about rulers and dynasties is available from the hieroglyphic inscriptions they left behind, the relationships between members of ruling dynasties, other classes of nobility, and commoners are much more obscure (Inomata and Houston 2001).

Noble houses tended to administer, protect, and oversee subordinate, related, and/or associated families. This process not only reinforced the social and political status of the noble house through their contribution of goods and resources, as well as labor force, it also created strong hierarchical ties between groups of different socioeconomic status through asymmetrical dependencies (Hendon 2009; Lemonnier 2009, 88–89). The common identity of the different members and dependents of such noble houses was most likely supported and reinforced through ancestor veneration (McAnany 1995), underlining the importance of the central dominant lineage. This is evidenced by the commonly high degree of centrality of the dominant household with regard to its dependents, where the burial site of a “founder” of the household was often located, linking their descendants (whether real or fictitious) to this central place (Arnauld, Michelet, and Nondédéo 2013, 471–72; Gillespie 2000b, 475–76; Lemonnier 2009, 89). This ancestor veneration also allowed to reinforce social differences between the different members of the house and legitimize the authority and power of the dominant lineage, which would have consisted of the direct descendants of the founding ancestor (Carmean, McAnany, and Sabloff 2011, 155; Lemonnier 2009, 89–93; McAnany 1995). This local power was thus permanently tied to the territory through the presence of its ancestors (Houston and Stuart 2001, 57; Lemonnier 2009). Thus, at a lower level, Classic Maya society was often organized around the existence of internally hierarchical residential groups consisting of related families, which functioned on principles of asymmetric dependencies, co-residence, kinship (real or fictional), and the collective exploitation of land and resources (Lemonnier 2009, 93–94).

Representations and writing on polychrome vessels clearly show that important nobles frequently interacted with rulers (Houston and Stuart 1996, 2001). Such interactions would have involved important opportunities for these nobles to reassert their prestige and authority, as well as for access to foreign nobles and diplomats, allowing for the forging of connections and alliances (Inomata 2001a, 34). While assisting the king, noble families would have aimed to serve their own interests and goals, and were perpetually engaged in negotiations of power with other noble families as well as with the ruling dynasty (Inomata 2001a; Inomata and Houston 2001, 12; Ringle and Bey 2001, 266–67). They strengthened their influence not only by using their wealth, land ownership, access to resources, and tributes, but also by exploiting their social networks of clients, subordinates, and personal connections (Inomata 2001a, 34; Lemonnier 2012; Webster, Freter, and Gonlin 2000, 185). The development of noble households can be seen, then, like that of secondary courts, organized on the model of royal households in terms of architecture, assemblages, and function, and differing from them mainly in size, absence of inscriptions, and direct political-ceremonial links with public ceremonial centers (Inomata and Houston 2001, 7; Webster 2001, 153).

Political systems in the Maya Lowlands have often been explained following managerial models, with a managerial hierarchy to coordinate labor, trade, and redistribution among large urban populations (Grube and Martin 2000; Wells 2006, 270). In agrarian societies, where the bulk of the population is engaged in food production, the basis for stratification is usually the control over some critical resource by select members of society (Smith 1976a, 311). This means that to be sustained, the stratification system is institutionalized by a system of exchanges in which the elite control the critical nodes or means of exchange (Smith 1976a, 311). In the case of the Classic Lowland Maya, because water can be difficult to access and often requires significant management to be kept available year-round, it is sometimes argued that the elite controlled and managed reservoirs, canals, and associated subsistence resources, securing their power because the population is dependent on this resource (Wells 2006, 270). Alternatively, control over long-distance exchange is often proposed as a source of power for elites (Hirth 1992; Smith 1976a, 311; Smith 1987, 320). Another possibility is that, through territorial claims, the elite controlled access to and use of agricultural lands, conveying a high

Noble groups, following the model of royal dynasties, were most probably based on a central lineage, the power of which was defined by the interplay between their relationship with the royal family on the one hand, and the relationships with their subordinates, kin, and non-noble dependents and clients on the other (Arnauld, Michelet, and Nondédéo 2013; Gillespie 2000b; Lemonnier 2009; Watanabe 2004). While such houses may have been organized around a central lineage, they do not necessarily correspond to a single family, instead boasting a number of complex familial and extra-familial relationships, and are likely to have included more than one lineage, with both endogamous and exogamous marriages allowing for stability and growth (Arnauld, Michelet, and Nondédéo 2013; Gillespie 2000b; Lemonnier 2009, 90). The degree of integration and autonomy of such noble groups with and from the royal dynasty varies considerably, but the fact that these noble lineages seem to have rarely survived in a recognizable form after the fall of their ruling dynasties 20

Theory and Methods degree of social, economic, and political influence to these elites, who were also able to attract other social groups and enlarge their community and power (Arnauld et al. 2014; Lemonnier 2009, 93–94). Regardless of the source of their power, however, stable stratified societies must, by definition, always have a regular exchange between subsistence-producer commoners and non-subsistenceproducer elite because the latter must eat and the former must be guaranteed a minimum survival amount of the scarce resource that empowers the elite (Smith 1976a, 311). Such models view elites as managers of scarce and crucial resources who strategically exploit their positions to build and maintain their political power (Wells 2006, 270). Thus, the power of the ruling class would have been based largely on their appropriation of labor and the products of collective resource management: power was inextricably tied to economic matters (Foias and Emery 2012b; Graham 2012, 419; Wells 2006, 270).

Moholy-Nagy 1992). However, it seems that such a clear dichotomy is not always applicable, and the internal hierarchies of Maya centers were often more variable and complex than previously thought. This simplistic model with an absolute dichotomy was largely based on simplistic descriptions written by Spanish conquerors who were not concerned with the description of complex hierarchical processes (Jackson 2005, 32). Instead, hierarchies based on occupation, rather than merely legal rank, have been proposed for some Maya polities (Chase and Chase 1992, 11–14). Additionally, some argue for the existence of a middle class, in particular during the Late Classic period, that would have formed a socio-economic layer between nobility and commoners, with distinct characteristics (Chase 1992; Chase and Chase 1996a). While specific titles are known for Classic Maya nobility, there seems to have been no explicit label for nobility as a social or legal category (Houston and Inomata 2009, 44). Apart from the ruling nobility, for which there is ample epigraphic evidence, it is unclear how the Classic Maya defined lower nobility classes, and whether such classes formally existed (Houston and Inomata 2009, 45). We do know that genealogy and ancestry were important for nobility and their claims to power, but it is unclear to what degree a “noble birth” alone would have determined a person’s socio-political status (Houston and Inomata 2009, 45). Furthermore, it is possible (and probable) that non-noble people would have been able, through land inheritance and economic investment, to accumulate wealth to the point that they were as rich as or richer than elites of noble origins, blurring their distinction in the archaeological record (Houston and Inomata 2009, 45). Almost nothing is known about the porosity between noble and non-noble statuses, nor is it known to what degree intermarrying was accepted (Houston and Inomata 2009, 45). A person’s status was probably a complex intersectional phenomenon relating to kin relations, life experiences, rights, rank, gender, age, etc., the importance of which varied across the Maya region according to local circumstances (Houston and Inomata 2009, 45).

While scholars generally agree that the royal family and high elites governed a society comprising social classes such as priests, scribes, artisans, farmers, merchants, warriors, servants, and slaves, there is still much debate on whether Classic Maya society was two-tiered (elite/commoner), three-tiered (with an emerging middle class), or a continuum (Foias 2013; Hutson 2020a; Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 366). Furthermore, discussions on the segmentary vs. centralized, collective vs. autocratic, as well as on the hierarchical vs. heterarchical nature of Classic Maya political organization are still ongoing (Demarest et al. 2020; Foias 2013; Fox et al. 1996; Freidel 2020; King 2020b; Marcus 1993, 1998a; Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 366). Overall, Classic Maya societies are often seen as highly integrated and tightly controlled political economies (Chase and Chase 1996a; Folan et al. 1995; Folan, Kintz, and Fletcher 1983; Haviland 1970; Kurjack 1974). These are characterized by centralized, bureaucratic organization, and the formation of regional states. However, while this model applies to many Classic Maya polities, it is not universally applicable, and there is variation through time, space, historical developments, and depending on scale (Demarest 1996, 824; Foias 2013). Maya political structures were dynamic, including both centralizing and decentralizing processes subsequently and simultaneously at various scales and over time as polities political strategies changed and alliances and economic networks shifted (Foias 2013; Marcus 1993, 1998a). Classic Maya political structures varied in form throughout the Lowlands, however, with each urban center having its own political history, particularities, and strategies (Chase and Chase 2004, 145; Demarest 1996, 821; Demarest et al 2020; Freidel 2020; Foias 2013; Hutson 2020a; King 2020b; Marcus 1993, 1998a).

In most ancient Maya contexts, the link between nobility and high levels of wealth is well documented, and the basis of socio-political power of Classic Maya elites is typically seen as economic in nature, through mechanisms such as control over crucial economic resources, longdistance exchange, taxation, territorial claims, etc. (Arnauld et al. 2014; Gonlin 2020; Hirth 1992; Lemonnier 2009, 93–94; Smith 1976a, 311; Smith 1987, 320; Wells 2006, 270). However, in some cases, this link is not as clear. At the site of El Palmar, Yucatán, for example, it was observed that non-royal elites who had clear political privilege (as attested by hieroglyphic inscriptions) had limited access to wealth in terms of high-quality exchange goods (Tsukamoto 2020). This further complicates the archaeological distinction between Classic Maya elites and commoners, as legal socio-political distinctions may not always be directly reflected in economic patterns, and the separation between non-royal elites and wealthy

For a long time, it was thought that Classic Maya society was highly hierarchized, with a clear separation between the elite and commoners in terms of legal status, rights and duties, occupation, social status, access to resources, and power (Chase and Chase 1992, 8–10; Haviland and 21

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands commoners may become blurred in the archaeological record.

2020, 389; Wilk and Rathje 1982, 618). It is the primary anchor of its inhabitants in their environment, meaning that it is their operating base that provides shelter and concealment, the place from which most people undertake activities, explore and experience the world, and where they return (Coolen and Meesters 2012, 2). It is an expression of its inhabitants: their economy, worldviews, religion and ideology, political connections, cultural practices, memory of place, and social relations (Gonlin 2020, 389). The household is composed of three elements, following the definition proposed by Wilk and Rathje (1982, 618): a social component, a material component, and a behavioral component.

Overall, beyond the identification of the ruler and their household, distinctions between socio-economic classes are difficult to make in the Maya area, and their configuration may have had as many variations as there were polities. Furthermore, any distinction between social or legal classes may not be reflected in their archaeology, since class, wealth, social integration, occupation, and political power, while often connected and correlated, are not necessarily clearly associated with each other. Neither elites nor commoners formed static homogenous layers of society, with variation within a socio-economic class sometimes being as great as between classes (Houston and Stuart 2001, 57), and under specific circumstances changes of status can occur (Inomata 2001a, 36–39; Jackson 2005, 42–43; Sion 2016, 66; Webster, Freter, and Gonlin 2000, 56–57). This also means that differences in socio-economic position are difficult to recognize because they are complex, multidimensional, and intersectional, and not easily reduced to single rigid classes (Jackson 2005, 27; Sion 2016, 65).

The social component of the household denotes its members and their mutual relationships (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 618). Defining which people are members of any given household is not always self-evident, however. Here, the social component is limited to the people who live in, organize their lives around, or systematically occupy and use the material components of the household. The members of the household thus form a group of individuals who share both a residential space and sets of activities centered around common day-to-day necessities (Foster and Parker 2012, 2). They live as distinct social units that are recognized within their society, and their relationships are conceptualized through kinship, economy, ritual, or any other aspect of human engagement that ties the group together (Foster and Parker 2012, 5). Indeed, the household often does not correspond to only a nuclear family, but can be multigenerational and include inhabitants who are not kin, such as servants, slaves, apprentices, boarders, etc. (Beaudry 2015, 2). The relationships between the members of a household are an important aspect, as they play a paramount role in the organization of the household, and are very much linked to its function and characterization (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 621).

2.1.2. Household Household archaeology is a diffuse disciplinary field that generally lacks unified definitions, theoretical underpinnings, or methodological techniques (Foster and Parker 2012, 8). While this may appear as a shortcoming of the field, this diversity can also be seen as a reflection of the very essence of houses and households as dynamic, fluid, and adaptable entities (Buchli 2010, 515; Foster and Parker 2012, 8). Because there is no one widely accepted definition of what a household is or does, it is essential here to define the terms used in this book, so as to explicitly make clear what is meant when terms like household or house are used. The household is often defined as a group of people living under a single roof and cooperating economically on a daily basis (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 620). This definition, however, does not work cross-culturally: there are many societies where multiple groups living under a single roof (the dwelling unit) constitute separate household units because their members never cooperate in any kind of economic activity, and live separate daily lives; conversely, there are cases where the household occupies several adjacent buildings, but in all other activities acts as a single economic and social unit (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 620). If we are interested in economic and ecological relations and groups, we must therefore separate the concepts of co-residence (dwelling units) on the one hand, and socio-economic cooperation (households) on the other (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 620). The household is here then considered to be an economic and social unit with shared goals and daily lives.

The material component of the household comprises the house, activity areas, secondary structures, and all material possessions of the members of the household (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 618). The house, or dwelling, itself is here defined as the built structure(s) that play(s) a central role in the household (Foster and Parker 2012, 4). This includes the built structure(s) in which the members of the household sleep, eat, store, receive, etc. So an independent building that is used, for example, as a kitchen or storage area is considered to be part of the house at the same title as a building in which people sleep. The dwelling is thus defined as the built environment of the household, the ‘bricks and mortar’, which anchors the physical space within which members of the household perform their daily tasks (Buchli 2010, 503; Coolen and Meesters 2012, 2; Parker 2012, 291). The dwelling can be located within a wider area where household activities take place, not all of which is necessarily indoors or physically marked. While the household area thus created is not always clearly delineated (with regard to the limits between one household area and the next or between the household area and public space), features such as storage pits, burials,

The household is here defined as the most common social component of subsistence, the smallest and most abundant social or economic unit save for the individual (Gonlin 22

Theory and Methods ovens, activity areas, land use, or household possessions can help define those limits. The material component of the household is the physical locality, including all objects and structures, that the members of the household occupy or use and where the behavioral component takes place.

approaches to the study of archaeological households have developed (Beaudry 2015, 1–2). The study of households typically focuses on themes of production, consumption, power, social differentiation, and inequality (Beaudry 2015, 2). By studying the household, we learn not only about daily practice and everyday life, which in itself is valuable, but more significantly we gain deeper understandings of wider socio-economic trends and processes and of the interplay between individual and communal concerns, practices, and interests within a society or community (Beaudry 2015; Foster and Parker 2012, 4; Matthews 2012, 560).

The behavioral component of the household consists of the activities that the members of the household perform within the material setting of the household (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 618). The places where the activities associated with the household take place can contribute to defining the boundaries of the physical locality of the household. The behavioral component is thus defined by the activities that occur in and directly around the house or features associated with the dwelling.

Household size, form, and organization vary widely in time and space, and the differences between them can systematically be related to the kinds of functions the household performs as well as to their sociocultural environment (Foster and Parker 2012, 2; Wilk and Rathje 1982, 621). These functions are a product of a society’s mode of production and distribution, as well as a strategy for meeting diverse functional requirements, and this strategy reflects choices made about how to allocate resources (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 631). The most important functions of a household are typically production (human activity that procures resources or increases their value), distribution (the process of moving resources from producers to consumers), consumption (of resources and products), transmission (the transferring of rights, roles, land, and property between generations), and reproduction (the rearing and socializing of children) (Wilk and Rathje 1982). Other social units, such as lineages, task-groups, corporations, neighborhoods, etc., often have functions that complement, replace, or compete with the household (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 621). A focal point in the study of households is therefore defining the sphere of household function, and mapping its relationships to the functional spheres of other social groups within society (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 621).

The exact boundaries of the social component, physical locality, and activities that constitute a household can become blurred, and the exact limits of the household have to be defined on a case by case basis, as they are to be understood within their social, cultural, and economic context (Buchli 2010, 515; Matthews 2012, 559–60). In general, however, the household can be defined by the social, material, and behavioral components that are centered and organized around a built environment, the dwelling (Parker 2012, 291; Wilk and Rathje 1982). It is the material component of the household that can be studied archaeologically and is used to infer the organization and nature of the social and behavioral components that were connected to the household. 2.1.2.1. Household archaeology Households are the basic socio-economic unit of any sedentary society (Foster and Parker 2012, 4). It is within the household that basic needs are met, social roles are defined, and worldviews are formed (Buchli 2010, 502; Wilk and Rathje 1982). Households are loci of repetitive actions where personal identities and economic, social, and ideological interests of family or co-habitant groups intersect with and shape the trajectory of communities, conditioning community participation in broader social processes (Foster and Parker 2012, 4; Parker 2012, 291). The household is where identities at the individual and communal level are generated and negotiated, and where multiple overlapping and intersecting identities meet and contend with each other (Matthews 2012, 564). It is profoundly implicated in notions of personhood, society, and cosmology (Buchli 2010, 503). Our homes reflect who we are, the ways we are the same, and the ways in which we differ (Moore 2012, 147). In short, the home is where the most fundamental aspects of social structure emerge and are experienced (Buchli 2010).

Households are the level at which social groups articulate directly with economic, cultural, and ecological processes (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 618). They aren’t static entities, but rather dynamic processes within wider social environments, whose structure is affected by many interlocking factors (Buchli 2010, 515; Foster and Parker 2012, 1). Every household can be seen as the product of a mix of strategies to meet the productive, distributive, and reproductive needs of its members (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 633). These strategies and the archaeological record they leave behind, cannot, however, be studied outside of their wider social and cultural context (Matthews 2012, 561). While we cannot directly interpret household organization from material remains in a simple manner, it is clear that environment, household demography, organization, and activities are systematically linked together with material culture (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 637).

Archaeologists around the world consider the archaeology of households to be at the heart of archaeology and our understanding of ancient human behavior (Beaudry 2015, 1; Hendon 2004, 272). Since the term “household archaeology” was popularized by Wilk and Rathje (1982) the sub-field has become widespread and a variety of

2.1.2.2. Maya households According to archaeological, ethnographical, and ethnohistorical data, the patio group represents the basic 23

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands social and residential unit in Late Classic Maya Lowlands communities: they represent the extended family that is considered to correspond to the Maya household (Ashmore 1981; Flannery 1976b; Garrison 2020, 250; Gonlin 2020, 390; Haviland 1988; Lemonnier 2012, 181; Manzanilla 1986; Tourtellot, III 1983; Wilk 1988, 142). Most residential units, from the royal palaces to the humblest commoner households, shared this template, with structures organized around a square patio, often built on top of a basal platform (Garrison 2020, 250; Gonlin 2020, 390; Houston and Inomata 2009, 27). Besides the dwellings where residents slept, worked, and socialized, the patio group typically included storehouses, kitchens, and shrines (Gonlin 2020, 392). The patio itself was the locus of many household activities and performance and formed the central spatial component of household life. These households correspond to co-resident extended family groups that formed the basic social units of society (Haviland 1988; Wilk and Ashmore 1988). They correspond not only to social units, but also to economic ones, forming the basis of systems of production, exchange, and consumption (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014; Garrison 2020, 250; Hendon 1996; Sheets 2000, 228).

case, and the separation between household area and public space is not always archaeologically clear, especially in the absence of large basal platforms. Structures themselves may have been made of stone or perishable materials. Perishable structures typically had a stone base on which walls of adobe or wattle-and-daub were erected, with a thatched roof (Barnard 2016; Garrison 2020, 250). Such structures, while relatively easy, quick, and cheap to make, would have needed constant repair throughout their use-life, and their materials needed to be replaced every few years in a process of complete destruction and rebuilding (Barnard 2016). Masonry structures, on the other hand, would have been much more expensive and time-consuming to build, but also more durable and in less need of frequent renovation. Many masonry structures had simple walls and a thatched roof. In some cases, elites would build monumental residential structures, with massive stone walls supporting a stone corbel-vaulted roof. Such structures would have been both the most durable, with little need for renewal of materials, and the costliest to construct, while also being impressive expressions of power and wealth. Additionally, many households contained a ceremonial area in the form of an altar, shrine, or structure (sometimes with a pyramidal base).

Ethnohistorical evidence suggests that important households often had substantial administrative functions, including the mobilization of goods and services in fulfillment of taxation and tribute demands (McAnany and Plank 2001, 89). This means that certain members of these households were directly involved in the supply side of the political economy, and were responsible for exchange relationships and coordination with individuals external to the household (McAnany and Plank 2001, 89). Furthermore, residential complexes provided stages for political negotiations, social networking, diplomatic meetings, feasts, and gatherings for kin and local groups (Houston and Inomata 2009, 27). Households were not merely intimate private spaces for the family, but also served as the locus of important political, social, and productive activities.

It has been argued, mainly on the basis of iconography, that the concerns of Maya royal courts centered on tribute collection, royal accession, ritual sacrifice, and victory in warfare (McAnany and Plank 2001, 86). These goals seem far removed from the concerns of typical households. Royal courts are organized around a ruler, and consist of a variety of people presumably including family as well as servants, assistants, guards, artisans, advisers, and administrators (McAnany and Plank 2001, 86). While royal courts are inherently political entities, households, in contrast, are generally composed of kin and, depending on the level of affluence, may also contain servants and artisans (McAnany and Plank 2001, 86). While some of the purposes of Maya royal courts and other households may have differed, however, they tended to be very similar from an architectural perspective. Maya palaces bear a resemblance to the large, extended family residential compounds of the Classic period, with long rectangular buildings often facing an open courtyard and sometimes, though not always, incorporating a shrine structure on their eastern or northern side (McAnany and Plank 2001, 86).

There were probably many possible different social compositions of households (Houston and Inomata 2009, 49). Ethnohistoric sources suggest that the Maya usually occupied households as extended families, including several generations (Houston and Inomata 2009, 49; Restall 1995, 357). However, not all members of the household needed to be related by family ties, and could also include servants, laborers, or simply individuals who shared activities, including consumption, production, and the pooling of resources (Houston and Inomata 2009, 49). Households and their members are corporate entities, which may or may not correspond to real or fictive kinship ties (Gillespie 2000a; Houston and Inomata 2009, 50), but are tied together by common goals and daily lives.

Life at court exhibited key similarities to normal household life, but differed from it in some fundamental ways (McAnany and Plank 2001, 91). For example, claims to divinity for royal leaders would have engendered ritual performances, such as deity impersonation, that have not been documented at the household level (McAnany and Plank 2001, 91). Defining roles of Maya courts included diplomacy, adjudication, and various forms of recordkeeping that included writing and painting (Inomata and Houston 2001; McAnany and Plank 2001, 91). The royal court, however, was both a domestic and a political sphere, combining practices related to the exercise of power, such as administrative, judicial, diplomatic, and ceremonial

Residential structures were often built on top of basal platforms, elevating the household above the surrounding area and delineating its activity areas. In some cases, patio areas may have been delineated by fencing, walls, or vegetation, although this may not always have been the 24

Theory and Methods delimitation. The term ‘state’ as well is problematic, as its definition is arguably just as unclear and arbitrary as that of the ‘city’ (Smith 2003, 8–9). Other definitions of a ‘city’ focus on the sheer size of the population. For example, Bintliff (1999) states that agglomerations of many people offer special advantages that differentiate them from smaller settlements. An agglomeration of 2000 or more people, for example, could therefore be called a city (Bintliff 1999, 533). This definition is problematic at best, as not only is the number of people inhabiting a city difficult to unambiguously determine for ancient cities, it also can’t be simply correlated with, for example, social or political organization. There are, of course, many more definitions, having to do with factors such as the organization of the city and the hinterland, the state of mind (‘mechanical solidarity’ versus ‘organic solidarity’) of the inhabitants (Durkheim 1893; Wirth 1938), the cityplan and ‘urban zoning’ (Burgess 1925), etc., but none of these are less arbitrary or more complete than the definitions already given.

duties, as well as residential ones (Inomata and Houston 2001). A distinction for these complex spaces between private and public, then, is difficult to make, and the concepts may not have been directly applicable. 2.1.3. City and urbanism Because of the gliding scales of possible settlement size and organization, there is no simple and universal definition for the terms “city” or “urban environment”. Lines drawn between what constitutes a city and “nonurban settlements” (towns, villages, hamlets, camps, etc.) are inherently arbitrary. Additionally, cultural distinctions between types of settlements may not always correspond directly to quantifiable or measurable characteristics (see for example the concept of city/town rights in the Low Countries used until the 16th century for distinguishing between which settlements are legally considered cities/ towns, thus obtaining specific legal rights and privileges associated with that status: these are still recognized today independently of that settlement’s subsequent development, leading to, for example, Staverden in the Netherlands officially being recognized as a city/town despite counting only 30 inhabitants, while much larger municipalities, such as Almere with about 200,000 inhabitants, still have the legal status of a “village”). This means that local cultural conceptions of what constitutes a city may not be recognizable in the archaeological record without explicit textual sources on the subject.

To complicate matters further, definitions of cities are often based on the present and recent past and geographically restricted to higher latitudes (Graham and Isendahl 2018, 165). However, scholars working on ancient cities in tropical and sub-tropical regions have contributed significant data on cities and urbanism which significantly expand the frame of reference for comparative models and for understanding what a city is (see for example A. Chase and D. Chase 2016; Fletcher 2009, 2011; Graham 1996, 1999; Graham and Isendahl 2018; Isendahl 2012; Isendahl and Smith 2013; Marcus 1983; Smith 1989, 2010). The concept of “low-density, agrarian-based urbanism” has thus been successfully applied to ancient cities in the Maya Lowlands, as well as in Sri Lanka and mainland Southeast Asia (Fletcher 2009, 2; Graham and Isendahl 2018, 165). This concept allows for the recognition that, while tropical and sub-tropical urban environments often differ from more traditional definitions of the city in that they tend to be less densely populated, more spread out over the landscape, and have a higher degree of integration of agriculture and horticulture within the city limits rather than food production being exclusive to “rural” spaces, they still fulfill many of the same functions as non-tropical cities, and that models of urbanism can therefore usefully be applied to them.

Attempts to develop useful archaeological definitions of the concept of “city” are further hindered by the fact that cities in different parts of the world can have very different characteristics. Ancient cities in the Americas, in particular, often have marked differences in layout, functions, population, density, etc., compared to urban centers in the rest of the world, meaning that most definitions will either exclude settlements that are generally considered to be cities or, on the contrary, include settlements that we don’t consider to have been urbanized environments. In archaeology, Gordon Childe’s (1950) list of ten criteria that define a city has often served as a basis for the definition of cities, though most urban archaeologists agree that a place does not need to fulfill all ten of these criteria at once in order to be considered a city: • Large population and large settlement • Fulltime specialists and division of labor • Production of agricultural surpluses in the hinterland that feed the urban society of non-farmers • Monumental public architecture • A ruling class • Administration • Exact and predictive sciences • High art • Long-distance trade • The existence of a state

Throughout this research project, the settlement of Uxul is referred to as a city or urban center. While the definition of what constitutes a city is complex and there are many different ways to define the term, some of which would exclude Uxul from the category, the definition chosen here is a functional one. Following Smith (2010, 138) urban settlements are here considered to be places that serve as the setting for institutions and practices that affect a larger, regional hinterland. The city is dependent on the hinterland, meaning that its needs shape the organization of the hinterland, while the hinterland tends to show its urban ties through material goods and architectural styles (Smith 2003, 10). Such a definition is broader than more

Most of these characteristics, such as ‘large population’ or ‘high art’, are problematic as they have no clear 25

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands commonly used demographic definitions that focus on population size, density, and social complexity. It focuses instead on the function, role, and organization of a settlement, rather than on arbitrary distinctions between “large” and “small”. This definition permits the inclusion of, and therefore comparison with, extensive low-density settlements with monumental architecture such as the Classic Maya or the Khmer political capitals (Smith 2010, 138), which share many attributes with high-density cities (such as the existence of neighborhoods), but differ from them in other ways.

be a vehicle for and an agent of cultural construction, reproduction, and the transmission of ideas (Moore 2005; Richards-Rissetto 2010, 8). In the case of the Maya, this means that it is imperative to take into account the fact that the natural environment was integral to the urban landscape, and worked in concert with the built environment to contribute to the construction of complexly ordered communities (Richards-Rissetto 2010, 8). The ancient Maya built their cities in such a way that access and visibility were controlled, and served as mechanisms of social integration and/or segregation (Richards-Rissetto 2010, 11). Sacbeob were used to channel people into large open plazas, presumably for public ritual events, and temples and palaces were built to create visual impressions of sanctity and power (Richards-Rissetto 2010, 11; Webster 1998, 40). Plazas, where public events were performed, served to assemble large numbers of commoners in one place, contributing to social cohesion, while at the same time the person performing rituals on an elevated temple was visually separated and elevated above the “normal” people as the only person with the power to interact with the supernatural realm (Richards-Rissetto 2010, 13). The way the city was organized could thus serve to create a sense of community and shared identity that helped maintain social cohesion between commoners and the elite, while at the same time visually replicating and legitimizing relationships of power and social inequalities. Large amounts of labor and resources were invested to accomplish such organizations of the urban landscape, physically reproducing the social order.

The goal of the present research is not, however, to determine or prove whether the settlement of Uxul should be considered a city. Although this point can be debated, it is assumed, and generally accepted, that ancient Maya settlements of similar size are urban centers, though secondary ones (Grube et al. 2012), and should be studied as such. By defining Uxul as an urban center, it can be placed within the analytical framework of the city as a functional concept as defined above. This allows for comparison with other urban centers, as they are assumed to have had similar functions and roles in the wider regional environment. Defining Uxul as an urban center is not merely a semantic detail, it allows for a framework for analyzing and understanding both its internal organization and its place in the wider regional area. 2.1.3.1. Classic Maya Lowland settlement organization Classic Maya low-density settlements are characterized by the presence of intensive in-field agricultural cultivation and horticulture within the city and by the spatial clustering of houses (Smith and Novic 2012, 2). Settlements consist of household groups dispersed around a center, usually the location of palaces and ceremonial centers.

Patio groups tended to be organized in settlement clusters (Smith and Novic 2012, 2), centered around a sub-royal elite patio group often associated with a major group of civic-ceremonial architecture, which functions as the focus or leader of these clusters (Hendon 1991; Lemonnier 2012, 185–86; Smith and Novic 2012, 12). In these settlements, the settlement cluster is typically a basic component and is equivalent to a neighborhood with regular interaction among residents and shared economic and social attributes (Lemonnier 2009, 90; Smith and Novic 2012, 11,16). These clusters would have been co-resident, hierarchized groups participating in collective economic activities, possibly sharing identity, affinity, and/or kinship ties (Lemonnier 2012, 195). It seems that local elites were at least in part responsible for the formation of clusters and neighborhoods through an attraction and nucleation process (Arnauld, Michelet, and Nondédéo 2013; Lemonnier 2012, 195). Their residences would have been the center of localized power, the neighborhoods functioning as intermediate social and political units, with a fair amount of local authority and autonomy (Barnhart 2005, 19; Lemonnier 2012, 195). Larger districts tend to be composed of several household clusters and are often associated with a minor civic-ceremonial center which would have had public administrative as well as ritual functions (Smith and Novic 2012, 12).

The contemporary Maya use the term kahkab to refer to large communities (Marcus 2000, 236; RichardsRissetto 2010, 7). The term essentially bridges the supposed dichotomy between a built, human environment (kah meaning “populated place”) and a natural environment (kab meaning “land” or “earth”). Thus, instead of perceiving the city as a purely humanmade space, the Maya view their communities as the result of the interplay between the natural and the built worlds (Richards-Rissetto 2010, 7). The way the ancient Maya built important structures seems to conform to this blending of human-made and natural features. For example, temples along the Usumacinta River were built on top of caves with fast-flowing water that echoed up through the structure during the rainy season, and natural features were frequently used throughout the Maya area to elevate ceremonial and elite structures, making them appear larger and more impressive (Brady and Ashmore 1999; Leventhal 1981; Richards-Rissetto 2010, 7–8). The built environment is not merely a reflection of ancient societies, but a means of shaping social structures. It can 26

Theory and Methods 2.2. Theory and methods

(Chase and Chase 1992, 4). This means that they can be differentiated within the archaeological record.

2.2.1. Studying socio-economic inequality

Distinctions of “elite” and “non-elite” socio-economic classes are forged and expressed both locally and regionally, involving situationally negotiated expressions of power and wealth (Lohse and Valdez, Jr. 2004, 5). Variation in local economic production and participation in regional trade systems means that the specific material inventories associated with people along the socio-economic spectrum vary throughout a region and cultural sphere (Lohse and Valdez, Jr. 2004, 5). Additionally, the way people visually and outwardly express their socio-economic identity also varies from one place to another, following variations in local traditions and customs, as well as of concepts of value and importance. As such, distinctions between social classes in the archaeological record must be derived on a case by case basis, recognizing localized strategies for the expression, reinforcement, and legitimation of social position: the study of hierarchy and stratification in archaeology must be based on community-focused studies (Lohse and Valdez, Jr. 2004, 5).

2.2.1.1. Theory: approaches to the study of wealth inequality, stratification, and power The study of prosperity in archaeology is concerned with the identification of socio-economic inequality. Prosperity and wealth are not absolute notions, but must be understood in comparison with other social units within a given society. It is only by understanding the differences between the wealthy and the less wealthy that we can understand what constitutes wealth and how it is obtained in the society under investigation. This means that indicators of wealth must be identified in order to study their distribution archaeologically. What constitutes wealth, however, is dependent on the specific society as systems of value are not universal. Generally speaking, prosperity is defined by notions of success, abundance, and quality of life. In order to study such notions in the archaeological record, archaeologists must identify material indicators and proxies in order to measure and understand the nature and origins of prosperity and wealth.

Studies of social stratification in ancient Mesoamerica and elsewhere typically take one of two approaches. The first is to identify emic legal or formalized status positions, as they were defined within a society (Steere and Kowalewski 2012, 20–21). These may be defined in indigenous documents and historically named social categories, including distinctions such as nobility, commoners, elite, etc. (Steere and Kowalewski 2012, 21). Archaeologists taking such a direct historical approach typically look for material patterns that are consistent with the historically named social categories (Steere and Kowalewski 2012, 21). The second approach is a more etic one, and offers an inductive description of the social distribution of wealth (Steere and Kowalewski 2012, 21). In archaeology, the most common proxies used as indicators for the rank and wealth of an individual or household are domestic architecture, burials, and portable artifacts (Steere and Kowalewski 2012, 21).

Terms relating to the study of stratification, such as “elite” and “commoner” are often taken as self-evident, and are ill-defined in archaeological research (Chase and Chase 1992, 3). Often the word “elite” is associated with those people in a given society who are rich, powerful, and privileged, and it is correlated with a wide array of material remains (Chase and Chase 1992, 3). However, the same term is also associated with those who managed the political, economic, social, and religious institutions (Chase and Chase 1992, 3; Smith 2015, 4), a definition that is not dependent on material wealth, although most often associated with it. A consideration of categories such as the “elite” or “commoners” must concern itself with the concepts of power and control, and their relation to the accumulation of wealth, as the two may be correlated but are not necessarily directly related to each other (Chase and Chase 1992, 3; McAnany 1993; Smith 2015, 4). High-status individuals and groups tend to be better able to expand their networks and diversify their activities, as well as influence the flow of goods and boost their social influence, leading to high levels of wealth as compared to their lower status counterparts (Hirth 1992; Smith 2015). The way these relationships between wealth and power were made manifest, then, can give insight into the nature of elite power.

These two approaches are complementary. Wealth status may not coincide with status as defined by office, occupation, law, or social convention (Steere and Kowalewski 2012, 21). Indeed, wealth is not always accumulated by the same means by which one obtains other social statuses, such as membership of a kin group, having a particular legal status (noble, commoner, slave, etc.), or being of a certain gender, ethnicity, or age (Steere and Kowalewski 2012, 40). Wealth may be broadly and continuously distributed at the same time that access to these other statuses may be categorical and restricted. Thus, the two approaches combine to gain a better understanding of the cultural, legal, and material aspects of socio-economic stratification.

Whether elitism is based in ceremonial, sacred, political, or economic processes, however, it seems that elite contexts are systematically characterized by a greater claim to goods and services compared to non-elite contexts (Chase and Chase 1992, 4; Hirth 1992, 18; Trigger 2003, 541). Furthermore, different socio-economic classes in ancient societies are often characterized not only by their access to luxury goods, but also by artifact categories relating to the different activities and social roles that they performed

The standard of living or quality of life and prosperity in ancient societies can be reconstructed archaeologically using quantifiable measures of, for example, valuable 27

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands goods and architecture (Smith 2015, 1; Stark et al. 2016). Furthermore, the capabilities of households can be measured using the diversity of goods available to them and their participation in external social networks (Smith 2015, 3; Stark et al. 2016). Measures of joint participation in collective projects, stability of residence, population growth, longevity of settlement, and resilience to external shocks can also provide archaeological measures of prosperity and economic well-being (Smith 2015, 1, 2016, 110; Stark et al. 2016). While economic wealth and general well-being are not always directly linked, as the quality of one’s life can be affected by many more factors than wealth alone, wealth does typically provide people with opportunities to obtain a better quality of life, and measures of wealth and well-being are consistently correlated to each other cross-culturally (Smith 2015, 2016; Stark et al. 2016).

The following section focuses on the methods used for the description and quantification of the distribution of wealth in Late Classic Uxul. In the absence of unambiguous currencies or economic records, wealth in ancient Maya societies cannot be measured directly, and instead proxies are needed in order to indirectly compare levels of wealth among a population. In the case of Uxul, I will use domestic architecture as a proxy for household wealth, as it represents the ability of the members of a household to command resources and labor. This analysis will serve as one line of evidence for the study of socio-economic inequality at Uxul. The results of this analysis will be contextualized and connected to other aspects of socio-economic organization at Uxul, in order to better understand the relationships between wealth, power, and standards of living. The results of the quantification of domestic construction volumes as a proxy for wealth will further be used for the analysis of patterns of consumption and production, as well as settlement patterns with regard to levels of wealth (see Chapter 5: Settlement organization: household location and mobility and Chapter 6: Household economy: production and consumption). This will allow for further exploration of the ways in which wealth and power were linked in ancient Uxul society, the processes that were responsible for the observed distribution of wealth, the political and economic roles of the elite, the ways in which economic mobility and agency were distributed, and how the daily lives of the rich and the poor differed in terms of their general standards of living and quality of life.

Here, the term “quality of life” is defined as a concept that includes two components: an economic one and a sociocultural one (Smith 2015, 2). The concept is broader than economic production and living standards alone, as it includes the full range of factors that influence what we value in living, and is therefore not merely a measure of material factors (Stiglitz, Sen, and Fitoussi 2010, 61). Wealth, then, can be defined as the total of desirable goods, both social and material, possessed by someone or by a community (Smith 2015, 3). It seems that, while not a direct measure, wealth in durable, portable goods tends to be highly correlated with total wealth for households in a variety of cultural settings, making them good archaeological indicators for studying wealth in archaeological domestic contexts (Smith 2015, 3, 2016, 56; Stark et al. 2016).

2.2.1.2.1. Wealth distribution and inequality Research in Classic and Postclassic Mesoamerica, although there was variation over time and space, systematically shows wealth distributions that are broader and more continuous than would be expected if wealth were accessed strictly by noble of commoner legal status (Steere and Kowalewski 2012, 21). This goes for the Classic Maya as well, as available data on wealth stratification suggests that there was a broad range of wealth levels and considerable variation along the continuum (Steere and Kowalewski 2012, 36). Mesoamerican societies were certainly complex, but they were not necessarily rigid, highly centralized hierarchies (Steere and Kowalewski 2012, 38).

It should be noted that the concepts of wealth and quality of life used here do not necessarily correlate with the concept of status. The status of an individual or groups of people is not exclusively linked to wealth, but also to concepts of honor and prestige, meaning that the status of an individual or household is linked to subjective evaluations by other people (Smith 2015, 4). Furthermore, status is often linked to the rank or position of individuals within a hierarchy (Smith 2015, 4). Thus, while the concepts of status and wealth can be linked to each other via a number of social and cultural mechanisms, they are not equivalent.

Domestic architecture seems to have been a particularly important marker of wealth in ancient Maya societies and the analytical importance of architecture is clearly recognized among Mayanists. The differential ability to commission monumental architecture and to incorporate masonry in domestic construction is often one of the clearest indicators of wealth and socio-economic differences (Farah 2018, 3; Ringle, Gallareta Negrón, and Bey 2020; Smith et al. 2014, 321). It is a direct representation of the capacity of a social unit to obtain raw materials, commission the elaboration of those materials, and mobilize labor (Abrams 1994; Blanton 2013; Carmean,

2.2.1.2. Methods: approaches to the study of wealth inequality in Uxul How was wealth distributed in Uxul? Does the distribution of wealth correspond to a highly stratified society? What were the relationships between wealth and power? Who was able to accumulate wealth? How was wealth reflected in daily life? How does the distribution of wealth reflect the economic and political processes that were in place in Uxul? Here, I will discuss the approaches and methods I use in the present project in order to answer these research questions. 28

Theory and Methods McAnany, and Sabloff 2011; Ringle, Gallareta Negrón, and Bey 2020). This relationship is mainly based on the idea that larger houses are costlier to construct, requiring more materials, time, and labor, thus necessitating a higher level of wealth and power (Abrams 1994, 76; Smith et al. 2014, 312). Architectural investment can therefore be seen as a direct reflection of the socio-economic success and prosperity of a household unit, and would have been an outward visual marker of wealth permanently inscribed in the urban landscape and recognizable by other urban dwellers (Arnauld, Michelet, and Nondédéo 2013, 482; Hendon 2009; Ringle, Gallareta Negrón, and Bey 2020). Additionally, wealthier individuals tend to construct larger and more elaborate residences in order to display their wealth or socio-economic position (Ringle, Gallareta Negrón, and Bey 2020; Smith et al. 2014, 312). The elevation of elite households on high platforms can serve to physically elevate leaders relative to their subordinates, affirming their social and political superiority within the community, contributing to the establishment of their legitimacy by demonstrating their ability to marshal a substantial labor force (Farah 2018, 2; Ringle, Gallareta Negrón, and Bey 2020). The transformation and growth of domestic structures and spaces also provide insight into their prosperity because they are signs of growth and persistence (Arnauld et al. 2012; Smith 2015, 7–10). Indeed, in an agrarian society, the continuity and stability of occupation of a household are signs of its prosperity and success (Smith 2015, 7–9; Wells 2013). The importance of architecture as a marker of wealth in ancient Maya societies is confirmed by the fact that the size and elaboration of households widely correlate with other markers of wealth, such as artifact assemblages, elaboration of burials, and better diet of the occupants (Smith et al. 2014; Somerville, Fauvelle, and Froehle 2013).

the comparison and interpretation of collective measures of architectural cost rather than on the more symbolic or psychological dimensions of the architecture (Abrams 1994, 7). However, these factors can, in reality, not be disarticulated: architectural form is created through a complex interplay of decisions based on pre-existing concepts of form that are influenced by external material concerns within a context of cultural history (Abrams 1994, 20). These approaches, therefore, serve only to quantify and answer specific questions with regard to material aspects of life, but not to be taken as sole analytical tool or to be analyzed without regard to their specific cultural and social contexts, and factors that could influence wealth accumulation and the ways in which it was used (Smith et al. 2014, 312). They are best suited to achieve an understanding of behaviors associated with construction, or a comparison of costs and benefits of various architectural forms: quantitative approaches are explicit, replicable, and analogous to observable patterns of behavior in the contemporary world (Abrams 1994, 8). 2.2.1.2.1.1. Gini index The Gini index is a methodological tool that measures the concentration of a variable among the members of a population (Kohler et al. 2017; Peterson and Drennan 2018, 39, 2018, 39; Savoia, Easaw, and McKay 2010, 143; Smith et al. 2014, 312). It is most frequently used within the fields of demography, sociology, economics, and economic history to measure wealth and income in order to make comparisons among populations (Smith et al. 2014, 312). The method provides a coefficient ranging from zero to one, where zero represents perfect equality (no one has more or less wealth than anyone else) and one represents perfect inequality (one person or unit possesses all the wealth) (Chase 2017, 35; Savoia, Easaw, and McKay 2010, 143; Siegel and Swanson 2004, 116; Smith et al. 2014, 312). Thus, the higher the Gini index, the more unequal the distribution of the measured variable is.

However, qualitative assessments of the magnitude of architectural construction by the ancient Maya have long led scholars to rely on impressionistic assessments on which to base general interpretations about ancient Maya society, rather than on more empirical, quantitative studies of architectural scale (Abrams 1994, 4–5). This has led, among other things, to the general assumption that only a particularly complex socio-political organization could “take on the herculean task of continuously rebuilding and extending the man-made domain” (Andrews 1975, 17). These subjective assessments consistently emphasize the extreme power and control of rulers, an impression that may well have been intended by those commissioning the construction of monumental edifices in the first place (Abrams 1994, 5). While the large architectural works may thus serve as a testament to the political skills of Maya rulers, it is necessary to transcend these subjective assessments in reconstructing the Maya past. Applying quantitative and replicable methods to the architecture of the Maya provides a way to empirically test and reassess long-held assumptions (Abrams 1994, 5).

The Gini index is closely related to the Lorenz curve, a graphic device representing the inequality of two distributions: the curve shows the percentage of wealth held by a given percentage of the population, representing this distribution as a departure from equality represented by a 45-degree diagonal line (Peterson and Drennan 2018, 29, 2018, 39; Siegel and Swanson 2004, 116; Smith et al. 2014, 312). The Gini index is the numerical representation of the ratio of the area between the line of perfect equality and the Lorenz curve, and the entire area under the line of perfect equality (Chase 2017, 34). The Gini index can be computed as follows: æ ö æ ö Gini index = ç å X iYi+1 ÷ - ç å X i+1Yi ÷ è i=1 ø è i=1 ø where Xi is the cumulated proportion of the population variable and Yi is the cumulated proportion of the wealth variable (Siegel and Swanson 2004, 116). A simple

Such quantitative analyses of ancient Maya architecture are by definition materialistic in nature. They focus on 29

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands spreadsheet-based method for calculating Gini indices and plotting their corresponding Lorenz curve is used for this calculation, as described by Siegel and Swanson (2004, 116–17).

noted, however, that the number and diversity of imported goods in a given household context alone may not be a good indicator of the number of network connections, as a household may have obtained all of these goods from a single merchant (Smith 2015, 5). Such an analysis should therefore always be based on a larger context, differences between social units within a larger society, and combined with other available indicators of wealth and quality of life.

A Gini index can’t effectively be analyzed without combining it with its corresponding Lorenz curve. Indeed, two identical Gini indices may be related to very different Lorenz curves, depending on the actual distribution of the values (Chase 2017, 35; Peterson and Drennan 2018, 42). For example, in the case of a population with clearly defined classes with large wealth disparities, these would be visible as inflection points on the Lorenz curve (Chase 2017, 35). A society without strict barriers between social classes, on the other hand, would be represented by a more constant curve.

Another difference that can consistently be seen between elites and non-elites in urban settings is their access to urban services such as markets, religious structures, and assembly spaces (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 154). By measuring the distance people have to travel in order to access these services, the social integration of neighborhoods and cities, as well as the nature of the differences between elites and non-elites can be studied at the household level (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 147). Furthermore, by measuring the distance between the centers of neighborhoods and their nearest service facility, the same examination of access to service can be conducted at the neighborhood level (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 149).

In order to perform an analysis using the Gini index, a social unit needs to be selected as a basis. The household is a standard unit for the analysis of contemporary inequality, as households usually function as a single economic unit (Smith et al. 2014, 314). The exact parameters used for obtaining a Gini index and its corresponding Lorenz curve for non-perishable construction volumes in Uxul are discussed in Chapter 4: Wealth inequality.

The archaeological study of standards of living can thus be performed through the examination of consumption patterns and settlement organization. The links between standard of living and wealth as measured by domestic construction volumes are investigated throughout this project. Correlations between household wealth and consumption patterns, including those of utilitarian and expensive objects, foreign resources, and the diversity of possessions are examined through the composition of household assemblages. The approach to consumption patterns followed in this research is presented in more detail below (see 2.2.2.2.1 Distributional approach: consumption patterns). The link between household wealth and access to services and social integration is studied through the examination of settlement patterns and social network theory. The methods used in this project to study settlement organization are presented in more detail below (see 2.2.3.2 Methods: approaches to the study of settlement patterns in Uxul).

2.2.1.2.2. Standard of living One way of measuring quality of life in archaeological contexts is related to the link between the diversity of possessions and an individual’s ability to pursue and realize the goals they value (Smith 2015, 4). The greater the diversity of possessions in a household, reflecting a greater capability of household members to pursue various goals, the greater their capacity to carry out basic activities in more than one way (Smith 2015, 4, 2016, 58–59; Stark et al. 2016). So the number of different kinds of goods within individual functional categories correlates positively with higher levels of quality of life (Smith 2015, 4). Furthermore, access to external social networks can be considered to be a measure of household capabilities, as it provides social and economic opportunities for household members (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 367; Smith 2015, 4–5). Network connections have positive values for individuals, households, and societies, meaning that relationships can be seen as a valuable resource (Smith 2015, 5). In the case of urban neighborhoods, for example, it has been shown that those with more numerous and stronger links to the outside world tend to score higher on measures of economic and social prosperity (Smith 2015, 5). Thus, by looking at exchange systems, imported goods, and style networks, archaeological household data can provide evidence for social networks and therefore for quality of life (Smith 2015, 5, 2016, 58). Households with greater participation in external social networks tend to have more access to imported and foreign-style goods, as well as to diverse kinds of information which helps them pursue their particular goals, and contribute to resilience in situations of change (Smith 2015, 5, 2016, 58). It should be

2.2.2. Identifying market exchange 2.2.2.1. Theory: approaches to market exchange identification Detecting market exchange in the archaeological record is problematic, and there are several approaches that are often taken to achieve its identification. A contextual approach may infer the presence of a market system based on logical inference from the presence of cultural features, such as large cities and full-time craft specialization, believed to require the provisioning and distribution functions of a market to exist (Anaya Hernández et al. 2021; Feinman and Garraty 2010, 176–77; Hirth 1998, 453). Such an approach assumes, for example, that large numbers of craft specialists can be present only 30

Theory and Methods in societies that have reliable and efficient distribution systems (Hirth 1998, 454). A close relationship is assumed between levels of production, specialization, and the scale, complexity, and integration of the distribution systems that support them (Hirth 1998, 454). The existence of stable markets enables communities to specialize in the production of specific items, the value of which may have been derived from either spatially limited availability or socially restricted knowledge about their production (Shaw 2012, 121). At the same time, they would have allowed household units to produce small surpluses in order to acquire non-local goods such as, in the case of the Maya, obsidian, greenstone, granite stone for manos and metates, or marine products (Shaw 2012, 121). While craft specialization in itself does not prove the existence of market exchange, its organization may help to understand the place of market exchange in an economic system. For example, monopolies of the production of specific goods and services by a high-status social class would indicate a high level of control over their exchange. Production of valuable artifacts by lower-status individuals, however, is more likely to reflect surplus strategies through market exchange. Whether manufacturers were attached or independent provides insight into economic power, agency, and the organization of economic processes. While the absence of craft specialists does not necessarily mean that no markets existed, and their presence does not necessarily prove the existence of market exchange processes, their organization provides valuable information on the specific characteristics of a given economic system.

A configurational approach, on the other hand, aims to detect physical evidence of marketplaces, on the basis of features such as architecture, the spatial configuration of roads, platforms, and plazas, soil chemistries, artifact assemblages, etc. (Anaya Hernández et al. 2021; Dahlin 2009; Feinman and Garraty 2010, 177; Hirth 1998, 453; Shaw 2012, 124). While this approach is based on empirical inference, it remains difficult to rule out alternative hypotheses of plaza functions, and we know from modern markets, in particular periodic ones, that they tend not to leave much material evidence (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 177; Hirth 1998, 453). Although some markets may have had formally constructed stalls, many such places presumably did not (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 240). Periodic markets don’t require permanent market stalls and such areas are likely to be cleaned in between uses, making them particularly difficult to identify securely, and even the daily use of market space may leave little material evidence (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 240). While a configurational approach has been applied successfully in archaeological research through the identification of archaeological features and chemical analysis, including in ancient Mesoamerican and Maya contexts (see for example Anaya Hernández et al. 2021; Becker 2015; Cap 2015, 2020; Chase et al. 2015; Dahlin et al. 2010; Hutson 2017a; King 2021; Morton et al. 2012; Shaw 2012; Shaw and King 2015; Terry, Bair, and Coronel 2015), marketplaces are often not easily identified. A distributional approach, first developed by Hirth (1998), is based on the assumption that marketplace transactions entail access to all commodities for all households, regardless of social rank, thus producing large-scale relatively even distribution of artifact assemblages (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 177; Hirth 1998; Hutson 2021; Shaw 2012, 120). Marketplaces provide a centralized, but non-hierarchical, provisioning network distributing large quantities of resources independently of sociopolitical relationships (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 177; Hirth 1998, 455). While heterogeneous distributions of artifacts do not necessarily indicate an absence of market exchange (it can also indicate, for example, that not all goods were equally desirable for everyone, that multiple market exchange spheres existed with distinct supply channels, or that market exchange was only responsible for a smaller share of a place’s economic organization), homogeneous distributions arise only through the existence of market exchange and large scale commercialization. Indeed, economic distributions that are largely based on isolated balanced or generalized reciprocal exchanges, redistribution, or mobilization are typically characterized by small spheres of distribution, heterogeneity in the sources of commodities, and distribution patterns that replicate existing social hierarchies (Hirth 1998, 455). A high level of control of a ruling elite over the distribution of goods tends to result in large proportions of goods that serve as markers of status and wealth to be found in elite and/or ruler households, as well as a number of sumptuary goods that are exclusive to them (Hirth 1998, 455; Shaw 2012, 124).

A spatial approach involves inferences about market exchange by comparing observed empirical patterns against spatial configuration models based on, for example, falloff curves or central place theory (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 177; Hirth 1998, 454; Shaw 2012, 124). Since market exchange increases the efficiency, volume, and distance over which items travel, it is argued that they should produce distinctive distributions of items (Hirth 1998, 454). Fall-off models, however, are difficult to apply to the archaeological record except in situations where a point of origin can be determined with a high degree of certainty (Hirth 1998, 454), meaning that the location of marketplace exchange should be known in order to perform such analysis. A regional production-distribution approach considers the distributional scale of quotidian craft goods in relation to their locations and scales of production to evaluate the likelihood of market dissemination relative to other non-market mechanisms: the large scale dissemination of everyday commodities over large distances is assumed to be sustainable only in a market-driven economy (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 177). However, these arguments are ultimately predicated on logical inferences about scales of exchange and the supposed inability of other modes of exchange to function at the same scale as market exchange, rather than on evidence, and are therefore hard to test or quantify in the archaeological record (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 177). 31

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Contrary to the approaches discussed above, the distributional approach is empirically quantifiable and therefore allows testing for the presence of market exchange systems, as variability in artifact frequency and diversity can be measured among households of different social ranks over large areas (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 177; Hirth 1998, 454; Hutson 2021). Furthermore, it means that market exchange can be identified, even in cases where the locus of commercial transactions (i.e. marketplaces) is unknown.

goods, i.e. one or several marketplace(s), is unknown, since no physical marketplace has been identified in Uxul. Second, because most of the representative data on artifact distributions in Uxul comes from only ten households, any specific fall-off patterns beyond simple differences between central and peripheral locations will be obscured. A regional production-distribution approach is beyond the scope of the present research as it focuses on the household and settlement level of production and distribution, rather than on a regional scale. A configurational approach would be useful in the case of Uxul, as it would potentially allow for the archaeological identification of physical marketplaces. However, since large-scale excavation has not taken place in any of the plazas of Uxul, nor has chemical analysis of the soils, this is beyond the scope of the present research project.

A final approach to the identification of market exchange in the archaeological record is the study of wealth distribution. Indeed, the way in which wealth is distributed among households of any given society reflects the socio-economic processes that are responsible for that distribution (Friesen and Scheidel 2009; Kohler et al. 2017, 619; Savoia, Easaw, and McKay 2010, 142). Economic distributions are largely determined by their institutional environment, i.e. sets of formal and informal rules and belief systems such as laws, social conventions, norms, etc. (Frier and Kehoe 2007; Klein 2000, 458; North 1994, 366; Wells 2006, 266). Wealth and income distributions are the results of economic processes, and modern economics can provide insight into the processes that produced specific economic distributions (Brown et al. 2012, 311; Nirei and Aoki 2016; Targetti Lenti 1990).

Instead, I focus on empirically quantifiable approaches in order to identify and characterize potential market exchange at Uxul: the distributional approach, the analysis of wealth distribution, and a contextual approach focusing on the organization of household production activities. This not only allows for results that can be empirically tested, providing a solid underpinning for the results of the present analysis, but also for results that can be compared to other case studies, allowing for a better understanding of the diversity and commonalities of ancient Maya economies. I aim to understand Uxul’s economy and the place of commercialized exchange within it by integrating Hirth’s (1998) distributional approach and consumption patterns, with an analysis of household specialization and production patterns, and patterns of wealth distribution and insights from the field of modern economics into the mechanisms that are responsible for the observed economic processes.

The main issue with all of these approaches is that it is usually not possible to rule out alternative exchange mechanisms for the observed archaeological patterns (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 178). In order to deal with this problem, an approach incorporating elements from several of the approaches presented above, considering evidence at various scales and of various natures can overcome the problem of the equifinality of outcomes (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 178; Hutson 2020b).

The study of the mechanisms behind wealth distribution is based on the analysis of wealth distribution obtained from the results of the Gini-index analysis described above (see 2.2.1.2.1 Wealth distribution and inequality). The distributional approach is performed by examining the distribution of multiple artifact categories, both utilitarian and high-status goods, including different types of ceramics, polychrome ceramics, ceramics from different sources, types of obsidian artifacts, obsidian from different sources, shell artifacts, ceremonial artifacts, spindle whorls, bark-paper beaters, ceramic earspools, and greenstone. For artifact categories that are abundant and can be expressed in relative portions of assemblages, meaning that their distribution among the extensively excavated households is statistically representative, a Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity is used in order to measure the homogeneity or heterogeneity of their distribution (see the section Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity below). Additionally, statistical correlation (Pearson’s Correlation Coefficient (r) with the statistical significance expressed as a 2-tailed P-value (P)) between household wealth and the relative numbers of specific artifact categories allows us to test whether or not their distribution was related to wealth and status.

2.2.2.2. Methods: approaches to the study of market exchange in Uxul What was the nature of production, distribution, and consumption processes in Late Classic Uxul? To what extent was market exchange present in Uxul? Who had access to different types of consumer goods? How was production organized? How is market exchange reflected in the consumption and production patterns of Uxul? Who had economic power and agency? To what degree did the ruling class have control over economic processes in Uxul? Here, I will discuss the approaches and methods I use in the present project in order to answer these research questions. Because of the limitations of the data available for the present study of the ancient Uxul economy, not all of the above-mentioned approaches can be usefully applied in order to determine whether market exchange was present in Uxul, and, if so, on what scale. A spatial approach to studying fall-off patterns is not possible in this case because of two factors. First, the source location of commercial 32

Theory and Methods For artifact categories that are not abundant, and for which only sporadic finds have been registered (such as greenstone artifacts, spindle whorls, bark-paper beaters, and ceramic earspools), their distribution is analyzed based on criteria of presence or absence, as well as on the observation of remarkable patterns. The study of household production and specialization is performed by identifying artifacts that relate to specific activities and examining their distribution. Below, I will provide more detailed explanations of the distributional approach, the analysis of craft specialization, and the way these approaches are used throughout this project.

usually not the subject of direct social or political control that would skew the distribution of goods (in particular prestigious and expensive goods) in favor of specific social classes (Hirth 1998, 455). It is argued, therefore, that market exchange and commercialization tend to lead to relatively homogenous distributions of artifacts with high degrees of diversity of goods across the socioeconomic spectrum, and few goods that are exclusive to the elite (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 240; Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155; Hirth 1998; Hutson 2021; Shaw 2012, 120). Absolute quantities of goods, then, may vary based on wealth, but the proportions of household wealth expended to obtain goods and services (assuming that these are desirable for everyone) are similar across the social spectrum (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155; Hirth 1998, 460; Hutson 2021; Shaw 2012, 120). This holds for exotic or high-value goods in particular: marketplace exchange should result in a pattern in which the spatial distribution of these artifacts is concentrated in elite contexts, but without being exclusive to them (Shaw 2012, 121). Furthermore, a high diversity of household goods is expected for market exchange systems (Graham 2012, 422). Redistribution, on the other hand, would result in a heterogeneous distribution of goods by both type and quantity because of multiple relationships of obligation operating within a site (Shaw 2012, 124). Additionally, centralized redistribution tends to restrict the number of different types of goods poorer households have access to, resulting in low-diversity household assemblages, with formal restrictions on the types of goods lower class households were able to access (Graham 2012, 422; Hirth 1998, 455; Shaw 2012, 124).

2.2.2.2.1. Distributional approach: consumption patterns Broadly defined, consumption refers to the economic transactions involved in the acquisition of goods, decisions made leading to those acquisitions, as well as the use-life of the goods following their acquisition (following Walsh 2013, 231). Thus, consumption is at least partly a function of consumer choice and personal agency (Walsh 2013, 232). Consumer behavior is the behavior that consumers display in searching for, using, evaluating, and disposing of products, services, practices, and ideas which they expect will satisfy their needs (Ray 2016, 91). Consumption, therefore, is not merely a process representing utilitarian material objects, but also encompasses cultural signs and symbols (Ray 2016, 91). Consumption is characterized by consumer choice, as well as the availability of resources based on scarcity, price, and rules and conventions about consumption restrictions. Who consumes what and in what quantities, then, provides insight into how consumer products are accessed, how choices are made, what is desirable for whom, what is accessible for whom, and what economic processes govern these patterns.

Furthermore, even if marketplaces cannot be identified, the distribution of goods coming from them may provide clues to their location. A relatively homogeneous distribution of both utilitarian and finely crafted artifacts throughout a site supports the hypothesis that consumers throughout the site had access to a central market (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155). In the same way, neighborhoodlevel markets dispersed throughout the city would result in neighborhood-level differences in assemblages (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155).

Hirth (1998) first argued that a distributional approach would allow for the identification of market exchange in the archaeological record by a direct assessment examining the provisioning functions of a market and consumption patterns. Such an approach focuses on the differential distribution of commodities among one of society’s primary units of economic consumption, the household (Hirth 1998, 454). Although households in agrarian societies tend to produce a large portion of the resources they need for consumption, they are never entirely selfsufficient (Hirth 1998, 454). Market exchange is a strategy that allows them to provision themselves and provides a buffer from fluctuations in their own production strategies (Hirth 1998, 454).

A potential problem with this distributional approach, however, is the possibility of equifinality of outcomes. As argued above, for a given artifact type or material available in several styles or from different sources, in a classic market system each consumer will end up with approximately the same relative frequencies of the given artifact type or material, unless there is some particular preference for one kind of over another (Golitko and Feinman 2015, 216). In a redistributive system, resources and products are first transported to a single node, and are then redistributed to surrounding subordinate nodes. In this case again, unless there is a preference for a particular style or source material, each economic unit will obtain approximately the same relative frequencies of each of the variants (Golitko and Feinman 2015, 216). Of course, in the case a certain type is more desirable,

A market would increase the homogeneity of artifact assemblages of archaeological sites between households of all ranks because all households would be obtaining goods from the same market, with quantity varying in relation to household wealth (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 240; Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155; Hirth 1998; Hutson 2021; Shaw 2012, 120). Although marketplaces are often supervised and regulated by overseeing entities, individual economic transactions are 33

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands it would be expected that this is not redistributed or in smaller quantities, and would thus be underrepresented in subordinate nodes in the case of a redistributive system. In a market system, however, the more desirable variant would still be available to all parties, only costlier to obtain, leading to wealthier parties obtaining more of it in absolute numbers, but everybody owning the various variants in approximately the same proportions.

distribution of goods can thus be used as a way of better understanding and characterizing an economic system, but it works particularly well for desirable and costly objects and materials. Furthermore, such an approach can be used to support an interpretation of an economic system, but should not be used as proof on its own. The study of imported artifact classes in particular is relevant for the identification of economic exchange systems. Their foreign origin means that all of the variation between domestic assemblages would be a function of the distribution systems through which they moved, rather than reflect production loci (Hirth 1998, 459). Additionally, their relative scarcity, the foreign identity attached to them, and the higher cost and breakage rates associated with transporting them over large distances are likely to have made them prestige goods, making them sensitive to non-market forms of distribution including movement through the social hierarchy (Hirth 1998, 459). Thus, the hypothesis is that if non-market forms of distribution were important for a society, imported goods would be differentially distributed between elite and commoner houses (Hirth 1998, 459). This goes in particular for imported ceramics, as these can with a high degree of certainty be ascribed to non-local workshops, unlike obsidian and greenstone, which in some cases were imported in raw forms and further processed locally.

Redistribution and mobilization are alternative forms of distribution that, although they also provide a centralized flow of resources, result in distribution patterns different from those resulting from market exchange (Hirth 1998, 455). They do not facilitate resource distribution at the household level, and instead pooled resources may be consumed by the institution collecting them or made available to a smaller number of households that contributed to their collection (Hirth 1998, 455). In such a system, resources flow primarily through hierarchical social and political networks, rather than through independent economic channels (Hirth 1998, 455). The flow of resources and the number of provisioning relationships that individual households can establish to meet their economic needs are restricted in such a system, resulting in a high degree of heterogeneity between households in the types and quantities of resources that they are able to procure (Hirth 1998, 455). Additionally, the diversity of goods available to poorer households in particular tends to be low (Graham 2012, 422), and the distribution of highvalue and imported goods tends to parallel existing social hierarchies (Hirth 1998, 455).

Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity: The Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity is a tool used to determine the statistical similarity between two assemblages (Cowgill 1990; Peeples 2011; Robinson 1951). It is a tool that was developed specifically for the statistical comparison of archaeological assemblages in terms of their relative proportions of categories of data. The measure is considered a more appropriate and accurate measure of similarity in the composition of multiple assemblages than measures of correlation such as Pearson’s coefficient of linear correlation r, which has been used for similar analyses in the past, but which can produce negative similarity values, and cannot be treated as a true similarity metric (Cowgill 1990; Golitko, Feinman, and Nicholas 2019, 4). Other indices that have been used to measure similarity between assemblages include the Hamming and Jaccard indices, but these treat categories simply as present or absent, and are thus incapable of analyzing finer-grained frequency variations (Golitko, Feinman, and Nicholas 2019, 4–5). The Brainerd-Robinson coefficient, on the other hand, is relatively insensitive to the sporadic presence of certain artifact types, and is able to deal with data of varying quality and statistical significance (Golitko, Feinman, and Nicholas 2019, 5). It provides a measure of the similarity of the proportional quantities of different artifact types within discrete assemblages.

It should be noted that market exchange systems, depending on their internal organization, do not always result in homogeneous distributions throughout a settlement (see for example Hutson 2020b). This can be the case when specific market goods are not equally desirable for everyone, depending, for example, on differences in specialization, cultural differences, social identities, etc. Furthermore, if multiple market exchange spheres exist within a single city with different markets being supplied by distinct supply channels, this can also result in heterogeneous household assemblages depending on which individual market a household tended to get its goods from. This means that a heterogeneous distribution of goods by itself does not necessarily indicate the absence of market exchange, although distributions should still be distinguishable from those resulting from a lack of market exchange (Hirth 1998, 455). However, a relatively homogeneous distribution, coupled with little to no resources that are exclusive to the elite, would be evidence of an economic system that is largely based on a single sphere of exchange that was accessible to everyone. Marketplace exchange is different from other forms of distribution in that it provides individual households with a centralized but non-hierarchical provisioning network that operates independently of other socio-political relationships (Hirth 1998, 455). An analysis of the

The coefficient provides a scale of similarity between two assemblages ranging from 0 and 200, with 200 representing 34

Theory and Methods nature of the demand defining the function of the product, and the socio-economic role of the people using it as well as the amount required to satisfy demand. The logistics of distribution can identify the ways in which producers acquire raw materials and transfer the products to their consumers (Costin 1991, 3).

perfect similarity and 0 a complete lack of similarity. The formula can be calculated as follows: p

S= 200 − ∑ Pik − Pjk k =1

where S is the metric of similarity, and for all variables (k), P is the total percentage in assemblages i and j.

The way production is organized can also inform the primary stimulating forces behind production and distribution processes and the way they are integrated into the wider socio-political system (Costin 1991, 3). Variability in the organization of production systems can be characterized based on the following parameters (Costin 1991, 8–18; Smith 2004, 82–83):

Throughout this study, Brainerd-Robinson coefficients of similarity were performed in R using the script developed by Peeples (2011). The output is a rectangular matrix of Brainerd-Robinson coefficients providing pair-wise measures of similarity for all of the assemblages included. 2.2.2.2.2. Craft production and specialization: production patterns

• Context: the socio-political affiliation of producers and the demand for their products • Concentration: the location and concentration of producers, and their spatial relationship in regard to the consumers • Scale: the organization of production units, their size, and their composition • Intensity: the amount of time producers spend on their craft, full-time vs. part-time production or specialization

Craft production is the transformation of resources such as raw materials and/or components, time, and energy into desired objects and/or services (Costin 1991, 3; Wilk and Rathje 1982, 622). It is the process of transforming something less desirable (resources, time, energy, etc.) into something more desirable (the desired product or end) (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 622). Craft can be defined as a productive process that involves skill, flexibility, creativity, choice, and knowledge accumulated over time, often through non-verbal experiential and observational learning, and embedded in a social context (Hendon 2006, 355). Craft production, by definition, requires knowledge and skill that are acquired and transmitted through social processes, and learned through experience, repetition, and the senses (Hendon 2006, 356). The abilities that are required for any type of craft production are engrained in the body through the learning process and by the technologies themselves, which require physical action (Hendon 2006, 362). Craft production, then, can be seen as a set of socio-economic processes involving materials, equipment, ways of using that equipment, and knowledge (Hendon 2006, 355). It should be noted that the term production does not exclusively refer to the physical process of shaping the material(s) into the desired product, but can also include non-physical forms of production such as the performance of services.

An additional way in which production tasks can be differentiated is between linear and simultaneous tasks (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 622). Linear tasks can be done by a single person performing a sequence of operations, while simultaneous tasks must be performed by a number of people acting at the same time (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 622). Many activities can be accomplished either in a linear or simultaneous way: a single individual can dig clay, make pots, and fire them, or a group could break the work down and operate simultaneously in order to get the same result (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 622). In addition, we can distinguish between simple simultaneous tasks (multiple individuals perform the same task at the same time with a common goal) and complex simultaneous tasks (individuals work at the same time for a common goal, but doing different parts of the job, involving specialization) (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 622).

Production activities are embedded in their political, social, and economic systems and are shaped by constraints and opportunities in the environment (Costin 1991, 2). Aspects that are key to understanding the organization of production processes are the distribution of raw materials and resources, the nature of the technology, and skill and training (following Costin 1991, 2). This means that in order to study production processes and their implications in society, a fairly detailed understanding of the natural and social environment in which they function is required.

For tasks that require large amounts of energy and must be finished in a short period of time, such as agricultural or architectural activities, simple simultaneity is often more efficient than linear labor (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 622). On the other hand, in many other kinds of tasks factors such as economies of scale and task specialization make complex simultaneity more efficient (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 622– 23). These kinds of characteristics determine, among other things, what size household will be the optimum for the completion of tasks (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 623). For example, Japanese swidden agriculturalists, with many widely scattered fields, require many tasks at different places to be carried out at the same time (complex simultaneity), resulting in households trying to add as many productive hands as possible. This society had, consequently, very large and complex households (Wilk

Furthermore, production cannot be fully understood in isolation from the economic systems it is set in. An understanding of distribution and consumption processes can inform us of the economic, social, and political contexts of production (Costin 1991, 3). Consumption patterns can characterize the demand for the product, the 35

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands and Rathje 1982, 623). Modern Kekchi Maya, on the other hand, tend to cultivate a single large plot in the course of the year, which means that they need a large labor force only one or two times a year for clearing land or planting corn (simple simultaneity), with the rest of the year production being accomplished on a linear schedule. They tend to form small, nuclear family households, and come together in community labor groups on the few occasions larger scale simultaneous labor is needed (Wilk and Rathje 1982, 623). Thus, the size and social composition of a household are very much linked to the way it is organized in terms of occupation and economic production activities.

it was shaped by individuals, and in turn determined the daily lives of the people living in them. Patterns of urban organization reflect strategies employed by ruling classes in order to achieve their goals (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019). In particular, strongly centralized, top-down planning of cities tends to result in different urban patterns than organic growth and bottom-up processes do (Fargher, Blanton, and AntorchaPedemonte 2019, 174–75). The presence, type, and distribution of public infrastructure reflect the political strategies used by ruling classes to build and maintain power and prosperity (Fargher, Blanton, and AntorchaPedemonte 2019, 173). This means that the organization of a settlement can be used as a basis for understanding the power structures that influenced its configuration.

A distinction is often made between independent and attached forms of specialization. Independent craft specialization corresponds to the creation of goods for an unspecified demand and is performed outside of elite control (Kovacevich 2013, 255–56). Attached specialization involves production for a specific elite demand, where the elite control part or all of production and derive power and prestige from the products (Kovacevich 2013, 256). It follows that independent specialists tend to make subsistence or utilitarian goods, as a response to unevenly distributed resources and/or economic and demographic stress (Kovacevich 2013, 256). Attached specialists, on the other hand, typically manufacture prestige goods, expensive items, or weapons for a specific demand group, which are usually distributed in a restricted manner among elites (Kovacevich 2013, 257). These categories, however, should not be seen as dichotomous, but rather along a continuum (Kovacevich 2013, 257). The way specialization is organized, however, provides information about the way an economy is organized, and who had power over which production and distribution mechanisms.

The way settlements and landscapes are organized and relate to each other reflect and shape the daily lives of those living in urban environments. Recently, research into the organization of ancient cities has begun to investigate not only how settlement organization reflects ancient life, but also how it was a mechanism that shaped it (Pacifico and Truex 2019, 7; Richards-Rissetto 2017, 195). Urban landscapes are organized in ways to facilitate or restrict access, channel movement, provide visual cues to influence interaction, and reflect social organization (Giovannoni [1931] 1998; Hillier et al. 1993; Richards-Rissetto 2017, 196; Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 365). Features of both the natural landscape (such as topography and hydrology) as well as the built environment (such as houses and streets) shape how individuals and groups of people move within the urban landscape. The spatial layouts of temples, houses, roads, etc. create spatial configurations that routinize how people negotiate their surroundings on a day-to-day basis (Richards-Rissetto 2017, 196). At the same time, the way people move through the urban environment influences the way it is organized, as the accessibility of destinations is a factor in the choice of destinations, and more accessible spaces are more likely to be selected as good locations for spaces with a public nature (Hillier et al. 1993, 30). Space is not merely a pre-existing environmental backdrop, but is instead continually defined and redefined to accentuate the social boundaries that underlie ideologies of political order (Harvey 1996; Kosiba and Bauer 2013, 66).

2.2.3. Studying socio-political and economic power structures 2.2.3.1. Theory: the relationship between power structures, economic configuration, and settlement organization It is a universal fact of life in cities that where you live affects how you live (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 156). This is true with regard to access to crucial resources and services, social standing, political influence, daily activities, health, etc. Household location is directly related to the way daily life is organized and the general well-being of its occupants. Wealthier people tend to live in more advantageous locations within cities, though what is considered advantageous may differ according to social conventions, socio-economic roles, and physical characteristics of the environment. The relationships between wealth and household location can thus tell us more about the concerns, incentives, power, and roles of people along the socio-economic spectrum. The study of who lived where, and the ways in which elements of the urban environment were related to each other is crucial to understanding the organization of ancient cities, the way

“Where you live affects how you live” (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 156). The ways in which ancient cities were spatially organized were both the result of, and resulted in, socio-economic patterns of organization as they reinforced one another. In this chapter, I explore the ways in which spatial settlement patterns, power structures, and socio-economic systems are interrelated and what this means for the study of an archaeological urban center. 2.2.3.1.1. Neighborhoods Urban areas throughout world history share some form of social and spatial organization into neighborhoods, 36

Theory and Methods districts, or social clustering (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 149; Giovannoni [1931] 1998; Smith 2010; Smith and Novic 2012, 1; Stanley et al. 2016). The ubiquity of neighborhoods as an urban form has long been recognized by urban scholars and social scientists as an essential aspect of city life, although this was only recently recognized as a key topic for our understanding of life in ancient cities (Arnauld, Manzanilla, and Smith 2012; Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 149; Pacifico and Truex 2019; Smith 2010, 2011; Smith and Novic 2012; Wernke 2019). People living in urban centers universally organize important aspects of their lives on a social and spatial scale that is intermediate between the household and the city (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha‐Pedemonte 2019, 160; Hutson 2016; Smith 2010, 137; Smith and Novic 2012, 1; Wernke 2019). Neighborhoods are socio-spatial units in which people carry out many of their basic day-to-day activities, from work to leisure, and which create community through faceto-face interactions (Pacifico and Truex 2019, 6; Smith and Novic 2012, 5). Most social life in pre-modern cities took place in neighborhoods, making them a particularly productive unit for exploring the human experience of life in early cities (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 149).

social landscapes that aim to integrate and unite multiple households, but without homogenizing their residents (Pacifico and Truex 2019, 5). Typical activities and conditions within a neighborhood include frequent and regular social interaction among residents, shared social characteristics, an administrative role within the city, and a ceremonial focus for social integration (Smith 2011, 65). Neighborhood residents often share one or more social attributes which distinguish them from residents of other neighborhoods, such as occupation, socio-economic status, ethnicity, language, cultural background, etc., although this is not always the case (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 145; Giovannoni [1931] 1998, 100; Hutson 2016, 70; Smith 2010, 146, 2011, 53; Stone 2019, 188). At the same time, the sense of familiarity and belonging created in neighborhood communities contributes to articulating and transcending disparate age cohorts, gender groups, specializations, and other aspects of social identities (Pacifico and Truex 2019, 12). Neighborhood members often participate in collective work projects involving the maintenance of common facilities, and they typically take part in communal ceremonies or festivities (Blanton and Fargher 2012; Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019; Smith 2011, 54). Neighborhood identity or “neighborhood attachment” is a universal cross-cultural attribute of neighborhoods (Smith 2010, 151). Such identities shape and contribute to maintaining much of the social life that characterizes neighborhoods. So neighborhoods are spatial zones that are often created and maintained as a result of bottomup social processes (Smith 2011, 53). At the same time, neighborhoods also often serve organizational purposes, facilitating the management of a large city by breaking it up into smaller units (Blanton and Fargher 2012; Smith and Novic 2012, 4). Civic officials, either residents serving as officials or state functionaries, are sometimes present in neighborhoods for administrative functions such as recordkeeping, taxation, organization of labor, or other oversight activities (Smith 2011, 54). Administrative activities like tax collection and record-keeping, for example, tend to be organized on a neighborhood scale, instead of being the exclusive domain of more centralized authorities (Smith and Novic 2012, 1). Furthermore, neighborhoods serve as mechanisms to articulate their residents with other parts of the wider settlement system (Blanton and Fargher 2012; Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019, 160; Pacifico and Truex 2019, 6). Such residential zones tend to be created by municipal or state authorities for administrative purposes, in a top-down process, as a way to maintain control over large populations (Blanton and Fargher 2012; Smith 2011, 53). Neighborhoods that are primarily the result of strongly centralized top-down processes tend to be marked by a strongly present public infrastructure with regular, uniform neighborhoods centered around it (Fargher, Blanton, and AntorchaPedemonte 2019, 172). Neighborhoods that arise as the result of small scale responses to local concerns through bottom-up processes, on the other hand, tend to take form in a more organic way, and consequently be more irregular

In small groups of people, social integration can generally be based on familial relations (family, clan, lineage, etc.) (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 145). For larger groups such as cities, however, such integration reaches a structural limit due to its reliance on face-to-face interaction, and the interdependence that characterizes social integration requires common identification with non-relatives (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 145; Hutson 2016, 19–20; Smith 2010, 137). Through actual face-to-face relationships, or the illusion thereof, neighborhoods serve as integrative socio-spatial institutions that cultivate familiarity and social control, similar to smaller communities, as a strategy against potential alienation, isolation, anonymization, or anomie within an urban context (Hutson 2016, 2; Pacifico and Truex 2019, 6). The condition of spatial proximity to people who are socially distant that is characteristic of city life presents challenges, and the organization into neighborhoods serves, in some ways, to create a semblance of village life within the city (Hutson 2016, 70). In modern cities, urban planners emphasize the importance of such extra-familial connections, and consider the role of service facilities in promoting (or reducing) social cohesion crucial for the success of a neighborhood (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 145). A neighborhood is here defined as a residential zone that has both considerable face-to-face interactions in the form of day-to-day socio-economic relationships and distinctive social characteristics, resulting in the development of a common identity as a social unit (Arnauld et al. 2012, 205; Smith 2010, 139, 2011, 65; Smith and Novic 2012, 4; Stone 2019). Furthermore, neighborhoods have distinctive physical characteristics, which can include barriers around the neighborhood, a specific arrangement of buildings, or some other pattern in the use of space (Hutson 2016, 71; Smith 2010, 139). They are residential, 37

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands with greater differences between neighborhoods, both in household architecture and public infrastructure (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019, 173).

open systems with varying degrees of homogeneity and external connectivity, their processes overlapping in space and the social world (Smith 2010, 140).

Neighborhood formation in urban contexts, however, is never the result of solely top-down or bottom-up processes (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019; Pacifico and Truex 2019, 5; Smith 2010, 150; Stone 2019). While a distinction is sometimes made between neighborhoods that are formed through bottom-up local processes on the one hand and districts that arise through top-down processes on the other (Smith 2010, 2011; Smith and Novic 2012), the two are not always strictly separate or distinguishable. Instead, it is typically the tensions and interrelationships between such processes and agencies that are crucial in shaping neighborhoods, cities, and complex settlements (Pacifico and Truex 2019, 5). A diversity of social and political processes is typically responsible for the development, maintenance, and evolution of individual neighborhoods (Smith 2010, 150). The study of neighborhoods in archaeology draws on household archaeology approaches, helping to understand the relationships between different households and between households and institutions, in order to understand the interplay between bottom-up and top-down processes in cities (Pacifico and Truex 2019).

While neighborhoods are units that are significant both in spatial and social contexts, archaeological research into them is distinctive in that it typically must consider the spatial organization first in order to work towards social interpretations (Smith 2010, 137). Indeed, archaeologists must first isolate spatial zones that could represent residential areas, before investigating whether such zones can in fact be interpreted as neighborhoods (Smith 2010, 137). Such spatial zones can be used as a starting point to determine whether they correspond to functional zones that exhibit traits that are typical for neighborhoods. This can be achieved by applying spatial data, relating, for example the distributions of artifacts, architectural forms, floodways, etc. In general, neighborhoods in ancient urban centers are identified on the basis of material remains through a combination of the identification of areas bounded by physical features (either natural, such as rivers or ravines, or man-made, such as walls, avenues, canals, etc.), areas of social distinctiveness, and spatial clustering (Smith 2010, 146). The concept of the neighborhood allows for an exploration and contextualization of themes such as identity, productive practices, authority, social networks, household agency, and institutions (Pacifico and Truex 2019). It helps to understand how this kind of social clustering helps residents adapt to life in large cities (Hutson 2016, 71). Neighborhood approaches highlight the relationships between physical and social environments in cities as experienced by elites and commoners alike. This concept can help us understand the ways in which larger social formations are reflected in everyday practices, as well as the ways in which individual interactions on a daily basis in social networks of families and households come together to influence and reinforce larger social formations through shared norms, values, and behaviors (Pacifico and Truex 2019, 15). Furthermore, intermediate units on the neighborhood level tend to be longer lasting than the political regimes in which they were embedded, providing a unique insight into the long-term processes shaping urban life (Hutson 2016, 71). The archaeology of neighborhoods is an extension of household archaeology approaches, as it focuses on the study of the interconnected lives of households in residential sectors, and the roles that these households play in relation to each other and to the public spaces of neighborhoods and cities (Pacifico and Truex 2019, 8–9). Such approaches take into account both individual households and their context, as a complex and indivisible whole. They help understand the roles that individual households played in larger structures of political, economic, and social processes.

It should be noted that neighborhood boundaries are likely to be “fuzzy”, and neither universally recognized nor permanent (Pacifico and Truex 2019, 11–12; Smith 2010, 140). Because the spatial and social patterns that characterize a neighborhood (social networks, interactions, and the distribution of social characteristics, for example) may not have single, clearly defined boundaries, neither do many neighborhoods (Smith 2010, 140). The contours of neighborhood affiliation as they are conceived by its inhabitants and by outsiders alike are often unclear and may change over time. While some neighborhoods, especially in large cities, tend to be more or less permanent in character, short-term socio-spatial groups that are indistinguishable from permanent neighborhoods can appear temporarily within settlements (Stone 2019, 187). Neighborhoods typically are not defined only by geographical and demographic criteria, but are deeply social entities and partially imagined (Pacifico and Truex 2019, 12; Smith 2010). Spatial attributes of neighborhoods are produced and reproduced as they channel and foster social practice and patterns of interaction, producing and reinforcing social boundaries (Wernke 2019, 181). The neighborhood thus is also an imagined community, a fluid social, symbolic, and political entity (Wernke 2019, 182) that is not a static unit, and is subject to change and individual interpretation. On top of this, neighborhoods, despite the social unity they foster and are based on, may include many individuals and households with differing, and sometimes competing, agendas and interests. Neighborhoods thus are complex units that are at the focal point of much of the interplay of social, political, and economic concerns inherent to urban life, and expressed in social practices, spatial structures, and discourse. They are

2.2.3.1.2. Collective action and public infrastructure A ruler has to satisfy the basic needs of his or her subordinates in order to maintain power and avoid being 38

Theory and Methods overthrown. At the same time, commoners are dependent on the authority of a centralized ruler to enforce and supervise the construction of vital infrastructure. In this way, there is a relationship of interdependency between rulers and commoners. A ruler is thus never in a position of “total power”, nor commoners in a position of “total servitude”. Such interdependencies are often expressed in the form of public construction projects and collective action. Public infrastructure, especially when it provides crucial services and resources (e.g. administration, marketplaces, water management, religious services, etc.) is the result of the interdependence between rulers and commoners, and is a cornerstone for the survival of an urban society and its way of life.

the distribution of public goods, accommodate tax-payer voices, limit free-riders, control political agents, limit the power of individual actors to act overly individualistically, etc. (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019, 172). Although collective states bring advantages, public goods in particular, they are also likely to present problems. The potential for selfish behavior, such as taxpayers benefitting from public goods without complying with tax payment (free riders), and authorities diverting resources away from collective benefit (the agency problem), may limit the possibilities for developing and maintaining cooperative groups (Blanton and Fargher 2012, 29; North 1981, 45). To deal with these problems states that are more collective in character must, for example, build the capacity to control agents charged with managing resources and find ways to minimize taxpayer free-riding in order to maintain the trust of compliant taxpayers (Blanton and Fargher 2012, 29). A more collective state therefore requires comparatively more complex administrative systems (Blanton and Fargher 2012, 29). The existence of administrative districts in a city implies some kind of official concern of urban authority with the affairs of urban residents (Smith and Novic 2012, 17). The nature and extent of that concern, however, can vary widely among and within urban traditions (Smith and Novic 2012, 17). There seems to be an association between the level of collective action in states and the degree of intrusion into the affairs of urban neighborhoods (Smith and Novic 2012, 18). A collective state is, by necessity, a powerful state, although not in the sense of totalitarian rule, but in terms of “infrastructural power” in which authorities are more intrusive into the affairs of people at all levels of the community, and able to penetrate civil society and to implement logistical political decisions throughout the realm (Blanton and Fargher 2012, 29–30; Smith and Novic 2012, 17).

All cities have arrangements for the provision of public goods and services to their residents (Smith et al. 2016). For the large, relatively dense populations that characterize urban centers it becomes impossible for households to provide for all of their basic household needs on their own, meaning that collective action is needed in order to sustain city life (Smith et al. 2016, 1583). However, such collective action can be organized at many different levels, from centralized governments to non-governmental institutions, to people working together informally (Smith et al. 2016, 1575). As such, a variety of arrangements and configurations of power, agency, and structure can provide the foundation for urban service provision and collective action. Urban services lie at the intersection between urban daily life, institutions, governing bodies, and the built environment, and are inextricably linked to patterns of social inequality (Smith et al. 2016, 1575). One of the primary goals of institutions is the provisioning of public goods, and managing the equitable and sustainable distribution of common-pool resources (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019, 160). In some settings, institution building is the result of an entirely top-down process from the state, while in others it involves collaboration between smaller-scale units, such as neighborhoods, and the state in a more bottom-up process (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019, 160). Different processes and foundations for the organization of public goods and services tend to be reflected in the ways they are organized, and in how urban life organizes itself around them.

In all states, rulers and subjects have mutual obligations to some degree, but the nature and social importance of these obligations vary across societies (Blanton and Fargher 2012, 28). In states that rely on a relatively high level of collective action, mutual obligations are central to the regime-building goals, and are institutionally and organizationally supported (Blanton and Fargher 2012, 28). This means that the key decision-makers of a community allocate resources to provide benefits to the community’s population, while the subjects, in turn, provide most of the state’s revenue (Blanton and Fargher 2012, 28–29). In less collective states, on the other hand, taxpayers play a lesser role in producing revenue, and instead, leaders of the community tend to derive revenues from the control of foreign trade or have direct control over land and coerced labor (Blanton and Fargher 2012, 29). Therefore, in situations that are less collective, because taxpayers are not the state’s main revenue source, they tend to be in a comparatively weak position and less able to demand public goods and effective governance from state leaders (Blanton and Fargher 2012, 29). As a result, leaders tend to be relatively indifferent to the demands of commoners,

Collective action is a social force that is likely to influence the social character of neighborhoods and districts in cities, as well as the degree and nature of their links to central authorities (Blanton and Fargher 2012, 41). Indeed, institution building to promote collective action tends to be a predominant factor in shaping intermediate socio-spatial units in urban settings (Fargher, Blanton, and AntorchaPedemonte 2019, 172). Such units, often in the form of neighborhoods, may be built from the bottom up as a response to problems associated with provisioning public goods (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019, 172). On the other hand, they may also be built from the top down in mutualistic processes in order to facilitate 39

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands and therefore be less intrusive into the affairs of urban neighborhoods (Blanton and Fargher 2012, 29).

Landau 2014, 372). When actors move through a cultural landscape they take cultural rules and conventions into account (consciously or unconsciously), meaning that the decisions they make about the resources they acquire, the places they go, and the paths they choose are influenced by those rules and conventions, and at the same time actively shape society (Murrieta-Flores 2010, 250). The ways in which individuals and groups move within a place are affected both by features of the natural landscape, such as topography or hydrology, as well as by the human-made built environment (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 365). People tend to locate themselves, and organize their surroundings to either facilitate or restrict access, channel movement, and influence interactions (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 365). Because the spatial layout of urban landscapes influences daily movement and personal interactions, the study of mobility can help to illuminate social structures and how they may be produced and reinforced (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 373).

2.2.3.2. Methods: approaches to the study of settlement patterns in Uxul How were economic, social, and political processes organized and interrelated in Late Classic Uxul? How was the settlement of Uxul organized? Where did people along the socio-economic spectrum live in Uxul? What differences in access to resources and services were there between socio-economic classes? What role did people and households along the socio-economic spectrum play within their neighborhoods and the wider settlement? How do these settlement patterns reflect the political and economic organization of Uxul? Here I will discuss the approaches and methods used in the present project in order to answer these research questions. In order to study the ways in which the Uxul settlement was organized I use Geographic Information System (GIS)based approaches. This allows for the study of settlement patterns in Uxul based on the maps produced during the survey of the site. This includes all of the residential areas, as well as non-residential features (such as the ceremonial centers and the water reservoirs) that were detected on the surface of the site, within the limits of the mapping area. Using GIS enabled me to examine not only absolute distances, spatial patterning, and differences in elevation, but also to estimate walking times between features, taking into account the varied urban landscape of Uxul. I use intra-site mobility analysis based on walking times in order to study patterns of social integration, as well as access to services and resources. This allows for the study of not only how people chose where to live, but also what roles they are likely to have played in their community, what resources were important to them, and how their daily lives differed. Such analysis provides insight into the political and social organization of Uxul as it reflects power structures with regard to who was able to obtain an advantageous location for their household, as well as which factors were important in household location for different socio-economic groups. Furthermore, I use GIS and social network theory in order to identify neighborhoods within Uxul. This allows for a study of the role of neighborhoods in the wider settlement system, as well as of the ways in which they emerged and their composition. It also allows for an examination of the roles of different households within the neighborhoods, providing further information about political and economic power structures at play in the Uxul settlement. In this way a settlement model can be construed, helping to understand the political and economic processes that drove its organization.

Mobility patterns reflect the potential for daily face-toface interactions, and can therefore be read as social networks, providing information on social integration, identity, territoriality, connectivity, political complexity, and inequalities (Murrieta-Flores 2010, 249; RichardsRissetto and Landau 2014, 372; Smith 2010, 146). Indeed, human movement is not merely an economic strategy, but also a way to access social resources and a way in which societies organize themselves (Murrieta-Flores 2010, 249– 51). Consideration of potential paths of movement across an urban landscape allows us to model spatial relationships on the scale of neighborhoods, and infer the intensity and nature of social relations between members of a society (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 365). This is based on the principle that people are more likely to travel to and interact with people and places they can reach more easily or quickly, simply because those places are more accessible (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 365). Urban environments are social and political products, and, in turn, people’s perception and use of the environment influence their social and economic organization (Kosiba and Bauer 2013, 61–62).

2.2.3.2.1. Mobility in urban contexts

Early cities tended to be places of inequality, where poorer residents shared urban spaces with wealthy, powerful elites on a daily basis (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 143). Such a juxtaposition of social classes must have had an impact on urban life and human experience in the past. Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith (2016) argue that such topics should be studied by focusing on three universals of urban life and organization: elites, neighborhoods, and urban services. Intra-site mobility analysis addresses all three of these topics and fits within the “Archaeology of the Human Experience” and social history frameworks (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 143–44):

Movement is a cultural practice that structures the flow of information, shapes interactions, and creates and reproduces social networks (Bourdieu 1977; Giddens 1986; MurrietaFlores 2010, 249; Rapoport 1990; Richards-Rissetto and

• by quantifying unequal access to urban services, conditions of urban life and inequalities are studied • the origins of such conditions are addressed through the documentation of inequalities in service access 40

Theory and Methods • by exploring the ways in which service inequalities correspond to socio-economic inequality, the conditions of urban life are studied within their larger social and cultural context • the negative impacts on daily life created by inequalities in service access shed light on the experience of these conditions by ordinary people.

Typically, the results of studies into access to resources and services in both ancient and modern cities tend to show a concentric pattern radiating from well-serviced central city areas to less well connected and serviced neighborhoods on the periphery (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 147; Stanley et al. 2016, 132). City-center neighborhoods tend to have above-average access to all resources except agricultural lands, as most resources and services tend to be centrally located in the city core (Stanley et al. 2016, 132). Furthermore, elites tend to have better access to services than non-elites (although this is not a universal pattern) and the more elites are spatially segregated from the rest of the population, the higher inequality in walking times tends to be (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016; Stanley et al. 2016, 135; Wolch, Wilson, and Fehrenbach 2013; Zenk et al. 2005). However, while elites may tend to have better access than non-elites, comparative research shows that neighborhoods with strong elite presence do not consistently have better access to services than neighborhoods without elites, meaning that the individual residential advantages of elites are not necessarily strongly extended to their surroundings (Stanley et al. 2016, 137– 38). In many urban settings, however, including many ancient Maya cities, elite groups tend to cluster in central city areas to remain close to the main governmental and religious centers and facilities, enhancing elite social and political control (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 147; Stanley et al. 2016, 123).

Sociologists, social geographers, and urban planners have long studied socially relevant spaces within urban contexts, as open spaces form important networks in a city and are platforms where many interactions and activities would have taken place (Cuijpers 2016, 36; Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016; Stanley et al. 2016). They have shown that social disparities and differential access to essential services among neighborhoods and social classes are commonplace in contemporary world cities (Del Casino, Jr. and Jones, III 2007; Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 144; Stanley et al. 2016, 122; Wolch, Wilson, and Fehrenbach 2013; Zenk et al. 2005). Studies of sociospatial inequality and spatial inequity in residential access to public and private spheres and services have also been concerns in the fields of political science, anthropology, sociology, economics, leisure and recreation studies, and public health (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 144; Stanley et al. 2016, 123). Longer travel times to services and resources negatively impact the general well-being of urban residents by reducing access to key services and taking away time from other activities, meaning that differences in urban access contribute to differences in general well-being (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 143; Smith et al. 2016, 1585). Contemporary research shows that a lack of access to quality services may trigger poor health, educational, and employment outcomes (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 147; Wrigley, Guy, and Lowe 2002). Furthermore, poor service access impedes social integration because it reduces the potential for face-to-face interactions, and consequently negatively affects quality of life (Dempsey, Brown, and Bramley 2012; Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 145; Smith et al. 2016, 1585).

Political influence of centrally located elites may influence the location of crucial resources and services, although it is difficult to determine whether elite manipulation of service locations or their residential choices or both are responsible for their advantage in access, and advantage of access would be only one of the factors influencing the location of those resources (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 144; Stanley et al. 2016, 137). The proximity of facilities contributes to elite maintenance of their higher status through the manipulation of social institutions (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 147). The built environment and the policies that structure it thus play a powerful role in replicating and reinforcing inequalities from generation to generation.

Applying spatial perspectives to pre-modern cities represents a relatively new form of historical analysis that is in line with a modern emphasis on space in such disciplines (see for example Anaya Hernández 2001; Arnold and Ford 1980; Cuijpers 2016; Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016; Folan et al. 2009; Kosiba and Bauer 2013; Murrieta-Flores 2010; Richards-Rissetto 2010; RichardsRissetto and Landau 2014; Stanley et al. 2016). In the case of ancient cities, the study of spatial equity and mobility is, by necessity, focused on the distribution of service benefits and spheres that require travel to infrastructure that is spatially fixed (Stanley et al. 2016, 123). This typically includes assembly spaces, ritual-religious facilities, and commercial spaces (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 144). Thus, while quantity and quality of available resources and services may be more important for mobility equity than location alone, such variables are typically not considered due to a lack of data (Stanley et al. 2016, 123).

Access patterns can reveal differences in important concerns and incentives for choice in house location, as is the case at, for example, Actuncan, Belize, where the elite were located close to important sacred locations, while commoners lived close to the aguada, reflecting differences in their daily lives and occupations (LeCount et al. 2019). Mobility studies can thus help to identify and characterize social structures and how they may have been produced and reproduced in ancient urban centers. For example, studies of urban space and its relation to mobility have shown that in societies where services are typically provided by major institutions in a “top-down” structure, as is the case in many modern societies, access to services for people along the socio-economic spectrum and throughout neighborhoods differs from that in cities where many services are provided through “bottom-up” 41

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands mechanisms by individual households or neighborhoods, as was documented for some pre-modern cities (Stanley et al. 2016, 123). Quantitative measures of intra-site mobility not only allow for comparative analysis between cities, but may also offer empirical strength theories of state formation, organization, and change that consider social integration and access to resources as a determining factor (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 373).

patterns that aren’t dominated by street networks, but rather by extensive open spaces with the urban core being spread out over large areas, environmental features and agrarian practices strongly influence movement within the settlement (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 366). Studies have shown that urban density affects mobility and measures of access (Stanley et al. 2016, 138). This means that any study of movement within a dispersed Classic Maya settlement, such as Uxul, needs to incorporate cost parameters such as topography, hydrology, and land cover, factors which are not typically included in traditional analyses of movement in urban environments that are more densely built and clearly organized in street networks (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 366).

Modern studies on urban planning typically consider 400 to 800 meters to be the threshold for “walkability”, beyond which distance people generally don’t consider walking as a good option to get to their destination, and tend to either choose a different form of transport or not to travel to a particular destination at all (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155; Stanley et al. 2016, 130; The Institution of Highways & Transportation 2000, 49). However, in many pre-modern societies walking would have been the primary form of movement within urban environments (Stanley et al. 2016, 130). This is particularly true in the case of ancient American societies, as there were no large draft animals such as horses, donkeys, or oxen that could be ridden or pull carriages, meaning that the only possible method of transportation would have been on foot. Walkability ranges must have been much wider than in modern cities (Stanley et al. 2016, 130), especially in widespread dispersed Classic Maya cities where people would have had no choice but to walk in order to access essential resources. What distance is considered to be within walkability range is culture-dependent.

To account for such factors, Richards-Rissetto and Landau (2014) have proposed a least-cost analysis approach using GIS. This approach is based on Zipf’s Principle of Least Effort, which assumes that people tend to economize their behavior whenever possible, in the case of mobility by following paths that take the least amount of energy or time to traverse (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 366). In this approach, GIS software identifies the route(s) with the lowest accumulated cost(s) based on user-defined cost parameters. The average value of all least-cost paths to or from a location corresponds to an integration value, where locations with higher average path-costs are costlier to reach, less likely to have people travel through them, and less well integrated into the settlement than locations with lower average path-costs (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 366). Thus, using mobility patterns as a proxy for potential accessibility of the households of Uxul, this methodology provides data on degrees of social integration and connectivity, allowing us to answer questions such as “Are certain groups more or less integrated in or segregated from society as a whole? Who is likely to interact with whom? Who has easy access to what goods and services?”

While much archaeological research has been concerned with where ancient people built their houses, ritual structures, and civic-ceremonial centers, consideration of movement among such features has been sparser, in particular as related to movement within urban landscapes (Cuijpers 2016, 36; Murrieta-Flores 2010, 249; RichardsRissetto and Landau 2014; Stanley et al. 2016). In particular for Classic Maya urban centers, because of the absence of formal street networks, research has focused on specific architectural forms, but little is known about patterns of movement, how people may have physically interacted, social connectivity between people of different socio-economic classes, and social inequality (RichardsRissetto and Landau 2014, 366). Most often in archaeology, proximities are calculated by using Euclidean distances (straight lines), Manhattan distance (travel on right-angled blocks), or street network distance (Stanley et al. 2016, 123), none of which are approaches that are appropriate for Maya dispersed urban spaces which lack formal streets and integrate natural landscape features. The development in particular of Geographic Information Systems (GIS) has made approaches taking into account features of the urban landscape more accessible (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 144; Kosiba and Bauer 2013; Murrieta-Flores 2010, 250).

Because this is a very econometric approach, based strongly on the simplistic assumption that humans act in energetically efficient ways, that does not reflect reality, it should be noted that the least cost paths calculated using this principle are not meant to strictly represent the reality of ancient paths in ancient urban landscapes. Econometric approaches such as these provide sound foundational evidence that can then be tested with, and related to, additional archaeological data, but they do not represent a complete and accurate rendering of political agendas and cultural values that underpin settlement systems. It is unlikely that ancient people planned cities solely according to energy-reduction principles, and many other factors may well have influenced the layout of actual path networks. However, time is a critical factor in movement across any urban landscape, meaning it is likely that populations would in the course of daily routines have, to some degree, optimized their mobility with regard to time (RichardsRissetto and Landau 2014, 366). Thus, the approach calculates the most likely paths that people would have

In urban landscapes such as those of the Classic Maya, with dispersed and clustered housing and informal settlement 42

Theory and Methods used (although they may not represent actual paths) and approximates the amount of time it would have taken people to walk them. The factors that affect movement between places in a landscape, together with people’s socio-cultural backgrounds, shape mobility patterns that represent spatial expressions of difference, or “geographies of difference”, which structure and reflect potential interactions, relationships, and social (in) equalities (Kosiba and Bauer 2013; Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 366). Such research relates spatial organization, mobility, and social integration at an urban scale, by focusing on the relationship between social inequality, social integration, and access to resources, public spaces, and state-sponsored events (RichardsRissetto and Landau 2014, 367). The guiding principle that this analysis is based on is that large differences in travel cost between different places suggest that the way the settlement was organized fostered and reflected inequality, while small differences in travel costs between different places might imply greater equality or less structural differences between social classes (RichardsRissetto and Landau 2014, 368).

houses and house groups that are separated by forests, gardens, or agricultural areas (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 150; Lemonnier 2012; Smith 2011). Such neighborhoods can often be identified on the basis of visual or spatial cluster analysis (Hutson 2016, 73; Smith 2010). This was the case for example in Tikal, where K-means cluster analysis was successfully applied to identify neighborhood level groups of households (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 150). In the Copan valley, residential clusters separated by natural drainage ditches were found to resemble ethnographic neighborhoods of the Chorti Maya of mid-twentieth-century Honduras (Fash 1983). Mapping at Dzibilchaltun similarly made it possible to visually identify clearly separated clusters of households which, although they varied significantly in size, would have served as neighborhoods (Hutson 2016, 74–75). An advantage of such methods is that they rely on the physical coordinates of households, making analysis blind to differences of status, and allowing for clusters to be identified without assumptions of socio-economic homogeneity (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 150). However, this type of methodology is not effective in all Maya cities (Hutson 2016, 78), as it tends not to work in more continuously dispersed urban centers (such as Uxul). In many cases, neighborhood limits would have been blurred even to the residents of these cities, and when spatial clustering is not obvious, it means that a method using spatial clustering may force houses into clusters based on arbitrarily chosen parameters, making it more likely to yield boundaries that are at odds with those that past inhabitants recognized (Hutson 2016, 78).

The specific parameters and tools used for the application of least-cost path analysis in Uxul are discussed in Chapter 4: Wealth inequality. 2.2.3.2.2. Identifying and characterizing Maya neighborhoods Although the concept of neighborhood provides a useful framework for the study of cities and towns, it must be noted that it applies explicitly to urban contexts (Arnauld et al. 2012, 203; Smith and Novic 2012). The rural/ urban dichotomy, however, was different in pre-Hispanic Mesoamerica from what it is in the Western tradition, meaning that the same concepts may not be directly applicable to Mesoamerican cases, in particular for the dispersed urban centers of the Maya Lowlands (Arnauld et al. 2012, 203). It can be argued, however, that the difference is one of degree, more than of nature, and intermediate units may still be considered as localized communities created by face-to-face interactions and bottom-up local processes equivalent to urban neighborhoods (Arnauld et al. 2012, 204).

There are other methods, however, that have proved useful in identifying Maya neighborhoods. For example, they can sometimes be identified archaeologically in and around Maya Lowland cities in the form of divisions that are characterized by repetitive architectural forms (Arnauld et al. 2012, 204). The replication of certain architectural traits in dispersed specialized-function buildings allows the identification of civic-ceremonial centers, a pattern to which the concept of district easily applies (Arnauld et al. 2012, 204). However, the civicceremonial center category typically overlaps with the elite palace compound (Arnauld et al. 2012, 204), meaning that public and residential contexts are embedded and not easily distinguished. The additional conceptualization of the palace complex as both the seat of political power, fulfilling an important role as a public political location, and at the same time as clearly domestic and residential in function further blurs the distinction between public and private spheres (Arnauld et al. 2012, 204). Furthermore, when embedded in residential contexts, buildings that are typically defined as public or collective components, such as ceremonial structures, can be seen rather as the expression of social hierarchy (Arnauld et al. 2012, 204). The existence of ceremonial structures within otherwise residential household groups outside of the civicceremonial center further supports this lack of a clear distinction between public and private spheres, meaning

The identification of neighborhoods within Maya urban centers is generally problematic. Because of the absence of street networks, traditional spatial pattern approaches tend not to be successful in delineating neighborhoods. There are cases, however, where the identification of footpaths or streets allowed to study the way transportation features may have funneled people living nearby into the same routes, thus creating patterns of interaction (Hutson 2016, 78). This was the case, for example, at Chunchucmil (Hutson and Welch 2016) and possibly Mayapan (Hare and Masson 2012). Neighborhoods in low-density tropical cities such as those of the Maya tend to correspond to clusters of 43

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands that the concept of district may not be directly applicable to Lowland Maya urban centers.

Uxul through the use of social network visualization are discussed in 5.2 Neighborhoods in Uxul.

Furthermore, Classic Maya neighborhoods often appear to be similar from one settlement segment to another. In cities that do not show a clear concentric layout or a clear separation between neighborhoods on the basis of neighborhood specialization, as is the case for many dispersed Maya cities including Uxul, each part tends to reflect the heterogeneity and diversity of the whole urban center (Arnauld et al. 2012, 205). This means that the distribution of artifact categories is sometimes not an appropriate approach to the archaeological differentiation of neighborhoods in Classic Maya cities (Arnauld et al. 2012, 205). Instead, neighborhoods are better identified on the basis of face-to-face interaction and day-to-day socio-economic relationships, reflected in, for example, the sharing of resources and activities in house construction and agriculture (Arnauld et al. 2012, 205). Furthermore, spatial and socio-economic association means that some trend towards localized nucleation and the building of internal hierarchies through time should be identifiable (Arnauld et al. 2012, 205).

2.3. Methodological tools 2.3.1. Geographic Information Systems (GIS) Much, if not all, data recorded by archaeologists is spatial in nature, or at least has an important spatial component (Conolly and Lake 2006; Wheatly and Gillings 2002, 3). Archaeological research typically deals with enormous amounts of spatial data, ranging from the geographical location of archaeological sites to the positions of individual artifacts within excavation contexts (Wheatly and Gillings 2002, 3). Not only the individual position of the features or artifacts themselves are of importance, however, as it is the relationships between their locations, revealed by significant patterns and arrangements relative to other features and artifacts, which yield the most indepth information about past societies (Wheatly and Gillings 2002, 3). In order to analyze such spatial data, geographic information systems (GIS) are typically used as a “spatial toolbox”, comprising several different software technologies and methods (Conolly and Lake 2006; Wheatly and Gillings 2002, 9).

Since a key definition of a neighborhood refers to the potential for face-to-face interactions between its inhabitants on a daily basis (Smith 2011, 65; Smith and Novic 2012, 4) I propose that this concept can be used to identify neighborhoods in low-density settings where a simple cluster analysis does not yield significant results. Because of the important role of the natural landscape in dispersed Maya cities, simple Euclidean distance may not reveal significant barriers, such as differences in elevation or obstacles that need to be avoided, that would have greatly influenced the ability of people from different parts of a city to interact with each other. Therefore, I propose that walking times between households can be used as a way to identify significant groupings of households in cases where these are not otherwise easily visible. This method is based on the same principle as the identification of neighborhoods on the basis of their spatial isolation, except that it uses realworld estimated walking times as a measure of distance rather than Euclidean distance. Walking times between households can then be visualized as a social network, revealing groupings of households that had significant potential for daily face-to-face interactions. Similar to cluster analysis approaches, this method is independent from socio-economic status considerations, allowing for an identification of neighborhoods solely on the basis of potential day-to-day interactions, instead of on other social characteristics. This method has the advantage that it combines both the physical aspect of neighborhood delineation (patterns in the use of space) and the social aspect that defines a neighborhood (the potential for faceto-face interactions).

Space is constructed and shaped by social actions, and in turn serves to construct and shape the social actions taking place there (Rapoport 1994; Wheatly and Gillings 2002, 8). Space should not be conceived of as a neutral container for human action, but instead as a meaningful medium for it (Wheatly and Gillings 2002, 8). Factors such as perception, movement, and behavior cannot be separated from the space they are set in, and they need to be studied together in order to be understood as social and cultural phenomena (Ingold 1986, 147; Rapoport 1994; Wheatly and Gillings 2002, 8). Space is a meaningful medium that is socially constructed, and within which actions are embedded, constituted in different ways, and constantly evolving (Rapoport 1994; Wheatly and Gillings 2002, 10). Space syntax is a body of techniques and theories based on GIS applications, that seeks to understand how society and space are mutually constituted (Morton et al. 2012, 390). It is based on the idea that material conditions such as architecture and space play a role in constituting the structures that pattern practice and human interactions, and therefore community (Morton et al. 2012, 390). The spatial organization of settlements and landscapes reflects and shapes life in urban environments (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 365). Therefore, such an approach can help answer questions addressing the effect of the built environment on human beings, how it may have been perceived at the time it was in use, and whether this can tell us something about the functional frame and the social milieu it generated (Hohmann-Vogrin 2005, 282). Space syntax approaches rely on an interactional conception of the community, positing three spatial laws related to integration (Morton et al. 2012, 390):

The specific parameters and tools used for the identification, delineation, and characterization of neighborhoods in 44

Theory and Methods 2011, 2012, 2013). They mapped the Uxul landscape, identified archaeological features, and determined their spatial limits. The coordinate system used for mapping in Uxul was developed for the specific purposes of the Uxul project, with the 0-point located some 3600 m south and 1000 m west of the site, so that the mapping area is located between 3950 and 6300 m north and 1000 and 2750 m east (Reichel and Volta 2015). The mapping area includes 3.8 km2 of the site (Grube and Delvendahl 2015b, iii). Based on the data gathered, Beniamino Volta and Iken Paap created a digital elevation model (DEM) of the mapping area of the site. Furthermore, the spatial coordinates of structures, quarries, ancient roads, water reservoirs, and other features were also recorded with Total Station. These maps and spatial data form the basis for any spatial analysis performed throughout this research. All spatial analyses relying on GIS were performed using ESRI© ArcGIS 10.4 software. The specific parameters and tools used are discussed where relevant in the chapters relating to their analysis.

• The law of natural movement states that the degree of integration of a space can be used as a predictor for how connected or isolated (busy vs. quiet) that space will be: more integrated spaces will be busier • The law of virtual community assumes that, as a byproduct of natural movement, communities can be formed based on a pattern of co-awareness and copresence. It should, however, be noted that co-present people are not a community by definition based solely on their presence in the same space, but rather that copresence fosters the social interaction necessary for the constitution of community • The law of movement economy asserts that highly integrated spaces, by encouraging relatively high levels of co-presence (as posited by the law of natural movement), in turn foster activities and institutions for which such co-presence is desirable. The activities and institutions attracted to these spaces, the people with whom they interact, and the circumstances dictating this interaction all serve to influence the particular types and scales of communities that are created

2.3.2. Social network analysis (SNA)

This means that, when using space syntax, it is assumed that there is a one-to-one relationship between accessibility and social integration: if a space is easily accessible, it is also highly integrated with city-wide economic and social structures (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 366). Areas that are highly integrated are expected to foster high levels of co-presence, and through social interaction foster a great number of people to be united under a single community identity, meaning that central spaces would be the most effective loci for the transmission of a unified ideology (Morton et al. 2012, 390; Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 366). Areas with a lesser degree of integration would, on the other hand, suggest the formation of communities on smaller scales, or sub-communities, acting within a nested community structure (Morton et al. 2012, 390). Areas of very low integration, by encouraging the least amount of social interaction, are capable of producing very exclusive communities within the overall social structure (Morton et al. 2012, 391). An analysis of integration values for different areas can provide indications for the more public or more private character of specific areas and whether they were designed to be accessible to everybody or to a minority (Hohmann-Vogrin 2005, 287). This provides a helpful tool for determining the function of a space (Hohmann-Vogrin 2005, 287; Morton et al. 2012, 390–91).

Network approaches to the study of the ancient past have become more and more prevalent in recent years (Mills 2017, 380). They draw on literature and methods that cross-cut diverse fields of study, including computer sciences, physics, life sciences, digital humanities, social sciences, etc. (Brughmans 2013, 624; Golitko, Feinman, and Nicholas 2019, 1; Knappett 2013; Mills 2017, 380). Network analysis is characterized by the examination of the relational structure of a system of actors, and the patterns that emerge from the relationships between actors, rather than of the intrinsic properties of the actors themselves (Brughmans 2013, 625; Golitko, Feinman, and Nicholas 2019, 1; Mills 2017, 380). Network-based approaches are predicated on the assumption that the relationships between entities matter. Entities cannot be understood independently of the connected whole, and their relationships should be examined explicitly in order to understand their behavior: the whole is greater than the sum of its parts (Brughmans 2013, 625). One of the most fundamental questions considered in network analysis is “how does individual behavior aggregate to collective behavior?” (Brughmans 2013, 625; Watts 2003, 24). Network analysis allows us to bridge the gap between the reductionist study of parts, and the constructionist study of the related whole (Brughmans 2013, 625). Archaeological applications of network-based approaches typically draw on social network analysis (SNA) which was developed in the fields of social and behavioral sciences (Brughmans 2013, 632; Mills 2017, 380). The basic premise of SNA is that it provides a representation of the relationships between entities or actors (nodes of the network) through their connections or ties (edges of the network) (Mills 2017, 383). The ties between these nodes may represent different kinds of social relations between the nodes (Knappett 2013, 3; Mills 2017, 380).

In the present research project, I use GIS and space syntax approaches in order to study settlement patterns, mobility patterns, and domestic construction volumes in Uxul. These GIS applications are based on the data gathered using a Total Station (Sokkia SET-600 and Sokkia SET5X) throughout the field project at Uxul by Margit Dauner, Iken Paap, Antonio Benavides, Marco Gross, Nicolaus Seefeld, Sven Bayer, Beniamino Volta, and Janko Reichel (Grube and Paap 2007, 2008, 2009; Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010; Reichel and Volta 2015; Volta 45

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands There are four main principles on which SNA applications are based (Brughmans 2013, 632–33; Wasserman and Faust 1994, 4):

(Golitko, Feinman, and Nicholas 2019, 8). Inherently, this means that some of the data structure is lost, and choices that influence the visualization of the network must be made to ensure the most effective way of displaying data for the intended goal (Golitko, Feinman, and Nicholas 2019, 8).

• Actors and their actions are interdependent rather than independent autonomous units • Relational ties between actors are channels for the transfer of resources (material or non-material) • Network models that focus on individuals or social units view the network structural environment as providing opportunities for or constraints on individual action • Network models conceptualize structure (e.g. social, economic, political, etc.) as lasting patterns of relations among actors

Several types of visualization are possible, including options for multi-dimensional scaling, principal components analysis, and Gower scaling (Golitko, Feinman, and Nicholas 2019, 8). One of the most used visualization tools for the analysis of social networks in archaeology, however, is spring-embedding or stress-minimization. This is a method of force-directed placement in which the links connecting the nodes behave like a physical set of springs, resulting in a layout that is generated by mathematically minimizing the total stress force in the system (Golitko, Feinman, and Nicholas 2019, 8). Simply put, this means that edges represent weighted links, where stronger connections between nodes are represented by shorter edges, while weaker connections are shown as longer edges, i.e. nodes that are better connected to each other are physically represented to be close to each other, while nodes with a weaker connection are further apart. The structure of the resulting visualized network is strongly dependent on the type of edge that is selected, and it is sometimes necessary (for example, when edges represent distance or similarity between nodes, rather than binary ties) to define a threshold for which edges are shown or not in order to display meaningful structures (Golitko, Feinman, and Nicholas 2019, 8). Such threshold choices are to a degree arbitrary, as they eliminate noise but also potentially obscure significant connections, and they need to be adapted to the specific research questions being investigated.

SNA is concerned primarily with exploring social relationships as media for the flow of ideas and resources between individuals, corporations, or communities (Brughmans 2013, 633). The analysis of social entities in a network perspective is used to approach a wide range of research questions in social and behavioral sciences, relating to topics such as the diffusion and adaptation of innovations, belief systems, markets, exchange and power, and occupational mobility (Brughmans 2013, 633). In order to perform SNA and provide a visualization of a given network, the boundaries of the network, and what constitutes a tie must be defined. In archaeology, nodes can represent entities on any scale, including individuals, households, communities, settlements, states, etc. (Knappett 2013, 6). Evidence of ties may include, for example, shared spatial, material, biological, or ideological connections between nodes which can be quantified (Mills 2017, 383). Concretely, in order to perform archaeological network analysis, a past phenomenon of interest must first be identified (such as economic relationships between households or settlements), it must then be abstracted to a proxy for such a phenomenon (such as the flow of goods), and that abstraction must then be quantified and converted into actual network data (such as the items shown to have been exchanged between each pair of nodes) (Mills 2017, 384).

The general field of SNA typically provides two complementary ways to characterize network properties: the position of individual nodes and overall network structure (Mills 2017, 382). The position of a node refers to how the location of an individual node within a network influences the behavior and future of that node. For example, a node that is positioned between two otherwise unconnected nodes enhances access to information and resources from other parts of the network through the concept of brokerage (Mills 2017, 382). The concept of centrality or integration is another example of how node position can be studied. Simply put, this concept refers to measures such as how easy it is to reach a given node (closeness) and the number of times a node acts as a bridge between other nodes (betweenness) (Brughmans 2013, 636; Weidele and Brughmans 2015, 34). Such measures allow for the identification of key actors in a network as nodes that have better access to information, as well as better opportunities to spread that information because of their central position in a network or their role as a necessary go-between (Brughmans 2013, 636). This allows for an analysis of different ways in which the social prominence of an actor may (or may not) result from a structural prominence in the network (Golitko, Feinman,

Network visualization is an important component in the analysis of network structures, typically representing networks as a set of points and lines (Brughmans 2013, 626). Depending on the research questions and aims of the network analysis, nodes can represent any discrete unit, while links represent relationships between these nodes (Brughmans 2013, 627). These relationships can either be directed (pointing from a sending node to a receiving node, these are called arcs) or undirected (linking two nodes symmetrically, these are called edges) (Brughmans 2013, 627). Relationships can be weighted, meaning that they have a quantifiable value that refers to an attribute of the tie (for example, the physical distance between two points) or binary (the presence or absence of a specific type of relationship, such as road between two points). Network visualizations serve to summarize data for their visual display onto two axes through multivariate data reduction 46

Theory and Methods and Nicholas 2019, 9; Mills 2017, 382). In social sciences, the application of centrality often draws on Bourdieu’s (1986) concept of capital, as defined in terms of, for example, economic, social, cultural, and symbolic forms (Mills 2017, 382). Theories of overall network structure, on the other hand, focus on attributes of the network as a whole (Mills 2017, 382). This includes concepts such as the density of ties or cohesion, the presence of subgroups or components, the extent to which node properties conform to scale-free or power-law distributions, and how random ties may produce “small worlds” (Mills 2017, 382).

being bombarded with high-energy X-rays. An X-ray spectrometer generates an X-ray beam that interacts with a target sample, causing the atoms in the sample to fluoresce (Goodale et al. 2012, 876). The atoms emit a broad spectrum of X-rays (Brehmstrahlung), and well-defined peaks (line spectrum), both of which are characteristic of the individual atoms included in the sample (Goodale et al. 2012, 876). The X-ray spectrometer registers these fluorescent X-rays, and because of the relationship between X-ray wavelength and energy, these can be discriminated and used to identify the element in question (Goodale et al. 2012, 876). Peak intensities that are related to element concentration are then used to calculate element concentration in parts per million (ppm) through machine and mathematical calibrations (Goodale et al. 2012, 876). In this way the chemical composition of a sample can be determined, providing information about its nature and origins.

These overarching theories of social networks provide models of how relational worlds work, and have been applied to a range of archaeological research questions, including questions of the diffusion of ideas and innovations, social movements, identity, migration, political centralization and the development of hierarchies, etc. (Mills 2017, 383). It should be noted that formal network analyses reveal the structure of the data that is used as input as a proxy, rather than the structure of the actual community that is studied (Mills 2017, 384). That is to say that they are susceptible, like any other quantitative analyses used in archaeology, to problems of incomplete sampling and formation processes (Mills 2017, 384). Such biases should be taken into account, and, where possible, be compensated for, in order to obtain meaningful data for the research questions at hand.

Over the last few decades, as the technology developed rapidly, archaeologists have started adopting portable X-ray fluorescence as a methodological tool for archaeological investigation into the chemical analysis of a multitude of materials, including stone, obsidian, ceramics, paints and slips, sediments, etc. (Forster et al. 2011; Frahm and Doonan 2013, 1425; Goodale et al. 2012, 875; Shackley 2012, 1; Tykot et al. 2013; Tykot 2016). The advantage of pXRF over other methods of chemical analysis (such as regular XRF, NAA, ICP-MS, etc.) is that analyses are rapid, easy to perform, relatively low-cost, and nondestructive (Shackley 2012, 1). Laboratory-based XRF has been a staple of archaeological chemical analysis since the 1960s, and it is unsurprising, then, that its portable counterpart has readily been adopted by archaeologists (Frahm and Doonan 2013, 1426). Handheld pXRF spectrometers in particular, capable of being brought into the field and used instantly and non-destructively, have recently found great interest in archaeological research (Frahm and Doonan 2013, 1426; Tykot 2016). The use of pXRF to obtain large samples of source attributions shows significant research potential because it combines the portability, non-destructiveness, rapidity, and economy of visual identification with the reliability and reproducibility of instrumental analysis (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 93).

In the present research, I use SNA to study questions of intra-site mobility and social integration in Uxul, the identification of neighborhoods, as well as to study the place of Uxul in the wider long-distance trade network of obsidian. All social network analyses and visualizations are performed with the SNA software Visone. The specific parameters and tools used are discussed where relevant in the chapters relating to their analysis. 2.3.3. Portable X-ray fluorescence (pXRF) Many different methods of chemical composition analysis have been used in archaeology in order to study the specific chemical composition of archaeological artifacts and identify the source of their geological components (Tykot 2016, 42). The most popular of these include optical emission spectroscopy (OES), atomic absorption spectroscopy (AAS), neutron activation analysis (INAA), electron microprobe (EPMA), scanning electron microscope (SEM), inductively coupled plasma-optical emission spectroscopy (ICP-OES), laser ablation ICP mass spectrometry, and X-ray fluorescence spectrometry (XRF) (Tykot 2016, 42). It is this last method that is of interest here, in particular the use of a handheld portable X-ray fluorescence spectrometer (pXRF), as it was used in the present research project for the analysis of the chemical composition and sources of obsidian and ceramic materials in Uxul.

While there are many advantages to the use of pXRF over lab-based methods, there are also a few drawbacks. Indeed, in order to make XRF technology portable, light, and battery-powered in order to be used as a handheld device in the field, performance needed to be somewhat sacrificed for the sake of hardware miniaturization (Frahm and Doonan 2013, 1426). The main sacrifice of pXRF spectrometers is the need for miniaturized, low-power components, resulting in a number of limitations in the chemical analysis capabilities of the machine (Frahm and Doonan 2013, 1426). First, in order to perform successful analysis using pXRF, there is a lower limit to sample sizes. Because of the way pXRF instruments are built, samples smaller than 10 mm in diameter and 2 mm thick will yield less accurate results (although smaller samples can still be

X-ray fluorescence designates the emission of fluorescent X-rays from a material that has been excited by 47

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands analyzed with decreasing levels of accuracy) (Shackley 2012, 1; Tykot 2016, 42). Furthermore, pXRF, because it is non-destructive, is capable of detecting fewer elements than its destructive counterparts, especially affecting light elements with low atomic numbers (specifically those with an atomic number lower than 26 (Fe)) (Aimers, Farthing, and Shugar 2012; Emmitt et al. 2018, 423; Forster et al. 2011, 392; Shackley 2012, 1; Speakman et al. 2011, 3484; Tykot et al. 2013). Very low concentrations of elements (especially light ones), which can be useful in discriminating sources by trace elements, can be missed, further affecting the accuracy of the method (Shackley 2012, 1–2). However, any method of sourcing or chemical analysis presents its own problems and drawbacks, and any issues of accuracy, standardization, and protocols raised for pXRF are no different from those raised for other methods (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 93). As long as methods are adapted to research questions and potential issues are taken into account, the method offers an effective, rapid, non-destructive, and cost-effective means of analyzing large collections of artifacts.

Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013; Speakman et al. 2011; Stroth et al. 2019; Tanasi et al. 2017; Tykot et al. 2013). The goal of the analysis of the chemical composition of obsidian artifacts was to identify the sources of obsidian present in Uxul, and study the distribution of obsidian from different sources among households of different socio-economic statuses in order to understand their participation in local exchange networks. Furthermore, the results of this analysis were used to better understand the role and place of Uxul in the wider regional obsidian exchange network during the Late Classic period. A sample of Late Classic ceramic sherds of different stylistic types was chemically analyzed in order to differentiate between the sources of these ceramics. While there was no available reference collection to compare the Uxul samples with, meaning that their actual point of origin could not be determined, individual sources can be chemically distinguished from each other. This allows for a study of the nature of production sites and their possible specialization in certain types of ceramics. Furthermore, the goal of this analysis was to study the participation of households along the socio-economic spectrum in common exchange networks, and identify possible patterns in access to different sources of ceramics. The specific parameters, sampling methods, calibrations, and protocols used for these pXRF approaches, as well as any issues or particularities related to their application to different materials, are discussed where relevant in the chapters relating to their analysis.

Because the relationship between the intensity of the characteristic X-ray emission of an element and its concentrations within a given material is not simple, calibrations are key in the analysis of any material (Frahm and Doonan 2013, 1427; Tykot 2016). Various effects occurring within a material can change the intensities measured, such as the excitation of lighter elements by X-rays that are emitted from heavier elements (Frahm and Doonan 2013, 1427). To account for such distortions, analysts need to use a series of coefficients to correct the X-ray measurements obtained, using “matrix-matched” calibrations (Frahm and Doonan 2013, 1427). This means that prior knowledge of the measured material’s approximate composition is needed, in order to produce a calibration that provides useful results for the given material (Frahm and Doonan 2013, 1427). For some materials, for example for homogeneous geological materials and metals, pXRF manufacturers provide standard calibrations that have been developed through extensive industry use and development (Frahm and Doonan 2013, 1427). In other cases, when materials fall outside of the categories typically included in standard calibration packages, such as ceramics, archaeologists develop custom calibrations that are adapted to the materials in question (see for example Helfert 2013; Helfert and Böhme 2010).

pXRF spectrometry was selected as the method of choice for the chemical analysis of archaeological materials here (obsidian and ceramics specifically) for several reasons, including practical, financial, and analytical ones. First, the artifacts that were examined were stored in two locations in the state of Campeche, Mexico. The first location was the project storage facility in the INAH facilities at the archaeological site of Edzná, the second was the project lab-house in Consitución. Both of these locations are relatively remote and difficult to access and offer only basic local facilities. A handheld device, then, enabled us to perform analysis in both of these locations easily and without the need to transport large numbers of artifacts to a location with lab-based machines (which would have presented both logistical and administrative difficulties, the transport of archaeological artifacts necessitating special official permissions).

In the present research project, a handheld pXRF spectrometer (‘Thermo Scientific Niton XL3t Goldd+’ pXRF analyzer (50 kV/2W/100μA maximum)) was used in order to analyze the chemical composition of samples of the obsidian and ceramic materials from Uxul. Both of these materials have been successfully analyzed in archaeology using pXRF devices, indicating that this type of analysis is capable of yielding useful analytical results (see for example Aimers, Farthing, and Shugar 2012; Braswell 2013; Emmitt et al. 2018; Forster et al. 2011; Frahm and Doonan 2013, 1430–31; Helfert 2013; Helfert and Böhme 2010; Meierhoff, Golitko, and Morris 2010;

The second important reason for choosing pXRF over other methods is that it is non-destructive. When working with archaeological artifacts, which are by definition scarce and unique, the goal should be to preserve their integrity as much as possible, both for their preservation as physical heritage objects, and so that future analysis can be performed on them using new techniques or in order to obtain new insights. Therefore, destructive analysis should only be performed on archaeological artifacts when the analytical importance outweighs the importance of the physical integrity of the object, and there are no practical 48

Theory and Methods alternatives available. In the case of the present research, because pXRF spectrometry has been proven to yield good and useful results for the chemical analysis of both obsidian (Braswell 2013; Meierhoff, Golitko, and Morris 2010; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013; Stroth et al. 2019) and ceramic (Aimers, Farthing, and Shugar 2012; Emmitt et al. 2018; Forster et al. 2011; Helfert 2013; Helfert and Böhme 2010; Speakman et al. 2011; Tanasi et al. 2017; Tykot et al. 2013) archaeological materials, destructive chemical analysis was not necessary. Furthermore, since the goal of the present research was to detect general trends in the distribution of artifacts from different sources, rather than the detailed analysis of individual pieces, the possibility of sporadic unique chemical compositions being obscured due to the lower accuracy of the miniaturized handheld device over tabletop ones was considered acceptable, as such outliers do not majorly affect patterns of distribution. So the analytical results yielded by portable XRF spectrometry were adapted to the present research, and destructive analysis would not have been justified in this case for a minor potential increase in analytical accuracy.

familiar with the methodological and interpretive issues involved (Aimers, Farthing, and Shugar 2012, 430; Frahm and Doonan 2013; Shackley 2010, 2012; Speakman et al. 2011, 3483; Tanasi et al. 2017, 223). In the interest of clarity, it should be noted that this is the case to a certain extent for the current study as well, since, while I have done due diligence in familiarizing myself as much as possible with the principles and issues involved in using a portable XRF spectrometer, I do not have a background in advanced chemistry, physics, or regarding the technique itself. In order to compensate for this, and make sure that methodological issues were avoided, all pXRF measurements in the current study were performed by Arne Schröder from the University of Cologne, Germany, who has received extensive training in the use of the pXRF spectrometer used here, and had ample experience with the study of archaeological ceramics using pXRF. Furthermore, calibrations were used that were developed by Helfert and Böhme (see Helfert 2013; Helfert and Böhme 2010) for the analysis of the chemical composition of archaeological ceramics, instead of machine-proper calibrations that were developed for the analysis of different types of materials. In order to make sure that interpretive issues were minimized, I was assisted in my interpretations by Lars Heinze (University of Cologne, Germany), who has specialized in the interpretation of the chemical analysis of ancient ceramics using pXRF, and made sure that my analysis did not contain major methodological and interpretive errors. Thus, while I am responsible for the final interpretations (and any possible errors therein) of the data obtained using pXRF for the present research, the support of the team from the Archaeological Institute from the University of Cologne helped to make sure that the final results are methodologically and interpretatively sound.

Finally, a third reason for choosing pXRF spectrometry over lab-based techniques was related to cost and availability. The present pXRF analysis was funded in its entirety by the Research Training Group “Archaeology of Premodern Economies” at the Universities of Bonn and Cologne, Germany, itself funded by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (DFG). Funds, however, were limited, and the use of lab-based chemical analysis techniques would have either been much more expensive for the same number of samples, or would have had to be limited to a much lower number of samples. Furthermore, the fact that chemical analysis using a pXRF spectrometer is much less time-consuming than lab-based techniques also allows for lower costs in terms of labor, and consequently a higher number of artifacts analyzed. Additionally, the Archaeological Institute at the University of Cologne, which the present research project was affiliated with, owned a handheld pXRF spectrometer (a ‘Thermo Scientific Niton XL3t Goldd+’ pXRF analyzer (50 kV/2W/100μA maximum)), and made it available for the goals of this research, further facilitating the performance of the analysis and driving down its costs. Importantly, specialists on the performance and analysis of pXRFbased approaches were able to help with both the technical aspects of the measurements themselves (operation of the device, proper calibrations, protocols, etc.) as well as with the subsequent analysis of the results. Overall, the higher costs and added logistical difficulties associated with labbased analysis, as well as its destructive nature, would not have been justified for the analytical purposes, discussed above, of the present research. The use of a handheld pXRF device was ideal, both in terms of logistics and analytical capabilities, for the present research. One of the main criticisms of the use of portable XRF in the study of archaeological materials has been that because it is relatively cheap and fast to use, the technology has quickly been embraced by people who are not adequately 49

3 Uxul: The Site and its Data The archaeological site of Uxul is located in the extreme south of the Mexican state of Campeche, 4 km north of the border between Mexico and Guatemala and 34 km to the southwest of Calakmul, within the Calakmul Biosphere Reserve (Grube et al. 2012, 13; Grube and Delvendahl 2015a, 1). It is situated within what is commonly referred to as the Central Maya Lowlands, or the Petén Campechano, an area that is home to some of the most flourishing and largest Preclassic and Classic Maya cities ever built (Braswell 2013, 151; Grube et al. 2012, 14).

jungle to the south and the subtropical steppes to the north (Grube and Delvendahl 2015a, 1). Uxul is located on the western side of the karstic ridge that runs from northern Petén, Guatemala, into eastern Campeche, Mexico (Grube et al. 2012, 14). The region is characterized by alternating limestone hills and seasonally inundated bajos (Grube et al. 2012, 14; Grube and Delvendahl 2015a, 2). The settlement itself was built on elevated terrain, spread out over a group of adjacent hilltops or mesetas, with elevations between 250 and 270 meters above sea level (see Figure 3.1). These mesetas are about 30 meters higher than the large surrounding bajo (Grube et al. 2012, 14). The relatively flat mesetas are cut by several erosion channels or corrientales that drain towards the low-lying areas (Grube et al. 2012, 14).

The Central Lowlands, extending over the northern part of the Guatemalan Petén region, the southern part of the Mexican Campeche region, and most of Belize, formed the transition between the humid Southern Lowlands and the drier Northern Lowlands. The area is characterized by a warm subtropical climate, with heavy rains in summer and a dry season during the winter months (Grube and Delvendahl 2015a). Because of the geology of the area, characterized by large areas of karst formation, permanent water sources are rare here during dry seasons (Grube 2001b, 25–26). Lakes exist here and there, as well as some rivers to the east (such as the Hondo and the Belize rivers), but the hydrology in the region is typified mainly by numerous and widespread seasonal floodplains and marshes filled by the seasonal rains (Houston and Inomata 2009, 6). These areas would have provided both water and sources of food (such as fish, tortoise, and lizards), as well as mud for construction and they would have served as the principal communication routes between sites (Grube and Delvendahl 2015a). Although nowadays these bajos are flooded only during the rainy season, it is possible that some areas formed permanent shallow lakes during the Classic period (Beach et al. 2009; Grube and Delvendahl 2015a; Lucero 2006). Even so, only seasonal agriculture is possible in this area, highly dependent on the seasonal rains, and the provisioning of urban centers with water during dry seasons was a major concern for the large polities located in this area, leading to important investment in large scale communal infrastructure (aguadas most importantly) (Grube 2001b, 25–26; Houston and Inomata 2009, 9). Vegetation is characterized by tropical evergreen forests of up to 30m high (Grube 2001b, 26–27; Grube and Delvendahl 2015a, 1). The region is rich in clay and limestone, which included chert nodules, but lacks most other mineral resources (such as obsidian, jade, basalt, and pyrite) which had to be imported from the Highlands (Houston and Inomata 2009, 10).

The deepest of these corrientales form steeply incised slopes that effectively divide the site into four settlement zones (Grube et al. 2012, 14). The monumental core of Uxul is located on the central hilltop, the highest and most extensive one (Grube et al. 2012, 14). To the west and east of this central meseta are two large modified rectangular reservoirs or aguadas that must have provided most of the water supply for the population of the site during the dry seasons (Grube et al. 2012, 14–15; Seefeld 2013b). To the south, west, and north, the site is clearly delineated by steep slopes descending to the bajo (Grube et al. 2012, 17). The eastern edge, however, has been harder to define, as it is not marked by such sharp variations in topography: the eastern area is characterized by numerous irregular small hills that might have provided suitable areas for habitation (Grube et al. 2012, 17). Because of this, mapping on this side of the site is not complete, and the exact limit of the settlement is still unknown. A total of 758 structures, distributed in 76 groups have so far been mapped at Uxul over a surface area of 3.8 km2 (Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, iii). It is estimated, however, that the total extent of the site would have been about 5 km2 (Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, iii). The great majority of structures that have been identified are situated on elevated, well-drained terrain, sometimes on top of substantial basal platforms (Grube et al. 2012, 17). Most buildings are arranged in relatively discrete architectural groups, most often forming a patio arrangement with at least 3 buildings surrounding it (Grube et al. 2012, 17). Architectural groups range from small informal clusters of buildings to complex multi-leveled patio arrangements (Grube et al. 2012, 17). Most structures are oriented slightly east of north, following a widespread Mesoamerican practice (Grube et al. 2012, 17).

The Calakmul Biosphere is an approximately 7220 km2 area of tropical forest, at the limit between the tropical

51

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 3.1. Site map of Uxul showing the locations of important architectural groups and structures mentioned in this chapter (modified from map created by B. Volta and I. Paap, Uxul Archaeological Project).

52

Uxul Apart from numerous residential groups, several ceremonial centers were identified at the site, both in the core of the settlement and outside of it. Group A includes four pyramids, five stelae, and an altar, and is located on the western edge of the central meseta of the site (Grube and Paap 2007, 6–8). Group D (a plaza group with a large pyramidal structure), the ballcourt C5, as well as the pyramids K1 and L1, are located at the heart of the monumental center of Uxul around the large plaza that is also bordered by the royal palace to the south (Grube and Paap 2007, 10–12, 23–25). Group R forms a plaza group with a pyramidal structure and is located to the east of the ceremonial core, at the edge of the eastern aguada (Grube and Paap 2009, 8–9). Group K’óom is the only ceremonial center at the site outside of the central area that is not associated with a residential compound, and consists of a plaza group with a pyramidal structure in the southwestern part of the site (Volta 2011, 31–34). Additionally, a large structure, of which the function is unclear, Group E, which has been nicknamed the “Acropolis” due to its large elevated platform, is located to the northwest of the central plaza, on the edge of the meseta, overlooking the western aguada (Miller-Sisson and Delvendahl 2011, 99). It is the most voluminous structure at Uxul, with two patios on different levels (with a 3 m height difference) enclosed by several masonry vaulted superstructures, as well as smaller perishable ones (Miller-Sisson and Delvendahl 2011, 99). However, the construction of its final phase, dating to the Late Classic was never finished, and its intended function remains unclear (Miller-Sisson and Delvendahl 2011, 108–9).

type of structure is characterized by rectangular mounds of 10 to 20 meters in length, about 5 meters wide, and on average 1.2 meters high (Grube et al. 2012, 18). The second most common type of residential ruins is low rectangular mounds or platforms ranging from 50 cm in height to small rises that are barely noticeable above the jungle floor (Grube et al. 2012, 18). These may have had a variety of purposes, but are generally believed to have been part of residential clusters, built to support perishable structures or to provide flat surfaces for daily activities or storage (Grube et al. 2012, 18). The interpretation of most architectural groups as being residential is supported by the abundance of storage cisterns, or chultunob, associated with them: 102 have been identified (Grube et al. 2012, 19; Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, iii). Additionally, three large pyramidal mounds of considerable size have been found outside of the site core, incorporated into residential Groups N, Kéej, and Ak’ (Grube et al. 2012, 19). Large scale architectural arrangements outside of the core of the site, together with the range of diversity in size and form of residential groups, suggest a low level of political centralization at the site (Grube et al. 2012, 19). 3.1. History of research The medium-sized Classic Maya city was first formally described and mapped in 1934 by Karl Ruppert and John H. Denison (1943) during the third Carnegie Institution of Washington expedition to Campeche. They visited the site for nine days, and established a simple map of the site core (see Figure 3.2), which was rushed and incomplete (Grube and Delvendahl 2015a, 2). They gave the name of “Uxul”, meaning “the end”, to the site where, tired and plagued by insect bites and malaria, they decided to end their expedition into the Maya jungle.

The ceremonial and administrative core of the site, characterized by the presence of monumental architecture and carved stone stelae and altars, measures about 700 meters east-west by 400 meters north-south, and is composed of three main plazas (Grube et al. 2012, 17). The central plaza contains a ballcourt (C5), the only one found at Uxul, which was built directly to the north of the palace complex (Group K) (Grube et al. 2012, 17). A 150-meter long causeway or sacbe (the Ruppert sacbe) leads from the western edge of the central plaza to Group A, an architectural complex that is situated about 15 meters lower, and contains four tall pyramidal structures with stelae at their bases (Grube et al. 2012, 17). Another, 200-meter long, sacbe (the Denison sacbe) leads from the eastern edge of the main plaza (Group D) to a large ceremonial plaza group (Group R) at the edge of the eastern aguada (Grube et al. 2012, 17; Grube and Delvendahl 2015a, 3).

After the initial visit by the Carnegie expedition, the site did not receive any further attention for decades. In the 1980s, shortly before the Calakmul Biosphere Reserve was established, loggers started exploiting the area for tropical hardwoods and chicle (the sap of the rubber tree) (Grube et al. 2012, 13). It was during this time that Uxul became a target of extraordinarily heavy looting, with numerous looters’ trenches being dug into the ancient structures all over the site and some of the pyramids thoroughly tunneled through (see for example Figure 3.3) (Grube et al. 2012, 13). Only in April of 2005 did Uxul become the object of scientific research again when it was rediscovered by Ivan Šprajc based on aerial photographs and an expedition into the area (Grube and Delvendahl 2015a, 3; Šprajc 2008). Nikolai Grube, in the same year, started the documentation of the stone monuments that remained at the site (Grube 2008). During 2005 and 2006, Nikolai Grube and Ivan Šprajc conducted two expeditions to the site and started documenting the monumental center of Uxul (Grube and Delvendahl 2015a, 3). In 2007, extensive mapping of the area began in preparation for a more extensive research project (Grube et al. 2012, 14;

Outside of the core of the site, smaller architectural groups, mainly residential structures, are spread out over the mesetas, taking advantage of natural rises in the landscape and avoiding areas that were prone to flooding during the rainy seasons (Grube et al. 2012, 18). About 45% of all structures are thought to feature multiple adjacent rooms with plaster floors and masonry walls, likely featuring vaulted stone roofs, often built on low basal platforms (Grube et al. 2012, 18). This 53

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

54 Figure 3.2. Map of Uxul as drawn by Ruppert and Denison (after Ruppert and Denison 1943, plate 70, Carnegie Institution for Science) during their third Carnegie Institution of Washington expedition to Campeche (reproduced from Grube and Paap 2008, 61).

Uxul

Figure 3.3. Pyramid D1 damaged by extensive looting in the form of trenches and tunneling (in this photograph the looters’ trenches have been cleaned in order to be documented and consolidated in the middle so as to prevent further collapse) (Stelson and Delvendahl 2015, 56).

Grube and Delvendahl 2015a, 3; Grube and Paap 2007; Seefeld 2014a). Since then, between 2009 and 2015, the Uxul Archaeological Project of the University of Bonn, Germany, has conducted extensive archaeological survey and excavation at Uxul under the general direction of Nikolai Grube and (until 2013) Antonio Benavides Castillo, in collaboration with the Mexican Institute of Anthropology and History (INAH) and funded by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (DFG) (Grube et al. 2012, 13; Grube and Delvendahl 2015c). The goal of this project was mainly to investigate the expansion and disintegration of hegemonic power in the Maya area, in particular the role and influence that the nearby Classical superpower of Calakmul would have had over the smaller center of Uxul (Grube et al. 2012, 14).

looters’ trenches), characteristics (e.g. Group Iich, “twin”, which consists of two similar architectural groups, Group Ch’oom, “destroyed”, because it was partially destroyed by a logger’s road going through some of its structures), their location (e.g. Group Lak’in, “east”, because of its location on the eastern edge of the sitemap), particularities observed during survey (e.g. Group Ma’ax, “spider monkey” named after spider monkeys seen in the area, or Group Ak’, “vine”, because of the vegetation present there), or simply as an unrelated reference (e.g. Group K’áak’, “fire”). During the first two years (2009–2010) of the project, excavation focused on structures and compounds that were hypothesized to constitute the contact zone between the elite and the non-elite (including the residential compounds of centrally located secondary elites Groups M and B) in order to explore how the process of expansion and disintegration of hegemonic power influenced various strata of society (Grube et al. 2012, 14; Grube and Paap 2009; Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010). Additionally, excavations in the ceremonial center Group A, as well as of structures surrounding the large central plaza of the site, were performed in order to better understand the history and functions of the civicceremonial core of Uxul (Grube and Paap 2009; Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010).

Survey and mapping of the site took place throughout the duration of the project, resulting in a 3.8 km2 map of the site core, with an estimated 1.2 km2 not having been mapped yet (Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, iii). After architectural groups were named by alphabetical letters up to Group S, the newly described architectural groups were given names in Yucatec Maya (Grube and Delvendahl 2015a, 9), typically based on features identified at or near the groups (e.g. Group Eeb, “stairs”, because its high platform would have been accessed by stairs, Group Baak, “bone”, named after bone fragments found in one of the 55

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands After that, focus shifted increasingly to the higher elite complexes both in the site center and in the intermediate and peripheral areas (Grube et al. 2012, 14). In 2011 excavations continued at Group M (Bayer 2011; Kupprat 2011b; Tamignaux 2011) as well as around the central plaza and the ball court (Kupprat 2011a; Pérez de Heredia Puente and Tejeda Monroy 2011), and the palace complex Group K became a major focus of investigation (Delvendahl 2011; Reyes Ayala 2011; Tejeda Monroy 2011). The “Acropolis” Group E was also the object of excavation, revealing that construction at the large structure may never have been finished, but research here was unable to clarify its function (Miller-Sisson and Delvendahl 2011). A final major focus of excavations was that of the hydraulic systems of Uxul, with excavations in the eastern aguada made possible by the low rainfall during the rainy season of that year, leaving it dry and accessible (Seefeld 2011).

these groups in order to better understand the architectural history and expansion of Uxul throughout its occupation. During the final field season in 2015, excavation focused on the secondary elite outside of the central core of the settlement (Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, vii). This included extensive excavations in elite groups of the southeastern section of the site, Groups K’áak’ (MillerSisson 2015), Kulte’ (Matsumoto 2015), Ma’ax (Barnard and Delvendahl 2015), and Pu’uk (Seefeld 2015), as well as in Group G just north of the central core of the site (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015). Excavations in Group Ya’ab in the north of the site continued in order to investigate the possible presence of workshops (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015). The pyramidal structure of Group D, the ceremonial center on the western side of the main plaza, was also the object of investigation (Stelson and Delvendahl 2015). Excavations continued in the palace complex Group K (Delvendahl 2015; Heise 2015). Additionally, the 3D documentation of several important features of Uxul was a focal point during this season, including the documentation of the Uxul stelae and monuments using photogrammetry (Pallán Gayol 2015) and 3D laser scanning of the entire ceremonial compound Group A, the palace complex Group K, and the ceremonial center Group D (Coughenour 2015).

During the 2012 field season, excavations continued in the central zone of Uxul, with a focus on the palace Group K (Benz 2012; Delvendahl 2012; Delvendahl and Benz 2012; Pujol Pizà 2012; Szymański 2012), structures bordering the main plaza (Kupprat 2012), as well as excavations in Group F, next to the “Acropolis” Group E (Godos Gónzales 2012). Additionally, excavation began in some of the elite groups south of the central core, with extensive excavation taking place of the more peripheral Groups Ak’ (south of the site core) (Miller-Sisson 2012) and Baak (located in the extreme south of the southwestern meseta of the site) (Flück and Kupprat 2012). The investigation of the hydraulic systems continued with the excavation of the supply channels of the western aguada (Seefeld 2012).

3.2. History and affiliation Occupation at Uxul seems to have originated during the late Middle or Late Preclassic period, at the edge of the bajo to the west (Grube et al. 2012, 44). Evidence of sparse early settlement on the central meseta as well as on the site peripheries has also been found (Grube et al. 2012, 44). Occupation in Uxul continued uninterrupted, and the site grew during the Early Classic period, which also saw the development of monumental construction on the central meseta (Grube and Delvendahl 2015a, 15). The peak of Uxul’s occupation was reached during the Late Classic, in the 7th and 8th centuries CE, when the settlement spread over at least four adjacent hilltops and included an estimated 5000 to 7000 inhabitants at minimum (Grube et al. 2012, 44; Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, iv). Satellite LiDAR data gathered from nearby zones indicate that population density in the area was much higher than initially thought, however, and suggest that Uxul may have spread over a larger area, and had a larger population than initially estimated (Grube, Nikolai and Ulrich Wölfel, pers. Comm., in discussion with author, 2020, September 23).

In 2013, excavation continued in the palace complex Group K, focusing on the excavation of the substructure corresponding to an early construction phase (Delvendahl 2013a, 2013c; Delvendahl, Grube, and Chan Miss 2013; Szymański 2013). The study of peripheral elite groups continued with further excavations in Group Ak’ (MillerSisson and Volta 2013), as well as extensive excavation in Group Wob in the southwestern section of the site (Lyons and Stelson 2013). Additionally, Group Ya’ab, a large compound including several lower status patio groups on the northern meseta of the site, was investigated in order to better understand the function of this unusual architectural compound (Bayer 2013; Benz 2013; Benz and Chan Miss 2013). Modified landscape features including an artificial cave near Group Q, located on the western edge of the main meseta just north of the “Acropolis”, were investigated in order to determine whether they were related to residential water management, resulting in the discovery of a mass grave including up to 24 individuals (Seefeld 2013a).

Originally, until the beginning of the 7th century, the city of Uxul seems to have been ruled by an independent royal dynasty, who raised several stelae in the western part of the site, in the group A ceremonial complex (Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, iv). The majority of the inscribed monuments at Uxul, however, date from the 7th century, and were raised by the ruler Muyul Chaak from 660 CE onwards (Grube et al. 2012, 44; Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, iv). Iconographic and epigraphic information

The 2014 field season was characterized by an intensive test-pit program (Grube and Delvendahl 2014b). In total 100 test-pits were excavated in the patios and open spaces associated with 57 of the architectural groups in Uxul, including both the central and peripheral zones of the site (Grube and Delvendahl 2014b). The goal of this test-pit program was to determine the chronological sequence of 56

Uxul suggests that around this time Uxul was incorporated into Calakmul’s political sphere (Grube et al. 2012, 44). The site was part of a zone that was directly administered by Calakmul, and was defined by the sites of Oxpemul to the north, La Muñeca and Altamira to the east, Sasilha to the west, and Naachtun and Uxul to the south (Braswell 2013, 151). Many hieroglyphic monuments at Uxul date from the heyday of the Kaan dynasty at Calakmul during the 7th century, and mention dates that can be directly linked to important dates in the history of Calakmul (Braswell 2013, 153; Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, v).

city (Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, vii). Monumental architecture, both domestic and public, was constructed throughout the settlement, showing the growing prosperity of its inhabitants (Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, vii). The demonstration of power through extensive construction and iconographic programs served to reinforce and legitimize the power of both the rulers of Uxul and their Calakmul overlords (Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, vii). The last date recorded at Uxul falls in 705 CE (9.13.13.0.0), making the epigraphic history of the settlement unusually short (Grube et al. 2012, 45). This last date corresponds to a period of defeat of the Kaan dynasty at, the hands of Tikal, first in 695 CE, and a second and decisive defeat in 736 CE (Grube et al. 2012, 45). During this time, modifications to the palace of Uxul included the relocation, destruction, and desecration of the panels referring to the Kaan dynasty found in the palace staircase, as well as of several of the stelae at the site, reflecting political unrest and change (Grube and Delvendahl 2015a, 4, 2015c, vii). The elite of Uxul could no longer rely on their connection to the Calakmul rulers to legitimize their power. Unlike some of the other cities under Calakmul’s influence, they did not succeed in reclaiming their independent power after the fall of foreign domination, and the decline of Uxul began (Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, vii). By 750 CE, construction at Uxul had all but stopped, and the site was largely abandoned (Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, vii). This suggests a direct connection between the end of elite activity at Uxul, and the downfall of its Calakmul overlord: Uxul may have become so dependent on its connection to the Kaan dynasty that the downfall of the latter also led to the disintegration of its own political system (Grube et al. 2012, 45).

The impact of Calakmul is clearly visible all over the site, in particular in the monumental center which seems to have undergone significant changes after the site’s integration into the Calakmul political sphere (Grube et al. 2012, 45; Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, iv). Excavations of buildings around Uxul’s central plazas show that several of them were built in a single monumental construction effort shortly before 650 CE (Grube et al. 2012, 45). The transformation of Uxul’s center mirrors the Calakmul site plan, and can be directly linked to the time of military expansion of the Kaan dynasty during the reign of Yukno’m Chéen II “el Grande” (636–686 CE), who is considered to have been one of the most powerful kings in Maya history (Grube et al. 2012, 45; Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, v-vi; Grube and Martin 2000). The direct influence of the Kaan kings from Calakmul on Uxul’s architectural development must also have had a major impact on its political and social organization (Grube et al. 2012, 45; Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, v). Indeed, the iconography and hieroglyphic inscriptions at Uxul confirm the direct link between the rulers of Calakmul and the political power of the rulers of Uxul. The stelae raised during the Kaan domination, especially those placed by Muyul Chaak, also follow a strict iconographic scheme that was known at all sites under the influence of the Kaan dynasty at the time, including specific elements of clothing such as a pectoral and a headdress showing a jaguar and a tobacco leaf (Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, v). Another stela mentions that the celebration of the half K’atun in the year 662 CE (9.11.10.0.0) performed by Muyul Chaak was supervised by Yukn’m Ch’een II indicating that the rulers of Calakmul sometimes made physical appearances in Uxul to reinforce their influence, and that the ruler of Uxul was directly subordinate to them (Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, v). Panels on the stairways of the palace complex Group K show the rulers of Calakmul as ballgame players, further reinforcing the importance of the Kaan dynasty for the power of the rulers of Uxul (Grube and Martin 2000, vi).

The political collapse of Uxul is connected to a tremendous reduction of its population, as evidenced by the minimal amount of Terminal Classic ceramics recovered at the site (Grube et al. 2012, 45). This may well have much to do with the management of water resources, and the role of the elite in maintaining them (Grube et al. 2012, 45). The sophisticated hydraulic system of Uxul, necessary for maintaining the large population of the site, was centered around the two aguadas. Their excavation has shown that they would have required a huge amount of labor input, large-scale landscape modification, and planning for both their development and maintenance, implying central supervision and an overseeing authority (Grube et al. 2012, 45; Seefeld 2013b). With the disappearance of Uxul’s royal elite, this central power would have vanished, and centralized maintenance of the aguadas may not have been maintained resulting in a drastic decrease in the availability of water for the inhabitants of the settlement (Grube et al. 2012, 45). This is supported by evidence of the digging of small, shallow wells into the surface of the aguadas during the Terminal Classic period, suggesting that water levels became extremely low, and their management was no longer centrally overseen, resulting in individuals modifying them on small scales for their own immediate needs (Seefeld 2013b).

Besides a time of profound change, the period of Calakmul’s influence over Uxul also corresponds to a time of immense growth (Grube and Delvendahl 2015c, vii). Not only the civic-ceremonial center of the site was modified and expanded significantly, but the entire site grew and was modified to accommodate the growing population. The Eastern Aguada was established during this time in order to satisfy the needs of the growing 57

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands 3.3. Uxul’s spatial and archaeological evidence

when they arrived at the site). There is no reason to suspect that similarly large structures were overlooked during the more recent mapping of Uxul, as survey was much more systematic and thorough, but this example does illustrate the difficulty of detecting ancient architecture in the jungle, where vegetation blocks the view, and structures themselves are overgrown and blend in with the forest (see Figure 3.4 as illustration). In an environment where much of the jungle floor is covered in vegetation, low structures consisting today of only a low stone base that supported a perishable structure on top would be easy to overlook. Especially if such foundations are not located directly next to larger structures but in open space, meaning that surveyors may not have expected their presence, there is a greater chance of them being missed altogether. This also means that there is a possibility that the humblest of the habitations and smallest of the features may be underrepresented in the Uxul survey maps, as they may simply not have been detected during survey. This is not a critique of the surveyors in any way, simply a consequence of the physical conditions of field survey in a jungle environment that needs to be taken into account. It is impossible to determine, without further ground examination designed specifically to find structures like this, to what extent this would have affected survey, and how many or few small structures and features may have been missed on surface examination because of the jungle undergrowth.

The data available for this research project consisted primarily of the site maps, the artifacts and artifact databases, as well as the technical field reports and excavation documentation detailing the excavation contexts. All of the data belong to and were provided by the Uxul Archaeological Project of the University of Bonn, Germany, under the general direction of Nikolai Grube and Antonio Benavides Castillo in collaboration with the Mexican Institute of Anthropology and History (INAH), and funded by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (DFG). 3.3.1. Maps Approximately 3.8 km2 of the Uxul settlement area were surveyed and mapped during the Uxul field project, between 2007 and 2015. Mapping was performed using Total Station and set in a local coordinate system developed for the express purposes of the Uxul excavation project. Mapping was performed under the direction of Margit Dauner, Iken Paap, Antonio Benavides, Marco Gross, Nicolaus Seefeld, Sven Bayer, Beniamino Volta, and Janko Reichel (Grube and Paap 2007, 2008, 2009; Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010; Reichel and Volta 2015; Volta 2011, 2012, 2013). Iken Paap and Beniamino Volta processed the recorded spatial data using AutoCAD and GIS applications (Reichel and Volta 2015). The resulting maps include the elevation model of the entire mapped area, as well as the spatial coordinates of all recorded structures, quarries, ancient roads, water reservoirs, chultunes, and other features of the natural and archaeological environment. It is estimated that the entire Uxul settlement would have spanned approximately 5 km2, meaning that about 1.2 km2 has not yet been included in the mapping area.

I used the maps provided by the Uxul Archaeological Project extensively in order to study patterns of settlement organization, social integration, and intra-site mobility (see Chapter 5: Settlement organization: household location and mobility). Although the biases of the map discussed above are known, it provides a solid basis for the study of settlement patterns, and for understanding the way Uxul developed and was organized. 3.3.2. Artifacts and databases

While mapping using Total Station provides absolute and objective data on the spatial coordinates that are registered, this survey method is not immune to human error, analytical bias, and interpretation issues. One issue that is exacerbated by the physical environment of Uxul is that of undergrowth. Uxul is located in the middle of a tropical jungle environment, and vegetation is varied and abundant. In some areas of this jungle, especially when straying from the paths that have been freed of vegetation, one can only see a few meters ahead. As an anecdote for how this can affect site mapping, when Karl Ruppert and John H. Dennison (1943) identified the site of Uxul and mapped parts of its central area, they recorded most of the structures of the palace complex, but failed to include the pyramids just a few dozen meters to the northwest (K1) and east (L1) of the palace, which are some of the largest of the site (Grube and Paap 2007, 22–23). While this oversight is surprising, it was no doubt due to the fact that even large structures can be obscured by the jungle vegetation when one is not very near them, especially when one is not looking for them (and plagued by issues of malaria and other tropical diseases as the leaders of the Carnegie expedition were

The archaeological artifacts found during fieldwork at Uxul were stored at two locations: the Uxul project storage facility at the archaeological zone of Edzná and the lab house and storage facility of the project in the village of Constitución, both in the state of Campeche, Mexico. Almost all artifacts recovered during excavation were stored here, excepting large and difficult-to-transport objects such as stone stelae, altars, and large metates, which were left in place where they were found at the site. Furthermore, only a reference collection of ceramic sherds, as well as all the complete vessels, were kept in storage, while the bulk of ceramic sherds were reburied at the site, in accordance with INAH guidelines. All of the artifacts were cleaned, examined, and inventoried at the storage locations, providing complete databases, including important characteristics of each object and its find context, for finds belonging to all artifact classes. The databases thus established are the following: • Ceramics (by Sara Dzul Góngora and Julia Bach) • Obsidian (by Geoffrey Braswell and Mike Lyons) 58

Uxul

Figure 3.4. Picture taken in Uxul showing a low overgrown structure located to the left of an informal foot-worn path, illustrating the difficulty of identifying small structures in a jungle environment (photograph taken by author).

• Shell (by Annkatrin Benz) • Chert (by Karin Hildebrandt, Julia Kościuk-Załupka, and Martyna Lech) • Animal bone (by Javier Adrián Rivas Romero) • Human remains (by Lucy Chan Miss) • Soil samples • Modern artifacts (by Yannick Dreessen) • Miscellaneous artifacts (by Karin Hildebrandt, Laura Heise, Annkatrin Benz, and the author)

such as temper, grain size, firing environment, color, etc. This decision was taken because of time restrictions, as a more detailed inventory of all the hundreds of thousands of sherds found during the excavations in Uxul would have been an immense undertaking with a questionable cost-benefit balance. Thus, the ceramics database, while containing a wealth of information, is geared towards an overview analysis of distribution patterns, rather than a very detailed analysis of individual vessels and sherds.

It should be noted that the chert database is still incomplete. It was planned to be completed by Julia Kościuk-Załupka during the spring of 2020, but the COVID-19 global health crisis, restricting international travel, prevented this, and it has been postponed until further notice.

The miscellaneous artifacts included artifact categories that were too small to warrant an individual database, as well as artifacts that did not fit into any of the other categories. This includes stone artifacts of different types (ground stone, greenstone, quartzite, and other), ceramic figurines, whistles, and ocarinas, spindle whorls (stone and ceramic), reused ceramic discs (perforated, partially perforated, and non-perforated), earspools, ornaments, bone needles and awls, a bone flute, etc., as well as otherwise unidentified objects.

Unlike the other databases, the ceramics databases do not contain information on the specific individual characteristics of each ceramic sherd. For each sherd, the excavation context (Lote, architectural, group, coordinates of the quadrant) is recorded, as well as its type and style following the Type-variety system established at Uxul by Sara Dzul Góngora (Dzul Góngora 2013, 2015). It does not, however, record the dimensions or weight of the sherd, nor does it contain information about its matrix

These databases served as the basis for the analysis of artifact distributions and patterns. Detailed analysis of animal bones as related to consumption, as well as the analysis of human burials, were not performed 59

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands during this research, and the databases relating to these categories were only used for context characterization, rather than in-depth analysis (although these topics would provide an additional dimension to the study of wealth distribution, consumption, and quality of life in particular). Furthermore, it was beyond the scope of the present research to do detailed analyses of individual artifacts, and instead I focused on broader patterns of consumption and production. These databases provided all the necessary data for such a study without the need for an extensive examination of the individual artifacts included in them.

and were distinguished by material (ceramics, lithics, obsidian, shell, etc.). Special or unusual finds, including particularly well-made or elaborate pieces, rare materials (such as greenstone and quartz), rare types of objects, and in situ artifacts were collected and recorded individually with a record of their exact coordinates, as well as information about their excavation context. Lastly, documentation includes all the technical drawings made during the excavation process, typically including drawings of surface areas, floor plans, profiles, features, and artifacts. This documentation provides the basis for understanding the excavation contexts of the archaeological record of Uxul.

Additionally to the databases, the availability of the artifacts themselves enabled me to perform chemical analysis on a sample of two of the artifact classes: obsidian and ceramics. I used a portable XRF spectrometer in order to achieve this, a non-destructive method, on artifacts at both of the storage facilities of the Uxul project. These analyses are discussed more in detail elsewhere (see 6.1 Ceramics: consumption, chronology, and sources and 6.2 Obsidian: consumption, production, and sources).

The archaeological excavation reports, written in accordance with INAH guidelines, provide additional information about the excavations and their interpretations. They are written by the person(s) overseeing each particular excavation trench, and include information on the goals of the excavation, justification of the choices made, excavation conditions, and interpretations of the archaeological record. Where the technical documentation of the excavations is mainly descriptive, the excavation reports provide the interpretative context necessary to understand the archaeological record, as well as the way in which it was uncovered and recorded.

In this way, both the databases and the artifacts themselves formed a large part of the analyses performed, in particular the analysis of consumption and production patterns, for the present research project. I focus on the analysis of the databases for ceramics, obsidian, shell, and miscellaneous artifacts, while I use the databases for chert, animal bone, and human remains in a more cursory way, as their detailed analysis was beyond the scope of the present research. The databases on soil samples and modern artifacts were not pertinent to the present research and are therefore not included in any of the analyses. Although the biases of the databases discussed above are known, they provide a solid basis for the study of consumption, production, and exchange patterns in ancient Uxul.

As with any archaeological data, excavation records and reports are not free from interpretative bias. The way excavation strategies are set up depends not only on what is investigated and the goals of the excavation, but also on the person elaborating the excavation strategies and adapting them to unforeseen circumstances. Depending on the experience of the archaeologist, their methodological and theoretical background, and the research questions they consider important, excavation strategies may differ, as may what is and isn’t found and/or recorded in the archaeological record. Thus, the archaeological data resulting from excavations at different places on the site of Uxul, performed at different times, and under the direction of different people, may have been affected in this way. Excavation strategies were centrally discussed and overseen by the field and project directors, however, assuring that research questions and excavation strategies were consistent for the entire field project, although adaptable to the needs and circumstances of specific loci. While central oversight may not completely remove individual methodological, interpretational, and theoretical bias relating to excavation strategies, it ensured that the results of the excavations and their interpretations are broadly comparable between different loci within the site.

3.3.3. Excavation reports A wealth of information is contained in the excavation reports and excavation documentation recorded by those in charge of excavations throughout the Uxul field project. Since I was not personally present for or in charge of most of the excavations performed in Uxul (except for excavations during the 2015 field season when I was in charge of excavations performed in the architectural group Ma’ax), these are the main sources available about excavation contexts for the present research. The excavation documentation refers to all the technical records made during the excavation process. This includes descriptions of all excavation contexts, layers, matrices, and features (called Lotes) that were identified and numbered during excavation (these include spatial information, descriptions, and the relationships with other Lotes). Finds were also documented in the field, including their excavation contexts, Lote number, spatial information, and a brief description. Most artifact categories were collected by context (Lote) and quadrant (1 × 1 m squares) coordinates in which they were found,

3.4. Methodological discussion: approaching the data 3.4.1. Household identification In order to study settlement patterns, wealth distribution, patterns of consumption, and patterns of intra-site mobility, it was necessary to determine the locations, configurations, and natures of the different household groups in Uxul. 60

Uxul This was done on the basis of the survey maps elaborated of the site, showing the layout of architectural features, as well as the description of these features. Households were identified based on the typical Maya patio group organization (A. Chase and D. Chase 2014; Ashmore 1981; Flannery 1976b; Haviland 1988; Hendon 1996; Houston and Inomata 2009, 27; King 2020a, 443; Lemonnier 2012, 181; Manzanilla 1986; Sheets 2000; Tourtellot, III 1983; Wilk and Ashmore 1988). These correspond to coresident (familial) groups who shared many aspects of their daily life, as well as common goals, and formed a socio-economic unit. The identification of such household groups based on the layout of their household, then, in the absence of extensive excavation, relies on the assumption of extensive daily face-to-face interaction within a shared patio space.

however, and these can be considered to reflect a small household, perhaps in the process of patio formation. (Lemonnier 2012, 185). Such isolated structures were identified as households with the help of other associated features and the description of the nature of the structure as residential (rectangular and non-pyramidal in nature). However, while it is probable that such structures used an outdoor space that was part of the household in the same way as a patio, when it was not delineated by a basal platform, its delineation in the absence of excavation is problematic, and often not possible. In such cases, the household was identified and marked on the map, but its full extension could not be determined. It should be noted, however, that the surface area of households is used only as a less essential factor and in a minor capacity, as a supporting measure, for analysis throughout this work, and that these difficulties in usefully determining surface areas do not affect the final interpretations made on the basis of architectural analysis.

In many cases, the identification of an individual household group based on its organization in a patio was straightforward and directly supported by the presence of residential features recorded on the surface, such as metates, chultunes, etc. Furthermore, the types of structures present in an architectural group provide clues about their nature: residential structures are typically rectangular and non-pyramidal, and although pyramidal structures may be present within household groups, the presence of residential structures is required for their identification as such. When patio groups are clearly formed, with a more or less enclosed space in between residential structures, and separated from other patio groups through open space, their identification was simple. These were all identified and marked on the map, in order to perform subsequent GIS-based analysis. However, in some cases, their identification was not as straightforward, and interpretations needed to be made as to whether an architectural feature represented a household, and where the separation between different households would have been. Here I will discuss these interpretive decisions.

Another difficulty in determining the limits of household groups occurred in cases where two or more patio configurations were connected and not separated by open space. In these cases, two possibilities for interpretation existed: either connected patios formed a single household or separate ones. This distinction was made on the basis of cohabitation, daily interactions, and the use of common areas by the inhabitants of the patio groups. In some cases, the structure separating two patios was open on both sides and may have provided a passage from one patio to the other. In such cases, the separating structure is therefore seen as a shared space between the two patios, meaning that it can’t be functionally assigned to either one of them, and there was no functional separation between the patios. In such cases, the patios on either side of the separating structure are considered to have been part of a single household, the inhabitants of which shared their space and activity areas.

The first interpretative difficulty is in cases where the typical patio configuration is not clear. Even when it is not enclosed by structures on each side, a rectangular patio can still be identified and delineated when it is open on one or two sides. In such cases, the limits of the patio are often marked by the border of the basal platform of the patio group. In cases where such a platform is not clearly visible or did not exist, however, delineation is more complex, and may not be objective. In such cases, an arbitrary (though educated) decision was made based on the rectangular nature of most patios by completing the rectangle formed by the structures that delineate the known sides of the patio. This means that, although the actual patio space of the household may originally have been larger than what is ultimately marked on the map, it would not have been smaller. In any case, such patio groups are still easily identified, even when not easily delineated.

In other cases, however, the separating structure was only open to one patio, meaning it can confidently be assigned to that patio group. This does not automatically mean that the two patios formed separate household groups, however. Indeed, in some cases, especially when the patios in question are relatively closed off, it is clear that the only entrance to one of the patios was through the other, with a passage between the two that was not necessarily through the separating structure. Such configurations may have arisen through concerns of privacy, difference in function between the patios, or simply through organic growth of the household group. In such cases, the patio through which one needed to pass to arrive at the other can be considered a shared space for the inhabitants of both patios. Therefore, on the basis of daily interaction and shared space and strategies, two such patios are considered to form part of a single household and are marked as such.

A more difficult case arises when a household consisted of a single, isolated structure. It is known that some Maya households never grew beyond the isolated structure,

There are also cases, however, where a structure separating two patios was clearly oriented and open to only one patio, and each patio clearly had its own entrance, without the 61

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands need to pass through the other. In cases like this, although the two patio groups were most likely very closely connected, they are identified as separate household groups, without shared spaces or obligatory daily faceto-face interactions. The separating structure is obviously assigned to the patio to which it is oriented.

structures as the foundations for newer structures on top, and investigation into this phenomenon reveals much on the use and occupation history of a structure and architectural group. Additionally, this strategy may reveal the presence and chronology of potential burials, tombs, and ceremonial caches under the floors of structures, all of which were common phenomena in the Maya area. Although this strategy does not allow for large scale horizontal excavation of earlier construction phases (meaning that our understanding of earlier construction phases is typically not as thorough as that of the last one) it can reveal the changes in not only form, but also function and occupation of the structures in question. However, this strategy is inherently destructive, as it needs to destroy parts of the architecture belonging to the last construction phase in order to reveal what is underneath, which is why it was only performed when its interpretational benefits were justifiable.

All household groups thus identified are marked, delineated, and numbered on the map, so that their configuration and location can be further analyzed. They receive both a unique identifying number and the name that was given to the architectural group during mapping (or “other” if they were not given a name). When several households are included within a group that originally received a single name, they are identified by both a number and a name (e.g. Ma’ax 1, M1, K’áak’ 2, Ya’ab 6, etc.). The location of the identified households can be seen in Figure 3.5, the full list of their identifying information (including identifying number and name) can be found in Appendix 1.

Stratigraphic test pits were an important tool for the understanding of chronological sequences of construction and occupation phases of the different architectural complexes of Uxul. These were typically performed in open spaces between buildings, such as in patios or the spaces outside of patio groups. The main goal of these typically 2 × 2 m test pits (though they were sometimes extended or restricted depending on where they were placed) was to be able to detect different construction phases of patio floor surfaces and understand their chronology. This allowed for a general understanding of the chronology of the different construction phases of patios and plazas, as well as their occupational history and the ways in which patio and plaza floors were modified over their use history. While they do not allow for an analysis of distributional patterns or activity areas the way horizontal excavation does, nor do they allow for a full interpretation of construction phases and their functions, they do provide valuable data on the chronology of use and occupation of architectural groups. This can then be used as a basis for deciding for which areas further excavation is most needed. Furthermore, although this is not their primary goal, test pits may reveal features in patios and plazas or outside of them that were not detected on the surface, such as filled-in chultunes or low wall foundations. During the 2014 field season (Grube and Delvendahl 2014a), a large test pit program was designed to investigate the occupational histories and chronologies of modifications of a large number of the patio groups of Uxul, including 42% of all known household patios. Additionally, test pits were frequently employed alongside horizontal and vertical excavation during the field seasons in order to gain a more complete understanding of the architectural groups under investigation.

3.4.2. Analyzing Uxul’s artifact data 3.4.2.1. Excavation strategies In order to understand how data on the artifacts found in Uxul is analyzed, it is first necessary to understand how that data came into existence. Throughout the fieldwork performed in Uxul, several different excavation strategies were employed. The most important of these were: • • • •

horizontal excavation vertical excavation stratigraphic test pit excavation looters’ trench cleaning and consolidation

Horizontal excavation was performed throughout excavations at Uxul and was one of the most important excavation strategies employed over the years. Its goal was to excavate large areas of structures and open spaces in order to understand their configuration and use history. This strategy focused on the last construction and occupation phases of architectural complexes, revealing the architecture and artifact distributions as they were at the time of abandonment and collapse. This excavation strategy allows for an understanding of the organization and functions of architecture during its last use phase(s), as well as for the identification of potential activity areas, trash deposits, termination activities, and post-depositional processes. Vertical excavation is another strategy that was employed throughout excavation at Uxul, except during the 2014 and 2015 field seasons, as official permits did not allow for it. The primary goal of this strategy is to understand the subsequent construction phases of architectural complexes, in particular individual structures. It involves breaking the architecture (floors) of the last construction phase, in order to check for, date, and understand earlier construction phases of a structure. The ancient Maya are known to have routinely used old phases of their

Finally, the cleaning and consolidation of looters’ trenches were performed throughout fieldwork in Uxul, though its goals were somewhat different from those of the other excavation strategies. Most looters’ trenches found in the Uxul archaeological site area consisted of deep, narrow trenches dug into a structure, and, in some cases, tunneling deep into and under it. The obvious goals for 62

Uxul

Figure 3.5. Map of Uxul showing the location of all identified households and their unique feature identifier (FID) (modified from map created by B. Volta and I. Paap, Uxul Archaeological Project).

these were to look for tombs and caches in the architecture containing intact and elaborate artifacts that could be sold on the black market. These trenches severely damaged the architecture, and in some cases left structures unstable and open to further damage. Whenever excavations took place in an architectural group that had been affected by

looters, time and resources were usually expended to clean and consolidate the trenches in order to avoid further damage to the structure. While this was the main goal of these activities, there was also an interpretational benefit to the investigation of looters’ trenches, and they were extensively documented. While looters’ trenches destroyed 63

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands much archaeological data that cannot be recovered, in many cases they also revealed data and features that would otherwise not have been known, and it would have been a missed opportunity not to record these. First of all, many of these trenches, once their profiles were cleaned, revealed the construction phases of the structure in question, allowing for a better understanding of their chronology and morphology. While such data are no substitute for rigorous vertical archaeological excavation and its documentation, the data rescued from looters’ trenches may complement that of vertical excavations in our understanding of the construction history of the structure. Furthermore, looters’ trenches sometimes reveal tombs or caches that would otherwise have remained unknown. While such features were almost always systematically looted and empty, meaning that we don’t know what they would have originally contained, their presence, nature, and stratigraphic characteristics can reveal information about ancient construction practices and the way these structures were used and conceived. Furthermore, while the most elaborate, beautiful, and intact objects were typically removed from such features, bone fragments and minor goods were often left behind (as their worth on the black market would not have justified the cost of their transport from the site), allowing for the rescue of some information about what and who were buried within these structures.

and the way they are analyzed in the present research. It should be noted that every archaeological context presents its own analytical issues and formation histories, and these will be discussed wherever relevant throughout the text. Because domestic construction fill and collapse layers are both the most problematic contexts, and the main source for the analysis of the household context data of Uxul, it is important to discuss them more in-depth here. 3.4.2.2.1. Construction fill In order to be able to analyze data originating from architectural fill, it is first of all important to understand how it was formed. Builders at Uxul, as elsewhere in the Maya area, frequently built structures on top of large, sometimes high platforms. They did this by building retaining walls, as well as internal support walls in a grid pattern, creating square or rectangular encasings that were then filled with rubble, on top of which a stable and level platform surface could be constructed. Such platforms formed a stable, elevated basis for the construction of further structures on top. Additionally, whenever monumental structures were built, these typically necessitated massive broad walls capable of supporting stone vaulted roofs on top. Such walls were typically formed by constructing two stable lines of wall a short distance apart, using regularly shaped stones so that their construction was stable, both facing outwards, and then filling in the space between them with rubble, creating a single massive stable wall.

3.4.2.2. Data contexts The artifacts recovered during excavations in Uxul originate from many different types of contexts. These contexts inform the ways the artifacts are interpreted, contextualized, and dated, although an examination of how depositional and post-depositional processes contributed to the formation of their excavation context is needed. Archaeological contexts include both in situ contexts (objects that are found at the place and in the contexts that they were last deposited in, whether deposition was intentional or not) and out of place ones (objects that arrived in their final archaeological context through postdepositional processes). In situ artifact contexts include settings such as burials, caches, trash deposits (secondary deposition), construction fill (tertiary deposition) or features, artifacts that were left behind on the surface at abandonment (either intentionally or unintentionally), etc. Out of place contexts include collapse layers, contexts that were disturbed by bioturbation, deposition occurring due to downflow and erosion processes, looted contexts, etc.

For the construction of both platforms and monumental structures, this means that large amounts of ad hoc rubble are needed to fill in the spaces between retaining and stabilizing walls. The bulk of this construction fill is typically made out of irregularly shaped stones of various sizes, with soil or a type of mortar filling in the gaps. However, large amounts of discarded objects, including ceramics, chert, obsidian, stone, and all kinds of miscellaneous artifacts, are also typically included in these construction fill contexts. There are two main reasons for the inclusion of refuse in construction fill. The first is that refuse deposits form a convenient source of large amounts of solid material that can help fill in and consolidate masonry construction. The second is that masonry construction forms a convenient way of permanently disposing of large amounts of refuse in a place where it is permanently removed from surface areas where growing trash deposits would become overwhelming, without congesting or encumbering any other spaces. This is an ancient case of recycling as a strategy of both getting rid of inconvenient refuse, and economizing on the costs of stone construction fill materials at the same time.

While a wealth of information is to be gained from welldefined contexts such as burials, caches, and primary trash deposits, by far the most of the artifacts recovered in Uxul originated from architectural fill and collapse layers. Both of these contexts are problematic for various reasons, and the issues associated with them need to be considered when analyzing their contents. While collapse layers (out of place contexts) originate from construction fill (in situ contexts), and therefore share a number of attributes and formation history, they each present unique analytical issues. Here, I will discuss the issues associated with these contexts

In order to understand where the refuse used in construction fill came from, and how it ended up in construction fill, it is important to understand how refuse was dealt with in ancient Maya household contexts. It is important to note that different scales of trash disposal existed, related to the permanence 64

Uxul of discard. Typically, relatively small accumulations of refuse existed within household areas, and functioned as provisional discard (secondary deposit context) (Hayden and Cannon 1983, 131). These are usually located in outof-the-way places, such as in corners, along walls or fences, at the back of structures, or simply out of the way from activity and walking areas (Hayden and Cannon 1983, 131). Artifacts included in these temporary refuse disposals were either kept to be reused later on, or periodically cleared and transferred to more permanent refuse disposals (Hayden and Cannon 1983, 131). Such accumulations would have been periodically cleared when they became too voluminous, and typically only survive in the archaeological record when they were left in situ at the time of abandonment of the household they were associated with.

a ceremonial goal, can almost invariably be assigned to a domestic refuse disposal strategy. This means that, barring a few exceptions that are discussed below, artifacts found within construction fill contexts can be assumed to have belonged to the household they were found in, and can be analyzed as similar to more obvious, temporary refuse deposits. While it is possible that some materials from outside the household would have been mixed in, it can be assumed that the artifacts found in such contexts overwhelmingly represent the belongings, consumption, and production activities of the households they are found in. Where the analysis of artifacts included in construction fill differs from that of a temporary refuse disposal, is the potential mixing that may have occurred in the case of the former. Indeed, because construction fill refuse is a tertiary deposit, this means that materials from multiple temporary refuse deposits may have become mixed. A single household often has several places in which it deposits its refuse, depending on size, activity areas, and the configuration of the space. For example, it is possible that all the refuse from one activity area was initially discarded in one place close to that activity area, whereas general household refuse was deposited elsewhere. An activity producing particularly large quantities of refuse, such as certain specialized production activities, would have been more likely to have an associated refuse deposit that was used primarily for that activity and did not include much generalized household refuse. So, while such secondary deposits found in the archaeological record might enable the identification of certain activities, their location, the different tools and implements associated with them, and their intensity, the analysis of a tertiary deposit where they are mixed together with other refuse deposits may obscure some of these patterns and yields fewer details about individual activities. Furthermore, it is possible that in a tertiary deposit temporary refuse deposits that were used at different times became mixed together. If, for example, an older domestic refuse deposit was abandoned for a newer location, but had not yet been cleared, and the contents of both were then used as construction fill for a new structure, non-contemporaneous artifacts would be found together in a single mixed context, complicating the analysis of contemporaneous assemblages and potentially obscuring changes in the composition of the archaeological record. Such a mixing effect is even stronger in collapse layers, where the collapsed materials belonging to different construction phases may be indistinguishable from each other, and the refuse of different occupation phases of the household may be mixed within a single context.

Refuse that could not be reused would eventually have ended up in more permanent, large-scale deposits (tertiary deposit contexts) (Hayden and Cannon 1983, 131). This would have included strategies such as the filling in of old storage pits and chultunes, filling old abandoned structures, filling out-of-use quarries, and creating landfill type areas outside of habitational and agricultural areas, as well as the use of this refuse as architectural fill. It is likely that refuse that was reused for construction purposes in large public undertakings (such as the building of large pyramids in the ceremonial centers or the paving of the aguadas (Seefeld 2013b, 68)) was either taken from large scale permanent communal refuse deposits or needed the direct contribution of households providing their small scale domestic refuse as a source of construction fill. This means that the origins of the refuse used as construction fill of large public infrastructure are unclear, and may represent mixed contexts with refuse from all over the site. However, in the case of domestic construction fill, necessitating smaller quantities of refuse, and not representing collective works in the same way as public infrastructure did, the most likely source of refuse was the one requiring the least effort: the inhabitants’ own domestic temporary refuse deposits. Indeed, people building domestic structures for their household most likely would have had little reason or justification to obtain refuse from more distant permanent deposits or even from other households, when they typically had access to a temporary deposit within the confines of their own household area. This is especially likely considering that the household refuse they didn’t use would eventually need to be moved to a new, more permanent deposit anyway. Thus, the use of their own temporary refuse deposits for materials to be used as construction fill for their own buildings and platforms would have provided a double economic advantage: it is an efficient way of disposing of temporary refuse deposits without having to transport them over large distances, and it somewhat reduces the quantity of stone construction fill needed for the construction of new structures or the modification of old ones.

A difficulty with the assignment of artifacts in construction fill to an individual household also arises when two or more households are very closely connected. Indeed, when there is a certain amount of space between physical households, it is likely that they each had their own refuse deposit that they used for their domestic refuse and subsequently for their construction fill. However, in some cases in Uxul several households were very closely

The artifacts included in domestic construction fill, excluding intentional deposits of specific artifacts with 65

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands associated with each other, forming a type of compound with little to no open space between them. In such cases, it is possible that such households had communal trash deposal strategies, with several households using the same temporary refuse deposits. In such cases, the refuse from multiple households would have become mixed before it was used as construction fill during the construction of new structures within the compound. Even if households within a single closely related compound did have separate domestic refuse deposits, its members would have been more likely to use those of their very near neighbors for construction fill than if neighbors would have lived at a greater distance. Thus, the construction fill of households belonging to such compounds is here considered as mixed context, possibly representing the household refuse from multiple households. In these cases (this is the case for household groups G, M, and Ya’ab), the way in which this may affect statistical and pattern analysis of the archaeological record of these households is discussed where relevant in the text.

can’t be dated based on typology and stylistic traits alone. These artifacts, the dating of which relied on the dating of the ceramics included within their find context, become almost impossible to date with any accuracy when materials from different time periods are mixed. Thus, while the contents of a collapse layer with mixed chronological data may tell us when different construction phases took place, and which ceramics belonged to each, they can rarely reveal what period the included chert, obsidian, bone, miscellaneous, etc. materials belonged to. Alternative dating methods for such materials, while they exist in some cases, are usually expensive, time-consuming, and impractical for the dating of large numbers of artifacts. In this way, data originating from collapse layers with mixed chronological contexts often obscures any chronological patterns that might have been detected if the artifacts had been found in situ. Similarly, any patterns that might have been visible in the case different refuse deposits had been used for the construction fill of different architectural elements would also have become obscured. The distinction between refuse deposits corresponding to specific activities, while already problematic when found in tertiary deposit contexts within in situ construction fill, becomes practically impossible in collapse layers. Specific activities and specializations may still be detected in the assemblages corresponding to such contexts based on specific artifacts, artifact concentrations, and relative quantities, but any information about specific location, associated artifacts, or even the organization of the refuse associated with it become completely obscured in mixed collapse layers.

Throughout this study, artifacts originating from construction fill in household contexts are considered to be part of a permanent refuse deposit. Although these are tertiary deposits, mixes of artifacts from many possible household sources, and with possibly mixed chronologies, they do provide a wealth of information about the artifacts that are associated with the household. 3.4.2.2.2. Collapse layers While construction fill contexts, although they are the result of a tertiary deposit of artifacts, can still be considered as in situ contexts, this is not the case for collapse layers. Indeed, in most cases, ancient Maya structures have (partially) collapsed over time, resulting in the collapse layers that are responsible for the largest amounts of artifacts found in Uxul. Such layers consist of the collapsed materials of the roofs, walls, retaining walls, and construction fill of the structure in question. Because of the uncontrolled nature of collapse events, materials from different parts of the structure often become mixed together and indistinguishable from each other in the archaeological record. If any separation existed between different refuse deposits used in the construction of different architectural elements (either because they were constructed at a different date during a different construction phase, or because one element included mainly materials from one temporary refuse deposit and the other from a different one), such distinctions are almost inevitably obscured in collapse layers. This means that collapse layers, more than intact construction fill, almost by definition represent mixed contexts, further lowering the resolution and amount of details that can be gained from their interpretation.

Another loss of information that occurs in collapse layers is that of the possible identification of special caches contained within the collapsed architecture. Where a cache of meaningful objects deposited together intentionally, in a specific location, or in a specific arrangement within the construction fill would have been visible during its excavation, such instances are obscured in collapse layers. Indeed, such caches become displaced, disarranged, and (to a degree) separated during collapse, and mix in with the general materials corresponding to the construction fill. While it is possible in some cases to identify some objects as having been part of such a cache (for example in the case of a concentration of special objects found close together, special objects that are intact and unlikely to have been discarded, or rare materials that are known to have been used for similar caches), their contents often become too mixed in with the general construction fill to be identifiable. Even when the contents of such a cache can, to an extent, be identified, their arrangement, location, and possible association with other artifacts are lost, obscuring the meanings and intentions behind their inclusion in the architecture.

The mixing of construction fill from different construction phases is particularly problematic. Indeed, while some types of artifacts can be dated individually, regardless of their find context (such as ceramics), many artifact types

While collapse layers, even though they are the result of post-depositional processes affecting tertiary artifact deposits, meaning most information about their primary contexts has been lost, are problematic contexts, they can 66

Uxul still provide a wealth of information about those who lived in the household contexts of which they are part. Although many details about activities, specializations, and consumption of the household they belonged to are lost, they provide a possibility for the study of artifact patterns and relative concentrations that can, in comparison with the assemblages of other household contexts, provide much information about what happened in those households, even when more detailed questions of when and where are obscured.

were at the time of the eruption), people abandoning a site or household typically don’t leave everything behind as it was when they decided to leave. Typically, people take at least a part of their still usable artifacts, tools, and intact belongings with them (to the degree that they can transport them and can’t easily replace them) when they leave a household for a new place, especially if they do not intend to return. Furthermore, the abandonment of structures, especially in ancient Mesoamerica, is often accompanied by termination events, including (but not limited to) ceremonial depositions, symbolic closings of doorways or spaces, ritual destruction of features and structural elements, burning, etc. Thus, not only does household abandonment typically include the removal of large parts of the household assemblage, but in some cases, it also meant that new artifacts were introduced that are related only to the abandonment of the living space, rather than to its occupation.

3.4.2.3. Analyzing archaeological household assemblages An important approach to the study of economic systems in ancient Uxul, and the role of different households within those systems, is the study of artifact patterns relating to consumption and production. Such patterns allow for an understanding of the differences between individual households, as well as patterns relating to socio-economic differences. In order to study such patterns, I examine the composition of household assemblages, revealing patterns relating to the presence of high value and exotic artifacts, utilitarian artifacts, ceremonial artifacts, artifacts relating to craft-production and the performance of services, as well as to the diversity and quality of these artifact assemblages.

Since much of the original household assemblage would have been taken away and cleaned up, the largest source for in situ artifacts relating to household occupation in the archaeological record is typically refuse deposits. This includes both temporary household refuse deposits, as well as permanent ones used as construction fill (see 3.4.2.2 Data contexts). Additionally, activity areas may be identified through remaining (semi-)permanent features as well as artifact scatterings related to that activity if they haven’t been thoroughly cleaned away. Caches and burials form a third source of information about household occupation if they were included in the household before abandonment. Such in situ contexts have very different formation histories, however, reflecting different types of household processes, and are not directly comparable to each other, as the numbers of artifacts and their implications for our interpretation of the archaeological record vary depending on the context.

However, the archaeological assemblages of different households are often not easily compared. In order to determine how to compare such assemblages, and what the results of such an analysis mean for our interpretation of the observed patterns, it is important to understand how the available data ended up in the archaeological record, and how we as archaeologists revealed and recorded it. Indeed, since none of the households in Uxul were excavated in their entirety, it is obvious that no complete archaeological household assemblages have been recorded. Even if they had been excavated completely, however, depositional and post-depositional processes mean that the complete archaeological assemblages would not correspond directly to actual ancient household assemblages. There are a number of obvious reasons for this, the first being that ancient household assemblages would have included large quantities of organic and perishable materials which did not survive in the archaeological record in the humid and hot jungle environment of Uxul. Thus, by definition, a large and important part of the household assemblages are unknown and undetectable in the archaeological record.

In cases where ancient households have not been completely excavated in particular, as is the case in Uxul, this means that simply comparing absolute numbers of artifacts found in different households may not be useful. Indeed, depending on what portions of the household have been excavated, and whether these included temporary trash deposits, construction fill or collapse layers, caches, burials, and/or identifiable activity areas, different total numbers of artifacts may be recovered from the same excavated volume. Refuse deposits in particular typically contain large amounts of artifacts per cubic meter. This means that if a refuse deposit is excavated in the context of one household but not in the other, for example, simply comparing the absolute numbers of a specific material category may lead to the impression that the household with the excavated refuse deposit context was wealthier or engaged in a particular type of activity more than the household where no such context was found.

A second important reason that archaeological household assemblages are rarely complete is that they typically don’t represent the assemblages of active, living households, but rather what people left behind when abandoning the place: a post-abandonment assemblage. Except for rare cases in which people had no time to plan to leave a place because of catastrophic events (such as in the famous cases of Pompeii, Italy, and Joya de Ceren, El Salvador, where sudden volcanic eruptions left inhabitants no time to flee with their belongings, and the subsequent deposition of layers of ash preserved structures and artifacts as they

Furthermore, in cases where households are not excavated in their entirety, it is common that excavations in different households do not reveal a similar portion of the 67

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands household in each of the domestic contexts, depending on the size of the household group, the duration of excavations, and the nature of excavations. Indeed, in the case of Uxul excavations took place during several field seasons within some household groups (such as groups K, M, Ak’, and Ya’ab), while other household groups were only extensively investigated during a single field season (such as groups Baak, G, K’áak’, Ma’ax, Pu’uk, and Wob). Furthermore, depending on excavation strategies, specific features found and excavated, and the size of the excavation teams, all household excavations did not displace the same amount of cubic meters in the same amount of time.

cubic meter excavated. This is done by considering artifact counts either as a percentage of the total assemblage, or by comparing the numbers of rarer artifacts to the class of artifacts that is most abundantly and consistently present and dominant in domestic archaeological assemblages: the number of ceramic sherds. While this obscures issues related to absolute quantities, it enables us to examine and compare the archaeological household assemblages in terms of prevalence. In this way hypotheses related to differences in wealth can be tested. For example, it is expected that expensive goods, such as high-quality ceramics, exotic artifacts, and scarce materials are more abundant in wealthy household contexts than in poor ones. While it can’t be tested whether this is true in absolute numbers, the relative amounts of such artifacts can give insight into consumption patterns and differences therein between the rich and the poor. Similarly, this strategy can allow for the identification of specialized activities in cases where workshops have not been found: if a specific type of tool or material is much more represented in one household than the others, it may indicate the presence of specialized activities involving them that were not performed in other households.

It should be noted that in the case of artifacts relating to specific activity areas, workshops, or features, when they are not found within the context of a household that was not completely excavated, it is possible that it was simply missed but may still have existed. Thus, analysis of the presence of activity areas, workshops, or specialized activities can be obtained from incomplete data, but the absence of such data does not prove the absence of such activities. Therefore, throughout this book, specialized activities and craft production are discussed in their context when they are identified, but they are not assumed to be absent from other household contexts where they were not found. The same goes for features such as caches and burials: just because they have not been found does not mean that they did not exist. However, general trends in the presence or absence of specialized activities and features may still be derived from their identification, as long as the sample is representative: if a specialized activity is systematically only found in one type or size of household and not in others, it may be justified to assume that it did not occur in those other households, even though its absence can’t be proven.

Analyzing classes of artifacts in relative terms as a proportion of the assemblage, however, is only useful when the artifact class is relatively abundant, and its numbers are likely to be broadly representative. For Uxul, this is the case not only for common utilitarian ceramics, but also for artifact classes such as polychrome ceramics, obsidian, chert, shell, and ritual implements, for example. Although some of these artifact classes are not very abundant, their numbers are high enough that their broad distribution can be studied using relative proportions. However, the distribution of rare artifacts, such as greenstone materials, and highly specialized tools, for example, can’t be usefully analyzed using this approach. Indeed, when such artifacts correspond to sporadic finds, and no more than a few of such artifacts are found in any given context, it is unlikely that the ones that were found correspond to a sample representative of their distribution. Unlike an abundant material, the complete or near absence or a rare one from an excavation context is much more likely to be the result of sampling error than indicative of an actual pattern. Such materials are therefore not analyzed as a proportion of total assemblages, but rather in a more detailed examination of individual find contexts in order to detect possible patterns.

Overall, this means that the absolute numbers of artifacts found during the excavation of each of the extensively excavated households do not correspond to actual amounts associated with the household. Instead, they form a sample of the actual household inventory, and are the result of a number of formation processes and investigation biases. However, when a household has been extensively excavated the recorded archaeological assemblage may be considered to be a representative sample of the complete assemblage. That is to say that, as long as relatively large amounts of household refuse are included within the archaeological excavations, and assuming that generalized household refuse is (barring exceptions and differences of durability of specific materials) broadly representative of the household inventory, the results of extensive household excavations are considered to be not only representative of the inventory of that household, but also comparable with the assemblages of other households.

The composition of archaeological assemblages and the comparison of proportions of artifact classes, rather than absolute numbers, are used throughout this study, both out of necessity (as absolute numbers are unknown) and because of their interpretational value. While such an approach may obscure absolute differences between households, it allows for a range of analyses related to consumption and production patterns, measures of diversity, specialization, and economic exchange networks (see Chapter 2: Theory and methods). It allows for a broad examination of representative household patterns needed for a better understanding of the ancient Uxul

In order to measure the distribution of specific types of artifacts among households, then, the composition of the archaeological household assemblages needs to be compared, rather than their absolute numbers or a count per 68

Uxul economic system as a whole. The exact ways in which the analysis of the distribution patterns of different artifact classes are dealt with in this research are explained in more detail in the chapters relating to these different artifact classes.

From the surface, it seems to have consisted of three rooms without vaulted roofs and doorways to the west looking out over the larger patio. The exterior walls were about 50 cm thick, while the separation walls between the rooms were about 1 m thick. A looters’ pit was dug into the central room. Structure 3: square pyramidal base structure, located on the southern edge of the platform, 10 × 10 m and 4 m high. From the surface, it seems to have had a stairway on the north side, overlooking the larger patio. Evidence of a masonry superstructure was found. A looters’ pit was dug into the top of the structure and a wide looters’ trench into its western side. Structures 4 and 5: rectangular structures forming an L in the southwestern corner of the platform, with Structure 4 having an east-west orientation and Structure 5 a north-south one. Structure 4 is about 20 m long, and Structure 5 about 12 meters. It could not be determined from the surface how many rooms the structures contained, but they seem not to have had a vaulted stone roof. Directly north of Structure 5, the platform rises by about 25 cm where the lower larger patio transitions into the higher smaller patio. Structure 6: small platform located between Structure 5 to the south and Structure 7 to the west, limiting the access to the smaller patio. A shallow looters’ pit was dug in its center. Structure 7: forms the eastern side of the smaller patio, separating it from the larger one, with a north-south orientation. It has an entrance on the west side, looking out over the smaller patio, and is connected to Structure 8 to the north with a low wall. It may have had a vaulted stone roof. Structure 8: almost square structure north of Structure 7 on the west side of the smaller patio. From the surface, it seems to have had a vaulted stone roof and an entrance on the western side looking out into the smaller patio. A looters’ pit was dug into the top of the structure. Structure 9: platform on the western edge of the group, directly adjacent to Structure 1. It was not visible from the surface, and only the northeastern corner was observed during the excavation of Structure 1 during the field season of 2013 (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 191). Complete dimensions are therefore unknown.

3.5. Presentation of the ten extensively excavated households 3.5.1. Group Ak’ Group Ak’ was first mapped by Nicolaus Seefeld, Sven Bayer, and Beniamino Volta in 2010 (see Figure 3.6) (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 12). It is located some 500 meters south of the center of Uxul (Miller-Sisson 2012, 199). This large, clearly elite group consists of a raised rectangular platform of 65 by 65 meters, built on a natural rise in the landscape, dominating the surrounding landscape by about 4 m (Miller-Sisson 2012, 199; Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 185; Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 12). On the platform 8 structures were arranged around two adjacent patios, a large open one to the east and a smaller, more restricted one in the northwestern corner of the platform (Miller-Sisson 2012, 199). The group showed evidence of the presence of stone-roofed structures, a ceremonial pyramidal structure, and the processing of food as evidenced by metates on the surface (Miller-Sisson 2012, 199). Five quarries were identified very close to the group (Miller-Sisson 2012, 199). The group had been quite heavily sacked, with seven looters’ pits and trenches having been identified (MillerSisson 2012, 200; Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 12). Although the architectural group was organized into two patio spaces, these are closely connected to each other. The smaller patio in the northwestern corner was open only to the southeast, with a passage between Structures 5 and 7 leading to it from the larger patio. This means that the only way to access the smaller, more private, patio was through the larger, more open one. Occupants of the residential structures bordering both patios thus would have used the larger patio as common space, and the two can’t be clearly separated. While there may have been a separation in the day-to-day life in both patios, the two are clearly linked and integrated with each other, and are therefore considered to have been part of a single residential unit. Description of the structures as based on initial survey (Miller-Sisson 2012, 200): Structure 1: located in the northwestern corner of the platform with an east-west orientation. From the surface, it seems to have consisted of two rooms with vaulted stone roofs and doorways to the south looking out over the smaller patio. Two looters’ pits were dug, one in each room. Structure 2: located in the center of the eastern edge of the platform with a north-south orientation.

History of research The architectural group was first excavated by Misha Miller-Sisson during the field season of 2012 with the goal of learning more about the presence of secondary elites, as well as about the way people lived outside of the city 69

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 3.6. Group Ak’, locations of excavations shown in grey (after Miller-Sisson 2012, 199).

center (Miller-Sisson 2012, 199). Three stratigraphic test pits, one in each patio and a third inside of the central room of Structure 2, as well as two trenches through Structure 2, were excavated in order to determine the construction

sequence of the groups and confirm its residential nature (Miller-Sisson 2012, 199). During the field season of 2013, excavations continued in Group Ak’ under Misha Miller-Sisson’s supervision in order 70

Uxul to get a more complete idea of the functions of the different structures and the group as a whole (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 185). Structures 1 and 3 were excavated horizontally (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 185). Additionally, three test pits measuring 2 by 2 meters were excavated, one in the northeastern corner of the larger patio, one through the bench inside of the central room of Structure 2, and one in the southwestern corner of the group in front of Structures 4 and 5 (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 185).

Sisson 2012, 201). The smaller patio was built on a part of the natural outcrop of bedrock that was about 1.5 m lower than under the larger patio (Miller-Sisson 2012, 205). This means that in order to level off the entire platform, retaining walls were built in a grid using large irregular stones and mortar, filled with layers of large stones and earth mixed with chiich (Miller-Sisson 2012, 205). On top of this, a first floor of compacted earth was constructed at the same level as the oldest floor level in the larger patio (Miller-Sisson 2012, 205), indicating they were part of the same and oldest construction phase. During a subsequent phase, a floor made of very hard stucco was constructed at the same level as the floor from the second phase observed in the larger patio (Miller-Sisson 2012, 205). This floor had a slight inclination towards the southwest, probably to allow water to drain away from the patio to the exterior of the group (Miller-Sisson 2012, 205). On top of this floor, a third stucco floor was later built on a base of compacted earth, chiich, and mortar, still at the same level as the third floor in the larger patio (Miller-Sisson 2012, 203). During the last construction phase, a floor made of compacted clay was constructed at 252.20 m above sea level, on top of a constructive base layer of earth and chiich (MillerSisson 2012, 203). This latest floor was elevated about 30 cm higher than the latest floor in the larger patio, finally differentiating the two into the lower and higher patio that can be observed on the surface (Miller-Sisson 2012, 203). It is unclear whether the group was differentiated into two patios from the start, or whether Structures 8 and 7 were built during a later phase to separate the platform into separate spaces.

Excavation results Larger patio In the middle of the lower, larger patio, a test pit measuring 2 by 2 meters was dug down to the bedrock during the 2012 field season (Miller-Sisson 2012, 201). In 2013 an additional test pit was excavated in the northeastern corner of the patio (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 187). Clear evidence of at least three floor levels was found in the middle of the patio, and a fourth may have existed as well (Miller-Sisson 2012, 201). The oldest floor was identified by a layer of chiich, although no stucco was found (MillerSisson 2012, 201). This layer was constructed on top of two layers of earth mixed with medium stones (Miller-Sisson 2012, 201), which probably represent the construction fill used to level off the platform on top of the natural outcrop of bedrock, and used as a basis on which to build the first floor surface. During a second phase, a second floor made of stucco, which was very well preserved, was constructed using the first floor as a basis (Miller-Sisson 2012, 201). A third floor level, identified by some remains of stucco on top of a layer of earth mixed with small stones, was built during a subsequent construction phase (Miller-Sisson 2012, 201). In a last construction phase, a new floor was again built on top of the old ones, as evidenced by a layer of earth mixed with chiich (Miller-Sisson 2012, 201). This latest floor level connects to the stucco floor found directly in front of Structure 2, suggesting that the patio would have been covered with stucco in its entirety, although it has since disappeared in the center of the less sheltered patio (Miller-Sisson 2012, 201). This also suggests that the last construction phase of the patio coincides with that of Structure 2.

Structure 1 This structure in the northwestern corner of the platform, on the northern edge of the smaller patio, was excavated in its entirety using horizontal excavation in order to determine its layout and function (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 190). The structure had been looted in two places with one pit in the western half and one in the eastern (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 190). Structure 1 was built on top of a 1 meter high basal platform that could be ascended with a broad stairway consisting of three steps south of the building (MillerSisson and Volta 2013, 191). An elevated porch of 1 meter wide looked out over the small patio (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 191). The southwestern corner of the platform is directly adjacent to Structure 9 (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 191).

In the test pit in the northeastern corner of the patio, on the other hand, only one construction phase consisting of a basis of construction fill with the remnants of a stucco floor on top was found (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 187). This floor level corresponds to the last construction phase identified in the center of the patio, and the stucco floor would have connected to the ones found in front of Structure 2 and in the middle of the patio (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 187). This may indicate that the platform was initially smaller, and was enlarged to its current extent only during the last construction phase of the group.

The structure consists of a front and a back room (MillerSisson and Volta 2013, 190). It was constructed on the northern edge of the platform. Because the northern retaining wall of the platform has partially collapsed, most of the northern room of the structure has disappeared (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 190). Based on the thickness of the walls as well as on the volume of the structure derrumbe excavated, it is estimated that the structure would have had a vaulted stone roof (MillerSisson and Volta 2013, 190). In both of the rooms, the floor

Smaller patio In the center of the smaller, higher patio a 2 by 2 meter test pit was excavated during the 2012 field season (Miller71

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands and walls had been covered with stucco (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 190).

built in the same construction phase as the floor and not added at a later point in time (Miller-Sisson 2012, 209). The bench was excavated using a test pit of 2 by 2 meters and did not contain a burial (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 187). The sides were made with nicely worked stone masonry and the bench was filled in with a constructive fill of mortar and large stones (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 188).

The front room, with a 1.4 meter wide entrance overlooking the smaller patio, contains two large benches, one on the western side and one on the eastern side (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 190). A 1.4 meter wide passage in the middle of the north wall of the room leading to the back room can still be identified but was completely closed off with a masonry wall (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 190).

Unlike the patios, it seems that this structure was built in a single construction phase, coinciding with the construction of the eastern retaining wall of the platform (Miller-Sisson 2012, 210; Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 187). Since the floor level directly in front of the structure corresponds to the floor constructed during the last construction phase as observed in the test pits in the patio, it is possible that this structure was added only during this last phase, at the same time the patio was extended. The construction of this structure therefore represents an expansion of the architectural group to the east during the Late Classic period (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 188).

Structure 2 During the field season of 2012, the central room of Structure 2 was excavated in order to determine the function of the building (Miller-Sisson 2012, 205). A trench of 6 meters north-south by 8 meters east-west was excavated (Miller-Sisson 2012, 206). Additionally, a test pit of 2 by 2 meters was excavated in the center of the room in order to determine the chronology of the construction of the structure (Miller-Sisson 2012, 209). In the southwestern corner of the central room, looters had dug a pit of approximately 0.5 by 1 m through the stucco floor (Miller-Sisson 2012, 206).

Structure 3 Structure 3 is a pyramidal building located in the southeastern corner of the platform (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 192). It measures 10 by 10 meters at the base and is 4 meters high from the surface of the patio (MillerSisson and Volta 2013, 192). During the final phase of the structure, it consisted of a series of superimposed stepped levels, the lowest of which seems to have a taludtablero composition (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 193). The levels seem to have been constructed during a single construction phase using carved stone for the surface and irregular stones which become smaller towards the top for the fill (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 193).

The walls of the structure are made of stone, and there is a 2 meter wide entrance on the western side, looking out over the larger patio (Miller-Sisson 2012, 205). The outside of the front wall was made of well-worked smooth stones, while the interior of the walls of the room are more irregular, and was probably covered with stucco, as evidenced by the pieces of stucco found in the derrumbe inside the room (Miller-Sisson 2012, 205). The walls are about 50 cm thick, and would not have supported a stone vaulted roof (Miller-Sisson 2012, 207–10). The central room measures 6 m north-south by 4 m eastwest (Miller-Sisson 2012, 205). The eastern, outside wall of the structure was built directly on top of the retaining base wall of the platform (Miller-Sisson 2012, 206). The stucco floor inside the central room was laid on a base layer of chiich, used to level the constructive fill underneath (Miller-Sisson 2012, 209). The floor slopes slightly to the east, towards the back wall of the structure (Miller-Sisson 2012, 205). This is probably the result of the partial collapse of the edge of the platform, resulting in the breakdown of the constructive fill underneath the back wall of the structure (Miller-Sisson 2012, 205).

In the final construction phase, the structure had an access stairway to the north, overlooking the larger patio, consisting of eight steps, with a 2 meter wide porch after the first three steps (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 192). The first three steps are as wide as the northern façade of the structure, and the last five (leading from the porch to the top) are centered and 4 meters wide (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 192). The stairway was constructed using large monolithic carved stone blocks (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 192). Fragments of stucco found on the upper part of the stairway suggest the presence of stucco ornamentation (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 192).

A bench covered with stucco is located against the northern wall of the central room (Miller-Sisson 2012, 205). It measures 1.5 meters north-south by 2.5 m eastwest and was 50 cm high (Miller-Sisson 2012, 209). While it covered the entire length of the northern wall of the room, a corner of about 50 by 50 cm was left open, creating a small open space directly north of the entrance of the room (Miller-Sisson 2012, 207). Traces of red paint could be seen on the stucco on top of the bench (MillerSisson 2012, 209). The stucco covering the floor continues onto the bench, indicating that the two were covered with stucco at the same time, and therefore that the bench was

The top of the platform consists of a flat surface with the basis of a stone superstructure (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 192–93). The superstructure was heavily damaged due to collapse and looting, but three subsequent construction phases could be identified (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 193–94). The floor and bench were covered with stucco with traces of red paint still visible (MillerSisson and Volta 2013, 194). In the southern room of the superstructure on top of Structure 3, a ritual deposit of three superimposed red 72

Uxul plates placed face down was found underneath the floor corresponding to the first construction phase (MillerSisson and Volta 2013, 195).

polychrome sherds (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 195). Unfortunately, any information that might have told us more about the identity of the individual was destroyed or taken away by the looters.

In front of the structure, a test pit was excavated in order to determine the connection between the construction phases of the structure with those of the patio (MillerSisson and Volta 2013, 192). The structure can be linked to the construction phases identified elsewhere on the platform, showing that the structure, unlike Structure 2 and the eastern side of the patio, would have been part of the original configuration of the group (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 195). On the stucco floor associated with the second construction phase in the rest of the patio, alterations were visible where an extension of the structure would have been constructed and demolished before the building of the subsequent construction phase (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 192). The stucco floor corresponding to the third construction phase of the platform presented evidence of postholes associated with the pyramidal structure (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 192). The final phase of the pyramid is associated with the latest phase stucco floor found elsewhere in the patio (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 192), indicating that the final construction phase of Structure 3 coincides with the final construction phase of the platform in general.

Trash deposits In the corner to the west of Structure 1 and to the north of Structure 9 a trash deposit was found (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 191). It consisted mainly of fine ceramics, with a high concentration of polychrome sherds, as well as numerous lithic artifacts, two figurine heads, part of a whistle, a grinding stone, and pieces of shell (MillerSisson and Volta 2013, 191). Directly around the bench of the superstructure on top of Structure 3, a large number of ceramic sherds was recovered (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 194). Most are fragments of pots typically used for the transport and storage of water, but some sherds of fine wares, sometimes polychrome or decorated with incisions representing seated figures and hieroglyphic texts, were also found (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 194). Because of the obvious ceremonial nature of the structure, as well as the composition of this trash deposit, it can be hypothesized that this is the result of ceremonial activities performed on the structure, possibly related to water (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 194). 3.5.2. Group Baak

Structures 4 and 5 In the southwestern corner of the larger patio, a test pit measuring 2 by 2 meters was excavated at the connection between Structures 4 and 5 (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 189). Three construction phases were identified, consisting of two stucco floor levels and a wall base (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 189). The wall base was built during the first construction phase and would have been part of Structure 5 (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 190). During a second phase, however, a stucco floor was constructed on top of this wall base, indicating that the configuration of Structures 4 and 5 changed significantly at this time (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 190). In a third phase, this floor was covered in a layer of chiich forming the base of a stucco floor (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 189). An adolescent individual was buried in a cist beneath the third phase floor (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 190). The stratigraphy shows that this burial was dug through the stucco floor of the second constructive phase, located directly above the wall base of the first constructive phase, and was probably made just before the construction of the floor of the third phase (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 190). On top of the cist, an upside-down bowl was deposited (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 190).

Group Baak was first mapped and recorded by Beniamino Volta, Rigoberto Cruz Silva, and José Miguel Rodrígues Muñoz during the field season of 2011 (see Figure 3.7) (Volta 2011). The large elite group is located in the very southwestern part of Uxul, on the southern edge of the meseta. It consists of eight structures organized into two patios open to the south (Volta 2011, 50). The western patio (11 × 30 m) is smaller than the eastern one (26 × 30 m) but elevated above it by 1.4 m (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 213; Volta 2011, 50). The group showed evidence of the presence of several stone-roofed structures as well as perishable ones (Volta 2011, 50). The foundation of two walls on the western side of the western patio may have served to close off access to it from the west (Volta 2011, 50). There was a chultun 30 m to the west of the group and a large quarry 15 m to the east (Volta 2011, 50). The group is directly adjacent to the edge of the meseta which descends 9 m to the bajo in the southeast (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 213). The group was quite heavily looted, with nine looters’ trenches having been identified in the structures of the western patio (Volta 2011, 49). Human bones were found associated with one of the looters’ trenches, indicating the presence of a grave in one of the structures, and giving the name to the group (B’aak means “bone” in Yucatec) (Volta 2011, 48–50).

Burials While the superstructure on top of Structure 3 was heavily looted, it is assumed that there was a burial, probably of high status, underneath it within the constructive fill of the pyramid (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 195). This is indicated by the presence of several human phalanges, teeth, as well as incised ceramics, a jade bead, and

Although the architectural compound was organized into two separate patios, the structure separating the two, Structure 4, was clearly open to both patios. This means that the inhabitants of both patios had access to this 73

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 3.7. Group Baak, location of excavations in grey (after Volta 2011, 49).

common space, and a separation between the two can’t be made. The group is therefore considered to have been a single household.

Structure 4: north-south oriented structure separating the eastern and western patios. It was probably vaulted, possibly with a double gallery, and measured 8 × 29 m, 2.6 m high from the eastern patio surface, 1.2 m from the western patio surface. It seems to have had two entrances, which probably connected the two patios to each other. It had three looters’ trenches on its eastern side. Structure 5: located on the northern side of the western patio with an east-west orientation. It was vaulted and measured 7.5 × 16.5 m, 2 m high, with one entrance. It was heavily looted with four looters’ trenches in which two ceramic polychrome drums were found. On the western side, a low 17 m long wall curving to the south restricted access through the northwestern corner of the patio. Structure 6: located on the western side of the western patio with a north-south orientation. It measured 8 × 12 m and was 70 cm high. Two looters’ trenches were dug into this structure on the western side. A low, 14.5 m long U-shaped wall restricted access through the

Description of the structures as based on initial survey (Volta 2011, 49–51): Structure 1: eastern structure of the group forming the eastern limit of the eastern patio, measuring 8 × 26 m, 2 m high from the patio surface. It was probably a stone vaulted structure. It seems that a stairway led up to it from outside the patio, meaning that it may have had a passage through it allowing for entry to the patio from the east. Structure 2: located on the north side of the eastern patio with an east-west orientation. It was probably vaulted, and measured 9 × 30 m (meaning it was the largest structure of the group), 2 m high from the patio surface. It seems to have had three entrances. Structure 3: low U-shaped (open to the north) platform located in the western part of the eastern patio. It measured 4 × 5 m, 15 cm high from the patio surface. 74

Uxul southwestern corner of the patio, enclosing a space between structures 6 and 7. Structure 7: small platform located south of structure 6 with an east-west orientation. It measured 4.5 × 7.5 m, 10 cm high. It seems to have been the base of a perishable structure with an entrance to the north. Structure 8: located south of structure 7 with a northsouth orientation, forming the southwestern corner of the western patio. It measured 5 × 9 m. It seems to have been the base of a perishable structure with an entrance to the west, the exterior of the group.

side of the room, measuring 1 × 1.4 m and 0.5 m high (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 220). The inside floor and bench were covered with stucco. Two construction phases could be observed in the stairway and the base-platform of the structure, dating to the Early and Late Classic. Burials Five burials were identified within the excavation area of structure 5, as well as a possible cache. These were all placed within the construction fill of the platform on which the structure was built (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 221). Almost all were looted and only contained fragments of bone or ritual deposits, and only one burial was found in situ (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 221).

History of research

A cist was found in the construction fill of the platform in front of structure 5. It was looted, but fragments of bone and teeth (probably belonging to a child), as well as two shell flakes, were probably part of the burial (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 221). Another burial cist (disturbed by looting) was found in the construction fill of the first construction phase of the platform at the back of the structure, containing the remains of an adult individual (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 221). A small cist with a complete vessel (Carmelita Inciso cajete) was installed on top of this burial and may have contained a ritual cache, although its contents were looted (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 221). The fragments of polychrome drums were found mainly within the debris of this looters’ trench indicating that they may have been part of the cache or burial found here (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 221). A third cist probably containing a burial was located next to these within the construction fill, but was greatly disturbed by tree-root growth and could not be excavated (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 222). In the northwestern corner of the structure, in another looters’ trench, a cist was found with fragments of human bone and a complete vessel associated with it (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 222).

Excavation took place in group Baak during the 2012 field season under the direction of Hannes Flück and Felix A. Kupprat (Flück and Kupprat 2012). Horizontal excavation of structure 5 was performed to the surface of its latest construction phase, two 1 × 1 m test pits were dug to understand the chronology of the group, and the four looters’ trenches dug into the structure were cleaned (Flück and Kupprat 2012). The goals of this excavation were to better understand the elite of the southwestern area of the site and the role they played in this peripheral area (Grube, Delvendahl, and Benavides Castillo 2013). Additionally, the presence of looters’ trenches allowed, after proper excavation, for a better understanding of the chronology and construction phases of the structure, as well as providing information on the context of the elaborate polychrome ceramic drums found there the year before (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 214). Excavation results Structure 5 The structure was built on the northern edge of a platform built on a low outcrop of bedrock (using the cajones de relleno technique) to stabilize and level the patio floors (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 217). The platform was 1.3 m high with a stairway leading up to it from the patio in the south (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 217). The stairs consisted of four steps of about 30 cm high and spanned most of the length of the platform, about 8 m wide (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 219). The floor of the platform, the stairs, and the exterior of the front-facing wall seem to have been covered with stucco (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 217).

In the construction fill of the stairway in front of the structure, a cist was found with a north-south orientation (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 222). The human remains were badly preserved, but probably belonged to an adult individual. An upside-down plate with a perforation in the center was placed on the face of the individual, and a miniature bottle was included in the burial (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 224–25). The wall of the structure was built directly on top of the northern part of the cist, indicating it was included when the platform and structure were first constructed (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 224). Indeed, the burial was dated to the end of the Early Classic period (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 226).

The structure on top of the platform had a stone vaulted roof and consisted of a single gallery with one entrance to the patio (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 219). The outside face of the front wall was made of very regular rectangular stones, while the inside was made with much more irregularly shaped ones (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 219). The entrance was located centrally in the building’s façade and was1.8 m wide (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 219). The inside room is 2.4 m wide and seems to have spanned the entire structure (about 10 m long), making it a single room building (Flück and Kupprat 2012, 220). A bench was found at the eastern

3.5.3. Group G Group G was first mapped during the 2007 field season (see Figure 3.8) (Grube and Paap 2008, 18). The group is located to the northeast of the center of Uxul in a flat area of the site on the southern edge of the corriental separating the central and northern mesetas (Grube and 75

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 3.8. Group G, locations of the excavations in grey (after Kościuk 2014, 130).

Paap 2008, 18; Kościuk 2014, 128). It is well defined as an architectural unit by the open spaces surrounding it, and is composed of 26 densely grouped structures forming four ill-defined patios (Grube and Paap 2008, 18; Kościuk

2014, 128). From the surface, it can be assumed that most of the structures were domestic, although no chultunes or metates were identified during the survey (Grube and Paap 2008, 18). The group is composed of four separate 76

Uxul household units, each of which would have belonged to a relatively wealthy class of Uxul society, but not to the highest elite. A number of the largest structures showed evidence of looting (Grube and Paap 2008, 18).

and size, and therefore of similar levels of wealth and status, any patterns seen with regard to the composition of artifact assemblages and its correlation to wealth or status are broadly maintained, and not significantly different from what would have been the case if it had been possible to separate the artifact assemblages by individual household. Some artifacts were found in situ, however, and clearly associated with an individual household, in which case the household in question is always specified in the text. The most extensive excavations took place in household patio group G2, and this is also the one that will be focused on throughout this study.

The first patio group, residential unit G1, is separated from the rest, and located about 20 m north of the G2 patio group. It is composed of only two structures, forming an informal patio between them. Residential units G2, G3, and G4 are much more closely related to each other, with little to no space in between them. However, because of their layout as three separate patios, they can be identified as three separate residential units. Residential unit G2 is the northernmost of this cluster, and forms an L-shaped patio surrounded by ten structures. Residential unit G3 is located directly to the south of G2, and forms a patio surrounded by eight structures. While the separation between the patio groups of G2 and G3 is not very clear, they are separated by Structure 7, the orientation of which is to the north, and which is connected to other structures that are clearly part of the G2 patio. This permits for the identification of this structure as being part of the patio of residential unit G2, rather than G3, and makes it unlikely that it functioned as a common space for the two patios. The two patios, although closely connected, can therefore be identified as two separate residential patio groups. The final residential unit, G4, is located on the eastern side of the compound, east of G3, and is composed of six structures surrounding a small, narrow patio.

Description of the structures based on initial mapping (Grube and Paap 2008, 18–20; Kościuk 2014, 130): G1: Structure 2: structure located outside of the main group to the north, with a roughly north-south orientation. It measures 15.5 × 6 m and is conserved up to 2.5 m high. Structure 3: structure located outside of the main group to the north, in front of Structure 2, with a roughly north-south orientation. It measures 10 × 2.5 m and is conserved up to 1.1 m high. G2: Structure 1: elongated structure located on the northern edge of the G2 patio with an east-west orientation. It measures 42.5 × 6.5 m and is conserved up to 2.2 m high. A looters’ trench was dug into the northern side. Structure 4: structure boarding the G2 patio on the east, adjacent to Structure 1, with a north-south orientation. It measures 7.5 × 5.5 m and is conserved up to 2.2 m high. Structure 5: structure in the southeastern corner of the G2 patio, adjacent to Structure 4, with an east-west orientation. It measures 8.5 × 3 m and is conserved up to 1.8 m high. Structure 6: square structure in the south of the G2 patio with an orientation somewhat west of north (different from the rest of the group). It measures 7 × 7 m and is conserved up to 2.5 m high. A looters’ trench was dug in the northeastern corner. Structure 7: platform attached to the southern side of Structure 6, with a west of north orientation. It measures 6 × 5 m. A looters’ trench was dug on its eastern side. Structure 8: structure forming the northern edge of the G2 patio, attached to the southern side of Structure 7, with a west of north orientation. It measures 11 × 3.5 m. Two looters’ trenches were dug on the southern side. Structure 13: foundation brace-type structure in the southwestern corner of the northern patio, with a north-south orientation. It measures 9.5 × 8 m and is conserved up to 0.4 m

It should be noted, however, that because of the very close connection between the G2, G3, and G4 households, they more than likely had communal trash disposal strategies, meaning that the refuse associated with the households would have mixed. As was the case for the other extensively excavated households of Uxul, most of the artifacts found within the context of group G came from construction fill. This means that the bulk of artifacts found here were deposited as part of trash disposal and construction strategies, and were not found in situ where they were originally made or used. The origins of the refuse used as construction fill in any given household, however, can’t be definitively ascribed to that household, and it is impossible to make a useful separation between the refuse of the different households of the G compound group. While it is likely that each household patio group would have used their own refuse primarily for construction fill, it is also likely that trash was collected from the entire compound to complement construction fill, and as a permanent disposal strategy. The artifact assemblages issuing from the architectural fill of the G compound are therefore mixed contexts, and are treated throughout this book as the communal assemblage of the entire G compound unless otherwise specified. It should be noted that for the purposes of the present research, and while it means that resolution of the artifact assemblages of individual households is lost, the effect of this strategy on the results of analysis should be minimal. Indeed, because the three closely connected households were of similar elaboration 77

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands high. Traces of an oval superstructure were identified inside it. Structure 14: structure in the northwestern corner of the G2 patio, with a west of north orientation (similar to that of Structures 6, 7, and 8). It measures 7.5 × 4.5 m and is conserved up to 1.2 m high. Structure 21: square platform with a west of north orientation (the same as Structure 6, 7, and 8), connected to the eastern side of Structure 6. It measures 4.5 × 4.5 m. Structure 25: L-shaped wall in the northwestern corner of the G2 patio, connecting Structure 1 to Structure 13. It is conserved up to 0.3 m high.

Structure 20: irregularly shaped platform connected to the northwestern corner of Structure 19. It measures about 15.5 × 3.5 m and is up to 0.7 m high. Structure 22: structure on the western side of the architectural group, to the southeast of Structure 5, with an east-west orientation. It measures 8.5 × 5 m and is conserved up to 1.7 m high. Structure 23: platform on the eastern side of the architectural group, to the south of Structure 22, with a north-south orientation. It measures 9 × 4.5 m and is 0.4 m high. Structure 24: platform on the eastern edge of the architectural group, south of Structure 23, with a north-south orientation. It measures 3.5 × 3 m and is 0.4 m high.

G3: Structure 9: structure on the eastern side of the G3 patio and western side of the G4 patio, with a north-south orientation. It measures 11.9 × 9 m and is conserved up to a height of 3 m. It connects to a low rectangular platform on its southern side. A looters’ trench was dug on the eastern side of the structure. Structure 10: structure on the western edge of the architectural group, with a north-south orientation. It measures 20.5 × 5.5 m and is conserved up to 1.7 m high. Structure 11: structure in the center of the Structure 3 patio, with an east-west orientation. It measures 15.5 × 4 m and is conserved up to 1.1 m high. Structure 12: structure in the southeastern corner of the G3 patio, with an east-west orientation. It measures 11 × 5.5 m and is conserved up to 1.3 m high. Structure 15: platform on the western side of the G3 patio, with an east of north orientation (different from the rest of the group). It measures 4.5 × 2.5 m and is conserved up to 0.5 m high. Structure 16: square platform on the western side of the G3 patio, aligned on the cardinal directions. It measures 3 × 3 m and is conserved up to 0.6 m high. Structure 17: platform connected to the southeastern corner of Structure 10, with an east-west orientation. It measures 4.5 × 2 m and is 0.5 m high. Structure 26: platform on the southern side of the G3 patio, connected to Structure 12, with an east-west orientation. It measures 6.5 × 4 m and is 0.3 m high.

History of research The group first received further attention during the testpit program executed during the 2014 field season. Two test pits were excavated under the supervision of Julia Kościuk (Kościuk 2014, 129). One test pit, measuring 3 × 3 m, was located in the G3 patio west of Structure 9 (Kościuk 2014, 129). The second test-pit, measuring 2 × 2 m, was located within the G2 patio, south of Structure 1 (Kościuk 2014, 129). During the 2015 field season, Group G was further investigated under the supervision of Patrick Lackner (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015). A trench measuring 3 × 12 m was excavated from the top of Structure 9 (G3 patio) to the west (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 61). The test pit excavated during the previous year was included in this trench, and reopened in order to better understand the circular feature and its relationship to Structure 9 (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 61). Additionally, the looters’ trench on the eastern side of Structure 9 (G2 patio) was cleared, recorded, and consolidated (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 64). Another trench was dug, measuring 5 × 8 m, in order to investigate Structure 13 and the circular feature on top of it (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 61). Excavations in household G2 Structure 13 Structure 13 is situated on the western side of the G2 patio and is slightly elevated above its surroundings (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 71). It is a rectangular structure with stone-based walls, containing a circular feature in its center (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 71).

G4: Structure 18: platform on the southern side of the G4 patio, with an east-west orientation. It measures 7.5 × 4.5 m and is 0.5 m high. Structure 19: platform on the northern side of the G4 patio, with a north-south orientation. It measures 9.5 × 6.5 m and is 1m high.

The walls have been preserved up to 0.5 m high, and consist of a double row of stacked worked stones (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 71–72). The 78

Uxul floor outside of the structure was covered with stucco (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 72). Only the southern, eastern, and western walls of the structure were excavated, while the northern part was not (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 80). No entrance to the structure was found, but one may have been situated on its northern side, where Structure 13 is connected to Structure 1 by a low wall, although an entrance would rather have been expected on the eastern side where the structure faces onto the G2 patio. A northern entrance would have made the structure less accessible, and consequently more private than an eastern or western one would have done.

Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 74). The stratigraphy in this part of the excavation was not clear and the latest phase stucco floor was not preserved in this part of the structure, so that it could not be determined whether the individuals were buried before or after the construction of the second phase floor. Excavations in household G3 Structure 9 Structure 9 has a pyramidal base, and a low platform is connected to it on the southern side (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 62). On its western side, a badly conserved stairway leads from the G2 patio to the top of the pyramidal base of the structure (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 62). Further excavation of the stairway revealed that it was built on top of an older, lower stairway, corresponding to an earlier construction phase (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 64). On top of the structure, a stucco floor was found (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 62–63).

Inside the walls of Structure 13, at least two construction phases were identified. A stucco floor built on top of construction fill consisting of earth and chiich represents the earliest phase (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 72). During a second phase, the previous floor was covered with two layers of construction fill (earth with chiich), the circular feature was constructed, and a new stucco floor was laid (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 72). During the final construction phase, the structure was divided into two rooms by a north-south oriented interior wall connecting to the eastern side of the circular feature (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 74).

Contrary to the G2 patio, at least five construction phases were identified in the profile of the looters’ trench of Structure 9, each marked by a stucco floor (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 64). The floor corresponding to the first construction phase is located at about 50 cm above the bedrock, indicating that at this stage of construction, the structure did not yet have its current pyramidal base configuration (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 69). This floor was built about 30 cm higher than the presumed floor level identified in the G2 patio (Kościuk 2014, 133), indicating that the structure may originally have been built on a low basal platform. During a second construction phase, this platform was elevated again, with the floor level becoming about 35 cm higher than the first one (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 69). During the third construction phase, a third floor was built, 15 cm higher than the previous one (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 69). This construction phase may correspond to the earlier stairway found on the western side of the structure (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 64), meaning that at this stage the building had become higher and more imposing than it was originally, with an actual basal platform. The enlargement of the structure was extended again during a fourth construction phase, when it was heightened another 1.5 m higher, reaching 2.3 m above the patio surface (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 69) and becoming a true pyramidal base structure. The last construction phase saw another increase in the height of the structure by half a meter, now culminating at 2.8 m above the patio floor (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 69). The latest construction phase of the stairway identified on the west side of the structure likely corresponds to both the fourth and the fifth construction phases identified on the east side: it would have been built during the fourth phase, but still used during the fifth.

The circular feature in the middle of Structure 13 is slightly oval, and has an outer diameter of about 2 m, while its inner diameter is about 70 cm (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 79–80). It is different from the one found in the G2 patio in that its base was not excavated into the bedrock (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 79). Instead, it was built on top of the first phase floor and does not seem to have cut through it (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 79). Furthermore, the feature was much less well constructed than the one in the central patio which presents a more regular shape and masonry (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 79). In the G2 patio, a 2 × 2 m test pit was excavated. This revealed a single construction phase, consisting of a layer of earth mixed with chiich, possibly the basis of a stucco floor (Kościuk 2014, 136). Burials Inside of Structure 13, beneath the floor corresponding to the second construction phase, but on top of the floor corresponding to the first phase, two human inhumations were found (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 74). The first individual was found in a ventral position with a north-south orientation, without any grave goods or additional features (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 74). The second individual was buried in a crude cist, with a metate and a complete pot at its feet (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 74). This individual was found in a dorsal position with a north-south orientation (Lackner, 79

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Within the structure, a hollow cist made with flat stones and having a north-south orientation was identified (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 64). The cist had been emptied by looters, however, and it is therefore unknown what it may have contained (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 64).

110 × 130 m, and includes at least 11 vaulted monumental structures (Delvendahl 2015, 88). The layout of the group, consisting of four closely connected patios, and the differences in types of structures surrounding them suggest different functions for different areas, likely including residential, administrative, and ritual activities (Delvendahl 2015, 88). It was constructed on an elevated area of the landscape, on the southern side of the main central plaza of Uxul, on a 3 m high platform (Delvendahl 2015, 90). Several large quarries located to the southwest, south, and southeast of the compound probably provided most of the building materials for its construction (Delvendahl 2015, 88).

G3 patio Roughly in the center of the G3 patio, a small circular feature was built (Kościuk 2014, 131). It consists of a cylindrical hole dug into the bedrock, 77 cm deep (Kościuk 2014, 131). On top of this, surrounding the cavity, a low wall was built consisting of two rows of stones stacked into a 60 cm high circle (Kościuk 2014, 131). Thus, a cylindrical hole was formed that is roughly 1.4 m deep in total. The diameter of the total feature is approximately 2.1 m, while the hole has a diameter of about 75 cm (Kościuk 2014, 131–32). The interior of the hole was likely entirely covered with stucco, although very little of it has been conserved (Kościuk 2014, 131). The feature creates a hollow of approximately 400 liters (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 66).

The compound consists of 21 structures organized into four closely related patios. The largest and main patio of the compound (measuring 45 × 50 m) is located in the northeast, and three smaller patios connect to it, one in the northwest (measuring 20 × 25 m), one in the southwest, and one in the southeast of the compound. Additionally, Structure 1 is the large pyramidal structure just northwest of the main group K palatial compound. It was outside of the residential area, and seems to have had a more public function associated with the large plaza north of the palace group K. It is therefore not included in the description and analysis of the residential unit corresponding to the group K palace compound. Structure 20 is a vaulted structure located north of the northwestern corner of the palatial compound, next to the pyramidal Structure 1, and is also not considered to have been part of the residential palace unit K.

The patio surrounding the circular structure was made up of two constructive layers: a 20 cm thick layer of compact earth mixed with chiich which may correspond to an ancient floor, topped by a 28 cm thick layer of earth with some larger stones (Kościuk 2014, 133). It seems that the circular feature was in use at the same time as the presumed floor, although the stratigraphy did not reveal when it was built.

The four patios of the palatial compound are relatively closed off, with very little space between the structures, restricting access to the group. The main entrance to the compound seems to have been through the largest structure (Structure 2), connecting the large plaza to the north of the compound to the main patio of the group (the northeastern one). There may have been another entrance on the southern side of the southeastern patio, which would also have given access through a structure (Structure 13), though this was not confirmed through excavation. All corners of the compound were closed off or restricted by the layout of the palace structures, and there are no other obvious entrances to any of the patios. The connections between the patios within the compound seem also to have been restricted, with passages through structures again being the most obvious points of entry (although not all of these have been verified). Although all four of the patios were relatively closed off from each other, it seems that most of them could only be accessed from each other, rather than directly from the outside. Entrance to the northwestern patio was likely gained either through a passage through the structure separating it from the main patio (Structure 5), or through a narrow passage from the main patio through the northwestern corner of the compound and the northwestern corner of the northwestern patio (the passage formed by Structures 5, 21, 23, 6, and 7). Entry to the southwestern patio seems only to have been possible from the southwestern corner of the main patio, or through the structure separating it from

In front of Structure 9, on the western side, modifications of the bedrock were observed, probably corresponding to the small-scale exploitation of the bedrock for obtaining limestone (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015, 63). 3.5.4. Group K The group was first crudely mapped by Karl Ruppert and John H. Denison (Ruppert and Denison, Jr. 1943) during their third expedition in Campeche for the Carnegie Institution of Washington. It was mapped in more detail during the exploratory field season of 2007 by the Uxul Archaeological Project of the University of Bonn (see Figure 3.9) (Grube and Paap 2007, 22–23). It is located in the center of the site on elevated terrain (Grube and Paap 2007, 22) on the southern border of a large plaza where several ceremonial structures and the ballcourt are located. The compound was identified as the palace group of the settlement because of its location, size, and the presence of the largest residential masonry vaulted monumental structures on the site (Grube and Paap 2007, 22). It seems to have been modeled directly after the large palace compounds of Calakmul (in particular the Small Acropolis and the Large Acropolis group), which are some of the largest in the Maya area (Delvendahl 2015, 87). The Uxul palace complex is more modest in size, measuring about 80

Uxul

Figure 3.9. Group K, locations of excavations shown in grey (after Delvendahl 2015, 89).

It should be noted that although the palace compound is identified as a household, and contained several structures that were clearly residential in nature, it is probable that some of the structures, or even of the patios, had different functions (such as ritual or administrative), though this could not be verified through excavation. Still, even if nondomestic activities took place here, they were performed within the private residential context of the palace, instead of in a more public setting, and are therefore considered an integral part of the household activities performed within this residential unit.

the southeastern patio (Structure 12), but it was directly not accessible from the outside. The southeastern patio could be accessed directly through the southeastern corner of the main patio, where no structures limited access to it, and it may have had a passage to the outside through Structure 13 in the south. Although the palatial compound was composed of several patio spaces, several of the structures separating them seem to have been open on both sides, and have functioned as common spaces. This means that the users of these patios had access to common spaces, and that a separation between them can’t be clearly made. Furthermore, because of the lack of entrances to the smaller patios from outside, with only one clear entrance to them from the north of the main patio, it is likely that one would have had to pass through the main patio of the compound in order to get to the other patios. This consolidates the patios as a unified compound, which cannot be divided into separate units, and is therefore considered to have been a single household.

Description of the structures based on initial mapping (Grube and Paap 2007, 22–24): Structure 2: large structure located on the northern side of the main patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured 15.5 × 54 m and was 6.5 m high. It consisted of a masonry vaulted structure with a double gallery and a wide terrace on the northern side, with a 81

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands stairway descending into the large plaza. One looters’ trench was registered here. Structure 3: located on the eastern side of the main patio, with a north-south orientation. It was a masonry vaulted structure measuring 11.5 × 42 m and 4.8 m high. It was intensively looted, with eight looters’ trenches having been registered, five on the eastern side and three on the western side. Structure 4: located on the southern side of the main patio, with an east-west orientation. It was a masonry vaulted structure measuring 14.5 × 48 m and 4.8 m high. It had a narrow terrace on the northern side. Three looters’ trenches were registered here. Structure 5: located on the western side of the main patio, separating it from the northeastern patio, with a north-south orientation. It was a masonry vaulted structure measuring 14.5 × 31.5 m and 5.2 m high. Five looters’ trenches, one on the eastern side and four on the western side, were registered here. Structure 6: located on the northern side of the northwestern patio, forming an angle with Structure 5, with an east-west orientation. It was a masonry vaulted structure measuring 7 × 11.5 m and 4.3 m high. Three looters’ trenches were registered on the northern side, one of which had been refilled, probably by the looters themselves. Structure 7: located on the western side of the northwestern patio, with a north-south orientation. It was a masonry vaulted structure measuring 14 × 26 m and 4.8 m high. It had a narrow terrace on the eastern side. Three looters’ trenches were registered on the western side of this structure. Structure 8: located on the southern side of the northwestern patio, separating it from the southwestern patio, with an east-west orientation. It was a masonry vaulted U-shaped structure open to the northwestern patio in the north measuring 13.5 × 46.5 m and 4.7 m high. Four looters’ trenches were registered here. The stairway on the southern side registered by Ruppert and Denison on their original map could not be found by the Uxul Archaeological Project and seems to have been a mistake. Structure 9: L-shaped platform on the western side of the southwestern patio, forming its southwestern corner. It measured 8 × 29.5 m and was 1.1 m high. It connects to structure 10 in the east. It was probably the base of a perishable structure on top. Five entrances from the patio were visible. Structure 10: platform located on the southern side of the southwestern patio, between Structures 9 and 11, with an east-west orientation. It measured 6 × 11 m and was 1.5 m high.

It was probably the base of a perishable structure. Structure 11: U-shaped structure on the eastern end of the southern side of the southwestern patio, with an east-west orientation. It was a masonry vaulted structure measuring 14.5 × 36.5 m and 5.5 m high. Structure 12: low platform located east of Structure 11, south of Structure 4, on the western side of the southeastern patio, with a north-south orientation. It measured 3.5 × 19.5 m and was 0 cm high. It was probably the base of a perishable structure. Structure 13: located on the southern side of the southeastern patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured 7 × 34.5 m and was 2 m high. It had a narrow terrace on the southern side, and may have provided entry to the patio from the south. It was probably a masonry structure, though it is unclear whether or not it was vaulted. Structure 14: located on the southern side of the southeastern patio, east of Structure 13, with an east-west orientation. It measured 4 × 13.5 m and was 1.5 m high. It was probably a masonry structure, though it is unclear whether or not it was vaulted. Structure 15: platform located on the southern side of the southeastern patio, east of Structure 14, and forming the southeastern corner of the patio with Structure 16, with an east-west orientation. It measured 4 × 19.5 m and was 60 cm high. It was probably the base of a perishable structure. Structure 16: platform on the eastern side of the southeastern patio, forming its southeastern corner with Structure 15, with a north-south orientation. It measured 4 × 23 m and was 60 cm high. It was probably the base of a perishable structure. Structure 17: small platform on the eastern side of the southeastern patio, between Structures 16 and 3, with a north-south orientation. It measured 3 × 6 m and was 80 cm high. It was probably the base of a perishable structure. Structure 18: located in the northeastern corner of the main patio, restricting access to the space between Structures 2 and 3. It had an irregular shape and was 1.3 m high. It may have been a masonry structure with a perishable roof. Structure 19: located in the northwestern corner of the compound, restricting access (together with Structure 23) to the space between Structures 2 and 5, with a north-south orientation. It measured 2.5 × 20.5 m and was 1.3 m high. It may have been a masonry structure with a perishable roof. Structure 21: located in the northwestern corner of the main patio, in the space created by Structures 2, 5, 6, 19, and 23, with an east82

Uxul west orientation. It was a masonry vaulted structure measuring 9 × 19.5 m and 3.2 m high. It was extensively looted and largely destroyed by a looters’ trench. Structure 22: low platform located in the southwestern corner of the main patio, in front of Structure 4, with a north-south orientation. It measured 3 × 5 m and was 40 cm high. It was probably the base of a perishable structure. Structure 23: platform located in the northwestern corner of the compound, restricting access to the main patio and the space between Structures 2 and 5 together with Structure 19, with a northeast-southwest orientation. It measured 3.5 × 32.5 m and was 1.2 m high. It had two appendices on its southern part and formed the angle of the northern corner.

2012). Structure 13 was excavated under the direction of Annkatrin Benz, focusing on a narrow trench to reveal the last construction phase, as well as a test pit to understand the chronology of the structure (Benz 2012). During the 2013 field season, excavation of Structure 2 continued under the direction of Kai Delvendahl, Elisa Caruso, Mike Lyons, and Laura Stelson, focusing on the horizontal excavation of the rooms of the northern gallery, and the room on the western side of the central passage in the southern gallery (Delvendahl 2013a, 2013b). Additionally, test pits were excavated into one of the benches, as well as the floor of the central-western room of the southern gallery (Delvendahl 2013a, 2013b). Under the direction of Kai Delvendahl, Elisa Caruso, and Ana Bertha Miramontes, the probe into the substructure in the central passage started during the previous field season was expanded in order to better understand this earlier construction phase of the palace (Delvendahl 2013c; Delvendahl and Grube 2013). Excavation also took place in Structure 4 under the direction of Kai Delvendahl and Lucy Chan Miss, focusing on a trench on the northern side revealing the last construction phase of the structure, as well as a test pit into a bench in order to understand its chronology and investigate the presence of a tomb (Delvendahl, Grube, and Chan Miss 2013). Excavation continued in Structure 8 under the direction of Jan Szymański, expanding the horizontal excavation of the last construction phase, as well as further probing into the architecture to reveal its earlier construction phases (Szymański 2013). Excavation in Structure 21 took place under the direction of Lucy Chan Miss, focusing on the cleaning of the looters’ trench (Chan Miss 2013).

History of research During the 2011 field season excavations took place in Structure 2 under the direction of Kai Delvendahl, Eduardo A. Tejeda Monroy, and Eduardo J. Pérez de Heredia Puente, focusing on horizontal excavation of the last construction phase of the southern stairway, the central passage of the building, the northern stairway, as well as the northeastern section of the building (Delvendahl 2011; Grube and Delvendahl 2011; Pérez de Heredia Puente 2011; Tejeda Monroy 2011). A transversal trench was excavated across Structure 7 under the direction of Claudia Dolores Reyes Ayala, focusing on both horizontal excavation of the last construction phase, as well as test pits into the structure in order to determine its chronology (Reyes Ayala 2011). Additionally, an extensive surface collection was performed within the main patio south of Structure 2 focusing on the presence of artifacts within the topmost layer of the present patio surface in a 2 × 2 m grid pattern (Delvendahl 2011).

During the 2015 field season, excavation continued on Structure 2 under the direction of Kai Delvendahl, focusing on the horizontal excavation of the final construction phase of two more rooms of the southern gallery, as well as finishing the excavation of the eastern room of the northern gallery (Delvendahl 2015). Additionally, horizontal excavation of Structure 22 took place under the direction of Laura Heise, focusing on the last construction phase of the platform, as well as a test pit in order to understand its chronology (Heise 2015).

During the 2012 field season excavation continued in Structure 2 under the direction of Kai Delvendahl, focusing on the room east of the central passage in the southern gallery, as well as extending the excavation of the northern stairway (Delvendahl 2012). Additionally, test pits and probing trenches were opened in the northern stairway, southern stairway, and central passage, as well as in one of the benches, in order to investigate their chronology and construction phases (Delvendahl 2012; Delvendahl and Benz 2012; Delvendahl and Chan Miss 2012; Delvendahl, Grube, and Miramontes Mercado 2012). Structure 8 was excavated under the direction of Jan Szymański, focusing on both horizontal excavation of the last construction phase, as well as deeper probing in order to understand its earlier construction phases and chronology (Szymański 2012). Structure 11 was excavated under the direction of Llorenç Pujol Pizà, focusing on horizontal excavation of the last construction phase, as well as on test pits into the architecture in order to understand its chronology and investigate the presence of burials under the floor surface (Chan Miss 2012; Jabłońska 2012; Pujol Pizà

Excavation results Structure 2 The structure was built in two main construction phases, and several modifications were applied over its occupation history (Delvendahl 2015, 93). The first construction phase was built on top of the earliest patio surface, probably during the beginning of the Early Classic period, and consisted of an approximately 3 × 17 m masonry structure with a perishable roof (Delvendahl 2013a, 51). Its walls, both inside and out, were covered with stucco and painted in red, orange, and pink colors (Delvendahl 2013a, 52). It was constructed on top of a 50 cm platform built on top of an old drainage canal presumably built during an earlier construction phase of the platform to allow water to 83

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands drain from the patio (Delvendahl 2013a, 52). The structure consisted of two large rooms, with a central passage leading from the plaza in the north to the main patio of palace group K (Delvendahl 2013a, 52). The rooms of the structure were open only to the patio in the south. The central passage was later sealed on the northern side, eliminating the passage through the structure (Delvendahl 2013c). On the eastern side of the central passage, a mural painting was discovered representing a fisherman (Delvendahl and Grube 2013).

202). It is unclear whether these panels were intended to be included in the stairways, or ended up there because of their reuse for construction purposes (Grube and Delvendahl 2011, 199). The texts show direct references to the rulers of Calakmul, reinforcing the connection between the two sites (Grube and Delvendahl 2011, 220). A 0.6 × 2.8 × 0.7 m tomb with a north-south orientation was found under the bench in the central-eastern room of the southern gallery of the last construction phase of the structure (Delvendahl and Chan Miss 2012). A circular hole in the stucco of the floor of the room under the bench indicates that the tomb was re-entered before the construction of the bench over it (Delvendahl and Chan Miss 2012, 110). The hole was last refilled towards the end of the Late Classic period, indicating the final reopening of the tomb happened just before the final construction and occupation phase of the palace (Delvendahl and Chan Miss 2012, 110). It contained the remains of a young adult male individual, apparently in good health, and with several dental incrustations, as well as several complete vessels (Delvendahl and Chan Miss 2012, 117–22). Among the vessels was a complete codex-style polychrome plate which, according to the description, was used to serve cacao and belonged to the individual named Yotoot Tihl (Delvendahl, Grube, and Miramontes Mercado 2012, 124). An elaborate cup with two modeled scenes and an inscription dates the burial to around 720 CE (Delvendahl, Grube, and Miramontes Mercado 2012, 126). Another elaborate cup with a modeled scene has a dedicatory inscription indicating it belonged to a “young man/prince” (Delvendahl, Grube, and Miramontes Mercado 2012, 127). The high-quality grave goods, as well as the location of the tomb and the inscriptions on the vessels, identify the individual as a young prince, member of the royal family, though probably not an heir to the throne (Delvendahl, Grube, and Miramontes Mercado 2012, 128).

During a second construction phase of Structure 2 much of the old structure was left intact (up to a height of 2.3 m) and filled in, providing a higher platform on which a new superstructure was built. This consists of a massive, monumental masonry vaulted structure, built on top of a 3 m high platform, which would have dominated the southern side of the large plaza to the north (Delvendahl 2015, 92). It consisted of a double gallery with (probably) sixteen entrances, seven on each side and one at each end (Delvendahl 2015, 93). It had a central passage through the structure, which would also have been the main entrance to the palace patio from the plaza. There were two additional passages through the structure, one to the east and one to the west of the central passage. A 22 m wide stairway led up to the platform on the northern side, and a 15m wide one on the southern side (Delvendahl 2015, 93). The platform provided a 3.8 m wide terrace on the northern side of the superstructure, and a 4.3 m wide one on the southern side (Delvendahl 2015, 93). This structure is among the largest palatial structures found in the Maya Lowlands, reinforcing the importance and wealth of Uxul as an important ally to Calakmul (Delvendahl 2011, 140). The galleries were originally open but were later subdivided into at least four rooms each. Each of these rooms contained one or several large benches (Delvendahl 2015, 135), indicating a change in function of the structure during its last occupation phase. Although the galleries were subdivided into rooms through the addition of separation walls, some of these walls maintained a small passage between rooms, restricting access between them rather than closing it off completely (Delvendahl 2013b, 67).

A second tomb with a north-south orientation was found 1.65 m under the bench of the central-western room of the southern gallery (Delvendahl 2013b, 74). It was constructed under the floor surface of the structure, but a circular hole in the stucco indicates a reentry of the tomb before the bench was constructed over it (Delvendahl 2013b, 74). Although the tomb was well constructed, and its interior surfaces covered with stucco, it was almost completely empty, except for a few fragments of Infierno Negro and Carmelita-Inciso ceramics, as well as some bone fragments belonging to an adult of undetermined sex in its northern section (Delvendahl 2013b, 75–78). It is probable that it was originally constructed for an important individual, but emptied when the tomb was reentered and before the construction of a bench above it. It is also possible, however, that the tomb was constructed at the same time as the last construction phase of Structure 2 so that it might be used at a later date but never was.

The steps of the northern stairway contained two carved panels, in line with the central passage through the building, and four panels were found as part of the southern stairway (Grube and Delvendahl 2011). Five of these measured about 30 × 32 cm each by 20 cm thick, and one (from the northern stairs) measured 36.5 × 41.5 cm and was 26 cm thick (Grube and Delvendahl 2011, 202). Of those found in the northern stairway, one represents a ballgame player, and the larger one contains 16 glyphic blocks (Grube and Delvendahl 2011, 199). Three of the ones found on the southern stairway also represent ballgame players, and the last contained six glyphic blocks (Grube and Delvendahl 2011, 199). The inscriptions indicate that they were made between 652 and 705 CE (Grube and Delvendahl 2011,

Structure 4 Located on the southern side of the main patio, facing Structure 2 and the entrance to the patio, this structure 84

Uxul was probably an important focal point in the palace group (Delvendahl, Grube, and Chan Miss 2013, 125). It may therefore have been the locus of semi-public gatherings, administrative activities, or a sort of throne-room (Delvendahl, Grube, and Chan Miss 2013, 125). It was a masonry vaulted structure consisting of a double gallery. A central entrance originally led from the front (north) gallery to the back, but this was blocked at a later point in time (Delvendahl, Grube, and Chan Miss 2013, 129). A bench was then constructed in front of it, facing the central entrance to the gallery. A tomb with a north-south orientation was found under this central bench, containing the remains of an adult female individual, as well as two complete vessels dating to the Late Classic period (Delvendahl, Grube, and Chan Miss 2013, 144–45). It is unknown whether or not there was a passage through the structure leading from the main patio to the southeastern one. Whether the galleries were subdivided into rooms is also unknown.

construction phase, the entrances of this substructure were oriented to the south, meaning it used to be part of the southeastern patio rather than the northeastern one, and both its function and orientation changed later on (Delvendahl 2015, 90). This substructure was dated to the Early Classic period (Delvendahl 2015, 90). It was conserved up to about 80 cm above the old patio surface, and was used as a base for the construction of the newer structure (Szymański 2013, 156) Structure 11 This structure consists of a single gallery masonry vaulted structure with one or two large rooms on its long side and two lateral rooms forming the legs of the U-shape (Delvendahl 2015, 90). It was built on top of a 2.6 m high platform, accessed from the north (corresponding to the southwestern patio) by a broad nine-step stairway leading to a 3 m wide terrace in front of the superstructure (Pujol Pizà 2012, 167). The structure is elevated another 15 cm above the terrace (Pujol Pizà 2012, 168).

The structure was built on a platform, with a broad stairway leading up to a 3 m wide terrace in front of the structure (Delvendahl, Grube, and Chan Miss 2013, 127). The structure and its platform were built in a single construction phase, dating to the beginning of the Late Classic period (Delvendahl, Grube, and Chan Miss 2013, 128).

The floor surface of the central room showed two circular cavities, one of which corresponded to the re-opening of two older burial cists under the floor surface (Jabłońska 2012, 180). One had a north-south orientation and contained the remains of an adult male individual, as well as two complete vessels (Jabłońska 2012, 181). The second had an east-west orientation and contained the remains of an adult female individual, as well as two complete vessels, a miniature vessel, and a greenstone bead (Chan Miss 2012; Jabłońska 2012, 182). The second cavity in the floor surface of the room corresponds to the reopening of one older burial cist under the floor surface. It had a north-south orientation and contained the remains of a child (4 to 6 years old) of undetermined sex, as well as three complete vessels, a miniature vessel, a shell, and two greenstone beads (Chan Miss 2012).

Structure 7 The structure was built on top of a large platform, elevating it above the patio surface (of the northwestern patio), and accessed through a broad stairway (Reyes Ayala 2011, 226). It was a masonry vaulted structure with a double gallery (Reyes Ayala 2011, 226). The galleries were initially open but were subdivided into several rooms at a later date (Reyes Ayala 2011, 227). A central passage led to the rooms at the back of the structure, where a bench was located facing the entrance (Reyes Ayala 2011, 232). At least two construction phases were detected in this structure (Reyes Ayala 2011, 229–30).

Structure 13 Structure 13 consists of a single room adjacent to the wall closing off the southeastern patio on the southern side. It corresponds to a low stone base for perishable walls (Benz 2012). An open trash deposit seems to have existed next to the structure, on the outside of the patio wall, although only a small portion of it was excavated (Chan Miss 2012). This deposit was dated to the Late Classic period, and most likely corresponds to one of the last occupation phases of the compound.

Structure 8 Structure 8 was a U-shaped structure with five rooms facing the northwestern patio of the palace compound. It was most likely a residential structure, with several large, very well-made benches (Delvendahl 2015, 90). It was a masonry vaulted structure with a single gallery. It seems that the gallery was initially one open space, which was subdivided into more private rooms at a later date (Szymański 2013, 154). It was built on a platform elevating it above the patio surface, with a terrace in front of the structure that was accessed by a stairway in the north.

Structure 21 Excavations in this structure were limited to cleaning the looters’ trench and the burial included within it, rather than horizontal excavation of the architecture (Chan Miss 2013). The structure seems to have consisted of a double gallery, the southern end of which was open to the south. It contained a burial cist under the bench in the southern gallery, of which the contents were heavily looted and disturbed (Chan Miss 2013, 173). It included the remains

An earlier construction phase was detected under the platform on which the structure was built, revealing a smaller, well-constructed masonry structure with four entrances (Delvendahl 2015, 90; Szymański 2013, 157). This measured about 4 × 14 m and consisted of a single open gallery (Szymański 2013, 157). Contrary to the later 85

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands of an adult male individual, as well as two complete vessels (Chan Miss 2013, 174).

than its surroundings, and the structures surrounding it are conserved up to a height of 1 meter (Miller-Sisson, Volta, and Matsumoto 2014, 198). The patio was built on top of an outcrop of the bedrock of about 1 meter high (MillerSisson, Volta, and Matsumoto 2014, 199). The western structure has been sacked, with two shallow looters’ pits on its top (Miller-Sisson 2015, 150). The northern inferior patio, west of the high patio, encompasses roughly 150 m2 and is delineated by structures on its northern, western, and southern side, and by the base of the higher patio to the east (Miller-Sisson, Volta, and Matsumoto 2014, 198). This patio has a much more open layout than the higher one, with large open spaces between the structures (MillerSisson, Volta, and Matsumoto 2014, 199).

Structure 22 Structure 22 consists of a low platform in the southwestern corner of the main patio. Its surface was covered with stucco (Heise 2015, 143). It consisted of a single construction phase dating to the Late Classic. A test pit shows that it was constructed on top of the latest patio surface construction phase (as well as two older construction phases), indicating that it was a relatively late addition to the patio, and did not exist at the time of the older construction phases of the patio surface (Heise 2015, 145–46). Main patio Three consecutive construction phases were detected in the main patio, corresponding to three stucco surfaces likely covering the entire patio (Heise 2015, 146). These phases are dated to the Late Preclassic, Early Classic, and Late Classic periods respectively. Collection from the surface layer of the patio allows for the identification of a final occupation phase of the palace compound during the Terminal Classic period (Delvendahl 2011, 121).

The southeastern patio is located about 15 meters away from the northern ones (Miller-Sisson 2015, 147). While it was located close to the northern patios, and its members may have had a special relationship with those of the K’áak’ 1 group, the distinction between the two is clear, and this patio group is here considered to have been a separate residential unit. Excavations at the group have focused exclusively on the northern K’áak’ 1 patios, which are the ones focused on for the entirety of the present research. The following description of the architectural group, and the excavations carried out, therefore only deals with the northern patios. Throughout the remainder of this study, whenever “household group K’áak’ ” is discussed with regard to archaeological assemblage and rank, it is this northern patio group that is meant, unless otherwise specified.

3.5.5. Group K’áak’ Group K’áak’ was first mapped during the 2010 field season by Nicolaus Seefeld, Sven Bayer, and Beniamino Volta (see Figure 3.10) (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 10). It is located some 250 meters to the southeast of the main center of Uxul (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 10). The group was identified as an elite residential compound based on its organization into three patios (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 10).

Description of the structures of the northern patios corresponding to residential unit K’áak’ 1 as they were recorded during initial mapping:

The group is composed of twelve structures organized into three patios: a high and a low one in the north, and another one to the southeast (Miller-Sisson, Volta, and Matsumoto 2014, 198). The two northern patios are separated by a change in elevation and a north-south oriented structure. This structure, however, was open on both sides, with a stairway and a central passage providing a direct link between the two patios. Therefore, the inhabitants of both the high northern patio and the inferior northern patio had access to this building, which functioned as a common space. This means that a separation between the two patio groups can’t be made. Furthermore, this central structure seems to have formed the only entrance to the high northern patio, meaning that in order to get to it one would have had to traverse the inferior patio, further consolidating the unity of the two patio groups. These two patios are therefore considered to have been part of a single household, designated as residential unit K’áak’ 1.

Structure 1: located on the eastern side of the high patio, with a north-south orientation. It measured 4.5 × 17 m, and was about 1 m high. Structure 2: located on the southern side of the superior patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured about 3.5 × 14 m and was about 50 cm high. It was probably the base for a perishable structure. Structure 3: structure separating the superior and inferior patio, with a north-south orientation. It measured about 4 × 8 m, and was 1.5 m high above the superior patio surface to the east, and 4 m high above the inferior patio to the west. Structure 4: located on the northern side of the superior patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured about 3.5 × 11.5 m and was 50 cm high above the patio surface. It was probably the base for a perishable structure. Structure 5: low platform located on the southern side of the inferior patio. It measured about 4.5 × 30 m and 30 cm high. It was probably the base for a perishable structure.

The high northern patio has a very enclosed layout, with structures surrounding it on all four sides, and its height means that observers from outside the high patio would not have been able to see what went on inside (Miller-Sisson, Volta, and Matsumoto 2014, 198). It is 2.5 meters higher

86

Uxul

Figure 3.10. Group K’áak’, locations of excavations shown in grey (after Miller-Sisson, Volta, and Matsumoto 2014, 198).

History of research

Structure 6: located on the northern side of the inferior patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured about 6.5 × 31 m and was 1.5 m high. It connects to Structure 7 in its western corner, forming an angle that closed off the patio’s northwestern corner. Structure 7: located on the western side of the inferior patio, with a north-south orientation. It measured about 6 × 29 m and was about 70 cm high.

The first excavations in this group took place during the test-pit program in 2014, when two 2 by 2 meter test pits were excavated under the supervision of Misha MillerSisson and Mallory Matsumoto (Miller-Sisson, Volta, and Matsumoto 2014, 198). The first was located in the southeastern corner of the higher northern patio, the second in the southern part of the southeastern patio (MillerSisson, Volta, and Matsumoto 2014, 198).

87

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands During the field season of 2015 more extensive excavations were realized within the group under the supervision of Misha Miller-Sisson (Miller-Sisson 2015, 147). The eastern structure of the higher northern patio was excavated entirely in order to determine its function (Miller-Sisson 2015, 147). Two test pits measuring 2 by 2 meters were excavated in the lower northern patio in order to investigate its construction and occupational sequence (Miller-Sisson 2015, 147–48). Lastly, a trench was excavated on the western side of the higher northern patio in order to investigate its connection to the lower patio (Miller-Sisson 2015, 148).

marks (Miller-Sisson 2015, 156). An additional right leg belonging to an undetermined adult was included in the cist burial. Because of the positioning of this cist directly on top of the floor, it can be assumed that it represents a final occupation or abandonment phase (Miller-Sisson 2015, 154). The nature of the artifact concentrations, as well as the surface cist, suggest that they may have been deposited as part of a termination ritual, symbolically ending the occupation of the structure. Structure 3 Structure 3 is situated on the western side of the higher northern patio and thus forms the border with the lower patio. It has a north-south orientation and measures 8 by 4 meters (Miller-Sisson 2015, 150). A 2-meter-wide trench of 8 meters long was excavated in the middle of the western side of the structure in order to investigate its connection to the lower patio (Miller-Sisson 2015, 150).

Excavation results Structure 1 Structure 1 is situated on the eastern border of the higher northern patio, with the eastern wall built directly on top of the retaining wall of the platform (Miller-Sisson 2015, 154). It has a north-south orientation and measures 17 by 4.5 meters (Miller-Sisson 2015, 153). It consists of three roughly square rooms of approximately the same size, each measuring 4.5 by 4.5 meters (Miller-Sisson 2015, 153). In the southeastern corner of each room a 2 by 2 meter bench is located against the walls (Miller-Sisson 2015, 153). Each of the rooms has an entrance looking out over the patio, of 1.5 meters wide located in the middle of its western wall (Miller-Sisson 2015, 154). The floor of each of the rooms is covered with stucco (Miller-Sisson 2015, 154).

Structure 3 was built on top of the platform forming the higher patio and was used as an access way between the higher and lower patios (Miller-Sisson 2015, 153). A stairway consisting of 6 steps made of stone on a base of compacted earth and chiich leads from the lower patio up to a passage through the structure to the higher patio in the east (Miller-Sisson 2015, 151–53). Both the stairway and the floor of the passage were covered with stucco (MillerSisson 2015, 151–52). The western wall of the structure is about 70 cm wide and made with nicely worked stone masonry (Miller-Sisson 2015, 152–53). Adjacent to the passage two small rooms were located, approximately 80 cm wide, separated from each other by a wall with a north-south orientation (Miller-Sisson 2015, 153). Both rooms have a floor that is about 30 cm higher than the passage floor and covered with stucco (Miller-Sisson 2015, 153). In the western room, an earlier floor level, at the same height as that of the passage, was visible (MillerSisson 2015, 153), indicating the floors of the rooms were heightened at a later stage.

The western wall of the structure was made out of worked stone that may have been covered with stucco, although none of it has survived (Miller-Sisson 2015, 154). On the inside of the rooms, the walls were covered with stucco, as evidenced most clearly in the central room (Miller-Sisson 2015, 154). The walls were not wide enough to have supported a stone vaulted roof, indicating that the roof would have been made of perishable materials (MillerSisson 2015, 154).

Excavation of Structure 3 was not carried out beyond the floors corresponding to the final construction phases, meaning that the constructive sequence of the structure could not be determined in its totality (Miller-Sisson 2015, 153).

The structure is built on top of a low base, elevating the floors of the rooms about 30 cm above the patio floor corresponding to the last construction phase (Miller-Sisson 2015, 154). The stucco floor of the patio connects to this base, suggesting that the two were constructed during the same construction phase (Miller-Sisson 2015, 154).

Superior patio In the higher northern patio, at least three construction phases were identified (Miller-Sisson, Volta, and Matsumoto 2014, 199). During the first phase, a thick construction fill, consisting of a layer of chiich and layers of earth with inclusions of chiich and larger stones, was constructed (Miller-Sisson, Volta, and Matsumoto 2014, 199). This layer was up to 1.1 meter thick in the stratigraphic test pit in the southeastern corner of the patio (Miller-Sisson, Volta, and Matsumoto 2014, 199), and would have been used to level off the bedrock outcrop. The constructive fill was the basis for a first stucco floor, partially preserved (Miller-Sisson, Volta, and Matsumoto 2014, 199). During a second construction phase, a 5

During a later construction phase, an additional room appears to have been added, expanding the structure to the north (Miller-Sisson 2015, 156). The floor level of this additional room is the same as that of the patio (Miller-Sisson 2015, 156). This room was not excavated completely (Miller-Sisson 2015, 156). In the southern room, between the bench and the western wall, the complete skeleton of an adult female positioned face down inside a crude cist was found (Miller-Sisson 2015, 154–56). Some of the bones of the skeleton, in particular the lower extremities, present rodent teeth 88

Uxul cm thick layer of earth was laid on top of the first floor, forming the basis for a new stucco floor, parts of which were still visible within the test pit (Miller-Sisson, Volta, and Matsumoto 2014, 200). During the last construction phase, a layer of about 25 cm of earth mixed with chiich was laid on top of the second stucco floor (Miller-Sisson, Volta, and Matsumoto 2014, 200). This layer served as the basis for yet another stucco floor as seen in front of Structure 1, although the stucco was not preserved in the southeastern corner where the test pit was located (MillerSisson, Volta, and Matsumoto 2014, 200).

directly north of the group (Grube and Paap 2007, 25). Seven looters’ trenches were identified in the group into two of the structures (Grube and Paap 2007, 25). The group includes 21 structures organized around two patios, a northern and a southern one (Grube and Paap 2007, 25–26). Three additional small structures (Structures 20, 22, and 23) were registered to the north as part of the M group, but do not belong to the M residential groups, and are not discussed here. The two patios were separated by Structures 3, 4, and 5. The northern patio was the largest, while the smaller southern patio seems to be a later addition. While Structures 3, 4, and 5 form the limit between the two patios, their orientation to the north identifies them as part of the northern patio, rather than shared spaces between the two. This allows for the designation of the two patio groups as separate household units: M1 to the north and M2 to the south. The apparent later addition of the southern patio supports the identification of the two patios as separate residential groups.

Within the test pit excavated in the southeastern corner of the superior patio an incised vessel with a lid, decorated with pre-hieroglyphic iconography was found inside a cist made of crude stones (Miller-Sisson, Volta, and Matsumoto 2014, 200). Inside the vessel, human bones belonging to a young child were deposited (MillerSisson, Volta, and Matsumoto 2014, 199). The cache was deposited within the constructive fill associated with the first construction phase. The dating of both the vessel and the construction fill to the Early Classic (Miller-Sisson, Volta, and Matsumoto 2014, 202) suggests that the cache was placed there during the same period, at least before the second construction phase.

As is usual for excavations of residential contexts in Uxul, most of the artifacts found within the context of group M came from construction fill and collapse layers. As for other architectural compounds where separate residential groups are similarly closely connected (see groups G and Ya’ab), this means that the bulk of artifacts found here were deposited as part of trash disposal and construction strategies, and were not found in situ where they were originally made or used. The origins of the trash used as construction fill in any given household, however, can’t be definitively ascribed to that household, and it is impossible to make a useful separation between the refuse of the different households of the group M compound. While it is likely that each household patio group would have used their own refuse primarily for construction fill, it is also likely that trash was collected from the entire compound to complement construction fill and as a permanent disposal strategy. The artifact assemblages issuing from the architectural fill of the M compound are therefore mixed contexts, and are treated throughout this study as the communal assemblage of the entire M compound unless otherwise specified. It should be noted that for the purposes of the present research, and while this means that resolution of the artifact assemblages of individual households is lost, the effects of this strategy on the results of analysis should be minimal. Indeed, because the two closely connected households were of similar elaboration and therefore of similar levels of very high wealth and status, any patterns seen with regard to the composition of artifact assemblages and its correlation to wealth or status are broadly maintained, and not significantly different from what would have been the case if it had been possible to separate these artifact assemblages by individual household. Some artifacts were found in situ, however, and clearly associated with an individual household, in which case the household in question is always specified in the text. The only extensive excavations took place in household patio group M1, and this is also the one that will be focused on throughout this study.

Inferior patio Two test pits were excavated within the inferior patio, the first in the northeastern corner in the space between the back of the northern structure of the higher patio and the front of the northern structure of the lower patio, the second in its center (Miller-Sisson 2015, 148–49). From the stratigraphy, it seems like the patio was built in a single construction phase (Miller-Sisson 2015, 148). The patio was built on top of a natural layer of (archaeologically sterile) black earth, and construction fill was used to level the patio (Miller-Sisson 2015, 148). In both test pits, a layer of earth mixed with chiich represents the basis of a floor level, which may once have been covered with stucco, corresponding to the only construction phase of the patio (Miller-Sisson 2015, 148–49). 3.5.6. Group M The group was first mapped during the 2007 exploratory field season (see Figure 3.11) (Grube and Paap 2007, 25). It is located just south of the center of the site, west of palace group K, on the western edge of the outcrop on which the palace and central ceremonial compounds are located, and next to the sacbe that leads to ceremonial group A. It occupied some of the highest ground in the center of the settlement (Grube and Paap 2009, 22). The group was identified as a large, clearly elite residential compound based on its organization into two patios and the presence of a chultun and several metates (Grube and Paap 2007, 25). It was identified as a high elite residence because of its central location and the very large size of its masonry architecture, as well as the presence of a stela within the group. Two quarries were directly associated with this group, one within the northern patio and one 89

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 3.11. Group M, locations of excavations shown in grey (after Grube and Paap 2007, Fig. 10).

Description of the structures based on initial mapping (Grube and Paap 2007, 25–26). M1: Structure 1: located in the northeastern corner of the M1 patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured 9.5 × 20 m and was 5.5 m high. The structure consists of a pyramidal base with a superstructure. Inside the structure, the fragments of a stela were found, which had been heavily damaged by looters. Four looters’ trenches were recorded in this structure, heavily damaging the architecture of the structure. Structure 2: located on the eastern side of the M1 patio, with a north-south orientation. It measured 9 × 28 m and was 2.8 m high. It was likely a vaulted masonry structure. Three looters’ trenches were registered in this structure. Structure 3: located in the southeastern corner of the patio, with an east-west orientation, forming

Structure 4:

Structure 5:

Structure 6: Structure 7:

90

part of the southern side of the patio. It measured 11 × 15.5 m and was 4.6 m high. It consisted of a low platform on which a masonry structure was built, with a terrace on the northern side. located in the center of the southern side of the patio, adjacent to Structure 3, with an east-west orientation. It measured 6.5 × 14 m and was 4.3 m high. Probably a masonry vaulted structure. located on the west of the southern side of the patio, adjacent to Structure 4, with an east-west orientation. It measured 9 × 25 m and was 5 m high. Probably a masonry vaulted structure. located on the western side of the patio, with a north-south orientation. It measured 6 × 21.5 m and was 1.5 m high. located on the northern side of the patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured 5.5 × 6 m and was 1.7 m high.

Uxul Structure 6.5 north-south. It was probably the base for a perishable structure.

Structure 8: located on the northern side of the patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured 6 × 8 m and was 1.7 m high. Structure 9: located within the patio, on the eastern edge of the quarry, with a north-south orientation. It consists of the stone foundations of the walls of a perishable structure with two rooms open to the east. A low platform was added to the structure on the southern side. Structure 16: low platform located in the southeastern corner of the patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured 3.5 × 4.5 m, 40 cm high, and was probably the base for a perishable structure. Structure 17: low platform located in the southeastern corner of the patio, east of Structure 16. It measured 4.5 × 4.5 m, 20 cm high, and was probably the base for a perishable structure. Structure 18: low platform located just southeast of Structure 2, with an east-west orientation. It measured 4 × 8 m, 30 cm high, and was probably the base for a perishable structure. Structure 19: low platform located east of Structure 1, with an east-west orientation. It measured 4 × 26 m, and 30 cm high. It had a wall foundation in an inverted L-shape attached on the western side forming a single room. It was probably the base for a perishable structure. Structure 21: low platform attached to the eastern side of Structure 8, with an east-west orientation. It measured 1.5 × 3.5 m and was 90 cm high.

History of research During the 2009 field season, extensive excavation took place in the patio of residential unit M1 (Grube and Paap 2009, 22). A trench grid consisting of several 2 m side north-south trenches was excavated (under the direction of Julia Bach and Guido Krempel) to the earliest construction phase, spanning the entire patio space (Grube and Paap 2009, 22). Additionally, the entire Structure 9, the base of a perishable structure built in the patio next to the quarry, was excavated, as well as the superstructure on the pyramidal base of Structure 1 (under the direction of Dulce Góngorra and Felix Kupprat), and a test pit directly east of Structure 19 outside of the main patio area (under the direction of Jan Szymanski) (Grube and Paap 2009, 22). The goal of this excavation campaign was to establish a chronology for the patio groups, as well as to understand the function of Structures 1, 9, and 19 (Grube and Paap 2009, 22). During the field season of 2010, excavations continued in Structure 1 under the direction of Misha Miller-Sisson and Felix Kupprat (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 66). Structure 3 was also investigated, under the direction of Céline Tamignaux, Jütgen Harás, and Véronique VandeKerkhove, freeing the last construction phase (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 69). Excavations took place in Structure 7 under the direction of Carla Jaimes Betancourt, in order to understand its chronology as well as to investigate the provenance of the large amounts of obsidian found in the area (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 73).

M2: Structure 10: small platform on the southern side of the M2 patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured 2.5 × 6 m, 90 cm high, and was probably the base for a perishable structure. Structure 11: located on the southern side of the patio, west of Structure 10, with an east-west orientation. It measured 4 × 20 m and was 2 m high. It included four rooms and was probably vaulted. Structure 12: located in the southwestern corner of the patio, connecting Structures 11 and 13. It measured 7 × 7 m and was 2.1 m high. Structure 13: located on the western side of the patio, adjacent to Structure 12, with a north-south orientation. It measured 7 × 19.5 m and was 2.4 m high. It was probably vaulted. Structure 14: low platform located in the southeastern corner of the patio. It measured 2 × 2 m, 20 cm high, and was probably the base for a perishable structure. Structure 15: low platform located on the eastern side of the patio. It measured 3.5 × 3.5 m and was 70 cm high. A low wall with an inversed L-shape connects to the south of the structure, making the total length of the

Excavations continued in M1 during the 2011 field season, including a final excavation of Structure 1 under the direction of Felix Kupprat (Kupprat 2011b). Excavations of Structure 3 were continued under the direction of Céline Tamignaux (Tamignaux 2011). Additionally, Structures 5 and 6 were also partially excavated under the direction of Céline Tamignaux (Tamignaux 2011). Excavations continued in Structure 7 under the direction of Sven Bayer (Bayer 2011). Excavation results Structure 1 The pyramidal base of the structure measured about 19 × 21 m, was 3.7 m high above the surrounding area (Kupprat 2011b, 247), and consisted of three stepped bodies (Kupprat 2011b, 250). The superstructure on top of the pyramidal base of Structure 1 consisted of a double gallery with three rooms on each side (Grube and Paap 2009, 25). It was open both to the north and the south, with a passage through the structure, and stairs leading up the base on the northern side (Grube and Paap 2009, 25). The superstructure was constructed in two phases (Grube and Paap 2009, 25), both probably 91

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands dating to the Early Classic. It seems that the structure initially consisted of a single gallery (the northern one) with a vaulted roof, and a passage to the stela behind it (Kupprat 2011b, 247). The back gallery (on the southern side), also vaulted, with rooms open to the south, the central one of which enclosed the stela, appears to have been added at a later date (Kupprat 2011b, 247). The pyramidal base of the structure had at least two construction phases, the first dating to the Early Classic, and a second, including renovation of the northern stairway, dating to the Late Classic (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 67).

Structure 5 A 2 × 8 m trench with a north-south orientation was opened over this structure (Tamignaux 2011, 277). The masonry structure consisted of a single gallery and a perishable roof (Tamignaux 2011, 277). It was built on a low base, elevating it slightly above the patio floor (Tamignaux 2011, 277). It had at least two rooms with stucco floors (Tamignaux 2011, 277). Entrances to the interior rooms of the structure were not included within the extent of the trench. Structure 6 A 2 × 8 m trench with an east-west orientation was opened over this structure (Tamignaux 2011, 279). It consists of a single gallery masonry structure with a perishable roof and at least two rooms (Tamignaux 2011, 280). There was initially a passage through the separation wall between the two rooms, but this was closed at a later date (Tamignaux 2011, 282). The entrances to the rooms were not included within the trench limits. It was built on a low stone base, elevating it about 20 cm above the patio surface (Tamignaux 2011, 279).

The central room of the southern gallery contained a stela, greatly damaged by looters (Grube and Paap 2009, 25). It should be noted that a fragment of this stela was found during excavation of the bank of the eastern aguada, suggesting that it was intentionally broken during a termination ritual when the structure was abandoned (Grube and Paap 2009, 25). It contained inscriptions dating to both the Early Classic and the Late Classic, indicating that it was carved in two phases (Grube and Paap 2009, 25).

Structure 7 A 2 m wide trench was excavated north-south into this structure (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 73). It consisted of a single gallery structure open on the northern side on top of a low platform with a stairway on the northern side. Entrances on the southern side to the patio were not included within the trench limits, but are suspected to have existed. The structure showed three successive construction phases, dating to the Late Preclassic, Early Classic, and Late Classic periods (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 73). The platform and superstructure were built during the last construction phase (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 73).

Structure 3 Structure 3 was a single gallery masonry structure with several rooms (at least four) and a vaulted roof. Its last construction phase dates to the Late Classic period (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 69). The rooms were about 3 m wide (Tamignaux 2011, 267). The second room from the east included a large, 1.6 m wide, bench filling almost half the room (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 71). The third room from the east originally also had an entrance to the south, which was later closed off (Tamignaux 2011, 265). The fourth room from the east also included a bench in the southeastern corner, measuring 1.5 × 2 m (Tamignaux 2011, 275). The rooms originally formed a single continuous open gallery with at least three entrances to the north and one to the south, which was later divided into several rooms by separation walls (Tamignaux 2011, 276). The structure consisted of a single construction phase, and was built on a wide platform with a terrace to the north that elevated it about 50 cm above the patio surface (Tamignaux 2011, 266).

Structure 9 Structure 9 consists of two rooms, open to the east, and was built on the eastern edge of the quarry within the patio of M1 (Grube and Paap 2009, 29). It was constructed in two phases, as indicated by the presence of two superposed stucco floors, but not enough ceramic material was found to establish an exact chronology for this structure.

Two cists were found beneath the floor in two of the rooms (the second and third from the east), with a northsouth orientation, and both included two complete vessels (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 69). Another burial was found on the floor surface of the third room from the east, where an individual was placed on the floor without formal covering (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 72). The individual was probably placed there when the building was abandoned, and dates to the Terminal Classic (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 72). A small trash deposit dating to the Late Classic was found outside of the second room from the north, against the front wall (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 71).

Structure 19 A 3 × 3 m test pit was excavated directly east of the structure’s base in order to establish its chronology (Grube and Paap 2009, 30). The base of the structure consisted of a single construction phase (Grube and Paap 2009, 30), dating to the Early Classic period. Patio The extensive excavations within the M1 patio revealed the presence of a long occupation phase, spanning from the Late Preclassic to the Late Classic period (Grube and Paap 2009, 23). The last construction phase of the patio surface (and the only formal construction phase 92

Uxul 3.5.7. Group Ma’ax

identified here) was dated to the Late Classic (Grube and Paap 2009, 23). It is likely that the patio existed before that, as the presence of many older ceramics suggests, but consisted of an informal leveled surface, rather than a formal stucco floor.

Group Ma’ax was first mapped and registered by Nicolaus Seefeld, Sven Bayer, and Beniamino Volta during the field season of 2010 (see Figure 3.12) (Paap, Benavides Castillo,

Figure 3.12. Group Ma’ax, locations of excavations shown in grey (after Matsumoto 2014, 330).

93

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands and Grube 2010, 10). It is located in the southwestern part of the site, not far from the edge of the meseta in the south. The group was identified as a residential compound based on its patio layout and the presence of multiple chultunes (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 10). Because of the location and size of the central patio group, it is assumed that the household was part of the secondary elite of Uxul, though it was not among the very wealthiest households (Miller-Sisson and Volta 2013, 182). No looting occurred in this group, despite the size of some of its structures, its location close to one of the loggers’ paths, and the presence of an exploited zapote tree within the central patio (indicating that chicleros knew of and had visited the group).

broad terrace in front of a stone, possibly vaulted, superstructure. Structure 4: low platform located in the southeastern corner of the patio, connected to the basal platform of Structure 3, with a northeast-southwest orientation. It measured 5 × 13 m and may have been the base of a perishable structure. Structure 5: low platform (similar to Structure 4) located on the eastern half of the southern side of the patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured 5 × 13 m and may have been the base of a perishable structure. Structure 6: located on the western half of the southern side of the patio, with an east-west orientation. It consists of low stone foundations which would have been the base of a perishable structure with two separate rooms. Structure 7: located in the southwestern corner of the patio, adjacent to Structure 1, with a northsouth orientation. It is a low platform measuring 3 × 5 m.

The group consists of twelve structures in total, forming three separate patio groups separated by open space, of which the middle one is the largest. The central patio group (household group Ma’ax 1) was built on a roughly 45 × 45 m basal platform, with seven structures surrounding it, aligned on a roughly north-south axis. To the north of the main residential group, three structures form a much smaller patio that is open to the southwest (household Ma’ax 2). To the south of the main patio group, two structures in an L-shape form the third residential group (household Ma’ax 3). Four chultunes were registered within the architectural compound, three between the central and northern patio groups visible from the surface, and one in the center of the central patio found during excavation.

History of research During the test-pit program of the 2014 field season, a 2 × 2 m test pit was excavated in the center of the main patio group under the direction of Mallory Matsumoto in order to better understand its chronology (Matsumoto 2014). During the 2015 field season, extensive horizontal excavation took place under the direction of the author, focusing on Structures 1 and 3, in order to understand their function and organization (Barnard and Delvendahl 2015). Additionally, six further test pits were excavated (five within the patio and one directly to the north) during this field season in order to better understand the stratigraphy, chronology, and organization of the household group (Barnard and Delvendahl 2015). The main goal of this investigation was to better understand the secondary elite of the southeastern area of the site, and the role they played in this relatively peripheral area of Uxul.

Because the three patio groups are clearly separated from each other by open space, they are identified as three separate household units. Although they were located close to each other and their members may have had some special relationship, their distinction is clear. Excavations at the group focused exclusively on the central patio, household group Ma’ax 1, and this is the one that is focused on for the entirety of the present research. The following description of the architectural group and the excavations carried out therefore only deals with this central household. Throughout the remainder of this study, whenever “household group Ma’ax” is discussed with regard to archaeological assemblage and rank, it is this central patio group that is meant, unless otherwise specified.

Excavation results Structure 1 Excavations here were limited to exposing the last construction phase of the structure, and no architecture was broken in order to study possible earlier phases of the building. Of this structure, 104 m2 were excavated, including a complete room in the front gallery and part of a room in the back gallery. The structure consists of a stone vaulted structure with a double gallery. Both front and back rooms were accessed from the patio, as the structure was located on the edge of the basal platform, and had no entrance from the outside. Based on the ceramics included in the collapse layer of the structure, it was determined to have had at least two construction phases, one dating to the Late Preclassic period and the second to the Late Classic.

Description of the structures of the central household patio group Ma’ax 1 as they were recorded during mapping (Matsumoto 2014, 330–31): Structure 1: located on the western side of the main patio with a north-south orientation. It measured 13 × 25 m and was a stone vaulted structure with a double gallery. It seems to have had one central entrance from the patio. Structure 2: located on the northern side of the patio with an east-west orientation. It measured 10 × 20 m and was probably vaulted. Structure 3: located on the eastern side of the patio, with a north-south orientation. It measured 15 × 20 m and included a basal platform with a

The front, central, and back walls were each over 1 m thick, and 2.7 m high (as determined by the maximum height 94

Uxul of the central wall which had not collapsed). The façade had at least three entrances (two of which were included in the excavation). There was one central entrance to the back gallery. The façade was constructed with very regular rectangular stones, while the inside surfaces of the structure were shaped much more irregularly and covered with stucco. The back wall of the structure was built directly on top of the 1 m high retaining wall that formed the edge of the patio group’s basal platform. The structure was built on a stone base extending to about 2.3 m in front of the building, built as extra reinforcement and stabilization of the patio platform to support the massive stone building.

the structure. Later, the bench was extended (possibly to serve for a burial) to the northern separation wall, spanning the entire width of the room. Both the original bench and the later extension were covered with stucco. Structure 3 A 2 × 13 m trench was excavated in Structure 3, from the center of the base of the platform to the back wall of the superstructure. Excavation was done only to reveal the last construction phase, and architecture was not broken in order to study possible earlier construction phases. The single gallery superstructure was built on top of a 1.1 m high basal platform that was built on the edge of the main patio platform. Six 40 cm wide steps, followed by a 1 m flat interval and a final step led up to a 4.8 m wide terrace covered with stucco. The superstructure was likely vaulted, but its 1 m thick walls were mostly collapsed. The ceramics included in the collapse layer of the superstructure allowed for the identification of a single construction phase for the superstructure dating to the Late Classic period.

While it seems that the front gallery was originally open, forming a single long room with multiple entrances, it was later subdivided into several rooms. Dividing walls made of reused long flat stones were added at some point after the initial construction of the structure walls. This created at least three separate spaces, two of which were included in the excavation. The resulting southern room was 2.2 × 5.5 m large and included two benches forming an L-shape, filling almost the entire space. The floor of the room was slightly elevated above the patio floor in front of the structure (24 cm). The northern bench was 42 cm high, covered with stucco, and spanned the entire width of the room. The southern bench was 28 cm high, covered with stucco, and connected the northern bench to the southern separation wall. Only a 45 cm wide strip of floor space in front of the entrance and between the outside wall and the southern bench was left open.

The construction of the façade of the superstructure was very similar to that of Structure 1, with very regularly shaped rectangular stones. The floor inside the superstructure was elevated 24 cm above the surface of the terrace. The inside space included at least two benches arranged in an L-shape. The northern one was 53 cm high and spanned the entire width of the 2.2 m wide room. The second bench was built against the back wall, leaving a 64 cm space between it and the front wall, and was 24 cm high. The limits of the room, as well as its entrance, were outside of the excavation trench, meaning the total size and number of rooms and entrances into the superstructure are unknown.

In the center of the structure, a passage through the front and central walls led to a back room, in the back gallery of the structure. An antechamber was created in the front gallery, as a 2.3 × 3.3 m space, delineated to the north and south by separation walls that were a later addition to the structure (the south wall separating the southeastern room from the antechamber). The northern separation wall was offset from the entrance, creating the antechamber space. The entrance from the front was 2.3 m wide, as was the entrance through the central wall to the back room originally. At some point after the initial construction of the building, though, the entrance through the central wall was narrowed with symmetrical stone extensions on each side, reducing the entrance to 1.2 m in width.

Patio and outside spaces In total six test pits were excavated in the patio of the main household group of Ma’ax, so as to better understand its chronology and organization. These confirmed the existence of two construction phases of the patio group, one dating to the Late Preclassic and a second (consisting of a second floor level constructed on top of the first one about 20–30 cm higher) dating to the Late Classic period. Traces of stucco indicate that both floor levels were likely covered with stucco in large parts if not the entirety of the patio space.

From the entrance, the back room extended about 70 cm to the north, and over 1.5 m to the south (its southern wall was not included within the excavation limit, meaning the full size of the room is unknown. Unlike the separation walls in the front gallery, the separation wall to the north of this room was of similar construction to the central, front, and back walls of the structure, meaning it may have been included in the initial floor plan. The southern gallery was 2.5 m wide. The back room included an L-shaped bench that had been constructed in two phases. First, a bench at the back of the room directly in front of the entrance was constructed, measuring 1.1 × 2.3 m and 56 cm high. It faced the entrance and would have been visible from outside the building, making it a potentially important focal point of

A 4 × 4 m test pit in the northwestern corner of the patio, between Structures 1 and 2, revealed how these two buildings were connected. Here, low stone foundations were found that would probably have supported perishable structures on top. One seems to have been an extension of Structure 1, and the other an extension of Structure 2, with a 2.8 m wide passage covered with stucco in between. The floor of the perishable structure attached to Structure 2 was also covered with stucco. A test pit in the center of the patio revealed the presence of a chultun with an 80 cm round opening dug into the bedrock. The conservation of the patio floor levels was not sufficient to determine the age of the chultun, and it was not excavated. 95

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands A 2 × 3 m test pit was excavated directly north of the northwestern corner of the patio group between the main patio group and the northern patio in order to study their connection. This revealed the presence of a 16 cm stone base with a north-south orientation built on top of a compacted surface. Its function could not be determined because only a small part was included in the test pit, but this indicates that the open space between the main and the northern patio group was not empty, and was instead used by either one or both the households.

of Uxul. The group was minimally looted, with a single looters’ trench in one of the structures (Seefeld 2014b, 394). The group consists of five structures, four of which are arranged in a rectangular patio (Seefeld 2014b, 394–350). The patio was roughly rectangular with a north-south orientation and measured 40–50 × 55 m (Seefeld 2014b, 395). Both the eastern and western sides of the patio were largely open, while the southern side, southwestern corner, and northern side were enclosed by structures. A small fifth structure was located to the north of the main patio group, on the edge of the elevated outcrop (Seefeld 2014b, 394).

Refuse deposits Two refuse deposits were found within the excavated portion of the central Ma’ax household group. The first was found in the east-west passage of Structure 1. It reached up to 85 cm high and spread over about 3 m2, effectively blocking the entrance from the front gallery to the back room. It included large quantities of ceramics (including polychromes and hieroglyphic pieces), animal bone fragments, incense burners, figurines, flint tools, obsidian, manos, stone weights, polishing stones, ash, and carbon. It was dated to the Late and Terminal Classic. Because of this date and the location of the deposit, as well as the fact that it was confined to the passageway and did not extend into the back room or front antechamber, it seems that it was deposited all at once at the end of the occupation of the household group. This deposit may have been part of a termination ritual, symbolically and physically closing off the entrance to part of the building.

Description of the structures of group Pu’uk as they were initially mapped (Seefeld 2014b, 395, 2015): Structure 1: U-shaped structure open to the south located on the northern side of the patio. It measured 15 × 25 m and 1.6 m high. It was vaulted and had a double gallery. Structure 2: located at the southwestern corner on the western side of the patio with a north-south orientation. It measured 7 × 15 m and 1 m high. A looters’ trench was dug on the western side. Structure 3: low rectangular platform with an east-west orientation in the southwestern corner of the patio, between Structures 2 and 4. It measured 1.5 × 4 m and 40 cm high. It was likely the base of a perishable structure. Structure 4: located on the southern side of the patio with an east-west orientation. It measured 6 × 20 m and was 1.2 m high. Structure 5: located about 10 m north of Structure 1, outside of the main patio on the edge of the platform. It was a low rectangular platform with a north-south orientation, measuring about 2 × 4 m, and probably served as the base for a perishable structure.

The second midden was found at the back of the structure, along the retaining wall of the platform. It reached 35 cm high and extended along the wall the entire width of the excavation trench, and it probably would have extended to the entire length of the platform. It included large quantities of ceramics (including polychrome sherds), incense burners, drums, flint artifacts, shell fragments, and animal bones. It was dated to the Late and Terminal Classic, indicating it was in use towards the end of the household’s occupation. It was likely in use during occupation as a convenient place for trash deposit that was out of the way of daily activities, but close to the patio. Trash deposits like this one are known to have typically functioned as temporary middens that were periodically cleaned so they didn’t overwhelm residential areas (Hayden and Cannon 1983, 131).

History of research During the test-pit program of the 2014 field season, a 2 × 2 m test pit was excavated in the center of the patio group under the direction of Nicolaus Seefeld in order to better understand its chronology (Seefeld 2014b). During the 2015 field season, more extensive horizontal excavation took place again under the direction of Nicolaus Seefeld (Seefeld 2015). This included four trenches, one to excavate the middle transect of Structure 1, one to excavate a transect of Structure 2 and to clean the looters’ trench in order to understand the chronology of the structure, one on the eastern side of the patio, and one outside of the patio group on the slope east of Structure 1 (Seefeld 2015, 220–21).

3.5.8. Group Pu’uk Group Pu’uk was first mapped by Nicolaus Seefeld, Sven Bayer, and Beniamino Volta during the field season of 2010 (see Figure 3.13) (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 10). It is located relatively centrally in the site, east of the palace complex group K. The group was identified as residential based on its patio layout (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 10). It was built on top of a natural outcrop in the landscape, which was leveled and consolidated by a large basal platform, elevating it up to 9 m above the surrounding landscape (Seefeld 2014b, 394). The size of the group and its structures, as well as its elevation, identify it as belonging to the secondary elite

Excavation results Structure 1 Excavations here were limited to exposing the last construction phase of the structure, and no architecture 96

Uxul

Figure 3.13. Group Pu’uk, locations of excavations shown in grey (after Seefeld 2014b, 393).

was broken in order to study possible earlier phases of the building. A north-south transect of the structure was excavated centrally, exposing both the front and back of the structure (Seefeld 2015, 221). The structure consists

of a stone vaulted structure with a double gallery (Seefeld 2015). Each gallery was about 1.8 m wide, and the central, front, and back walls were about 70 cm wide in order to support the massive stone vaulted roof (Seefeld 2015, 97

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands 224). The back wall was built on top of a stone base that formed the edge of the slightly elevated patio platform, slightly higher than the open space where the platform extended behind the structure (Seefeld 2015, 234). The interior floor surface of the structure was elevated about 25 cm above the surface of the patio (Seefeld 2015, 228). The floors of the rooms of both galleries were covered with stucco (Seefeld 2015, 228).

surface. Secondly, a new, smaller platform was built as a base for the masonry structure of the last construction phase, elevating it above the latest patio surface. While the construction phases could not be dated individually on the basis of ceramics included within them (because of the disturbance of the looters’ trench), the presence of large quantities of ceramics dating from the Late Preclassic to the Late Classic in the mixed context of the collapse layer indicates that there was probably a first construction during the Late Preclassic, and a final construction phase during the Late Classic. It is possible that there was an additional construction phase during the Early Classic, but this would have been a relatively minor modification (lower amounts of ceramics dating to this phase than the other two), and was not directly visible in the profile of the structure within the excavation limits.

The southern gallery was accessed from the patio (Seefeld 2015, 228). It was originally an open gallery with multiple entrances (two of which were included within the limits of the excavation) to the patio in the south (Seefeld 2015, 237). There was also an entrance through the central wall leading from the front gallery to the back gallery (Seefeld 2015, 237). However, at a later date after the initial construction of the structure, the open front gallery was divided into rooms (parts of two were included within the excavation limits) with a separation wall (Seefeld 2015, 237). It is unknown how many rooms the front gallery would have been divided into in total. Additionally, the passage through the central wall between the front and back gallery was closed off with a 35 cm wide separation wall, sealing the passage (Seefeld 2015, 236). The northern gallery also had an entrance to the north, which was aligned with the southern entrance of the southern gallery and the original passage through the central wall (Seefeld 2015, 238). This means that, before the central passage between the two galleries was closed off, there was a passage through the building (located centrally) connecting the main patio with the platform north of the structure. It is unclear whether any passage between the two galleries was maintained after the central one was closed off.

Patio The test pit in the center of the patio revealed two construction and occupation phases for the platform of group Pu’uk. First, during the beginning of the Early Classic, the bedrock outcrop was leveled, and a stucco floor was built on top (Seefeld 2014b, 400). During the Late Classic, a second construction phase was carried out, creating a new floor level on top of the first (if it was covered with stucco, this was not preserved in the center of the patio) (Seefeld 2014b, 400). The surface of the platform behind Structure 1, to the north, is somewhat lower than that of the main patio (Seefeld 2015, 234). It shows the presence of two construction phases, much like the patio itself (Seefeld 2015, 234). Although this part of the platform was outside of the main household patio area, it was clearly in use by the members of the households throughout its occupation.

Structure 2 A 2 × 11 m trench was excavated with an east-west orientation, transecting Structure 2 across the middle, where a looters’ trench was located on its western side (Seefeld 2015, 247). The excavations were limited to exposing the last construction phase of the structure, and no architecture was broken in order to study possible earlier phases of the building, but such phases could be observed in the profile of the looters’ trench.

A 3 × 10 m trench with an east-west orientation was excavated on the eastern side of the patio in order to understand the architecture of the platform. Excavation here confirms that during the last construction phase of the patio group, the entire surface of the patio was most likely covered with stucco (Seefeld 2015, 257). The earlier construction phase of the patio platform was detected here as well, and its surface was covered with stucco too (Seefeld 2015, 260). A low north-south wall was constructed on top of the earliest construction phase patio surface on the eastern side of the patio (Seefeld 2015, 260). This wall seems to have served as a base for the edge of the last construction phase, meaning that the patio would have been somewhat smaller during the last construction phase than it was before.

The structure consists of a single gallery and may have been vaulted. The façade was made with very regular, rectangular stones (Seefeld 2015, 251). There was a central front entrance to the structure from the east, providing access from the patio (Seefeld 2015, 251). The interior surface was elevated 20 cm above the patio surface in front of the structure (Seefeld 2015, 251). The inside floor surface of the room of Structure 2 was covered with stucco (Seefeld 2015, 251).

Chultun On the western side of the trench in the patio, a chultun was discovered under the layer of stucco corresponding to the last construction phase of the patio floor (Seefeld 2015, 260). This means that the chultun was in use during an earlier occupation phase, but was filled up and covered during the last occupation phase of the group. Indeed, the material inside of the chultun was dated almost exclusively

Although the chronology of the structure is not entirely clear from the profile of the looters’ trench, at least two construction phases could be identified (Seefeld 2015, 256). The first consists of a platform built on an older level of the patio platform, on which a perishable structure was likely built. This platform had a stucco 98

Uxul to the Late Preclassic period, indicating it was most likely filled up at the end of this period, and was not in use anymore during later occupation phases.

of Uxul. Being located only 40 m southwest of the old loggers’ path, three of the structures, including two of the largest ones, were looted, with six looters’ trenches in total (Volta 2011, 26). Several complete vessels were left behind by looters, dating occupation of the group to the Late Classic period (Volta 2011, 26).

The entrance to the chultun was perfectly circular, with an 85 cm diameter (Seefeld 2015, 260). The bedrock in which it was dug was leveled off with a layer of construction fill and stucco so that the entrance was flat (Seefeld 2015, 260). The chultun had a double chamber, one to the west and one to the east, and had been filled up to about 40–50 cm below the top (Seefeld 2015, 260). The debris inside of the chultun corresponds to a midden, as it was used as a permanent trash deposit once it was no longer in use. Whether or not this material was deposited at once or over time is unclear. It is probable, however, that the deposition happened over a short period of time once its use was stopped and the new construction phase was built over it. In this way, the filling of the chultun would have had the effect of both permanently getting rid of large quantities of trash, as well as reinforcing the walls of the chultun to avoid its collapse at a later date.

The group consists of 16 structures organized around two rectangular patios separated by Structure 8 (Volta 2011, 26). The northern patio measured 16.5 × 35 m, and the southern one 23 × 25 m (Volta 2011, 26). The patios were relatively closed off, with very little space between the structures, restricting access to the group (Volta 2011, 26). They seem to have been accessible only from the west through a restricted passage forming an angle to the south (Volta 2011, 26–27). The entire group was built on a low platform, elevating the patio surfaces to about 20 to 50 cm above the surrounding area (Volta 2011, 26). Directly northeast of the group, a large quarry was located, which likely provided much of the building materials for the group (Volta 2011, 26). Additionally, 25 m to the west and 50 m to the northeast there were two smaller quarries (Volta 2011, 26). Two chultunes were identified that may have been associated with the group, one 65 m to the northeast and another 55 m to the southwest (Volta 2011, 26).

The material in the chultun included not only general household trash such as large quantities of ceramics, flint, and other miscellaneous artifacts, but also several human bones (Seefeld 2015, 262). Most of these were miscellaneous fragments and did not correspond to complete burials, but rather to single bones of various individuals. Additionally, two complete adult skulls had been deposited on the floor of the eastern chamber of the chultun (Seefeld 2015, 265). Eleven individuals were identified, who were buried here as a secondary burial including large parts of the body (though not necessarily in their anatomical position): nine undetermined adults and two children under the age of 5.

Although the architectural compound was organized into two separate patios, the structure separating the two was clearly open to both patios. This means that the inhabitants of both patios had access to this common space, and a separation between the two can’t be made. Furthermore, because of the closed-off organization of the group, there was only one clear entrance to it from the west of the southern patio, meaning that in order to get to the northern patio, one would have had to traverse the southern one, further consolidating the unity of the two patios. The group is therefore considered to have been a single household.

Cave On the eastern slope of the outcrop on which group Pu’uk was built, the entrance to a cave was found (Seefeld 2015, 241). During the 2015 field season, excavation took place there in order to understand its potential use by the inhabitants of group Pu’uk. The cavity is the result of natural erosion processes, and had partially collapsed (Seefeld 2015, 242). No clear signs for the use of this cave were found (Seefeld 2015, 243), suggesting that the entrance to it opened only when the roof of the cavity collapsed after the last occupation phase of the household group.

Description of the structures based on initial mapping (Volta 2011, 26–29): Structure 1: located on the eastern side of the southern patio with a north-south orientation. It seems to have been a masonry vaulted structure with a double gallery on a 3m high (possibly) pyramidal base. It had a central passage through the central wall to the back gallery. The base measured 12.5 × 17.5 m. Two looters’ trenches were registered in the structure, centrally located on either side of the central passage. Adjacent to the pyramidal base on the southern side is a lower, 1 m high rectangular platform measuring 5.5 × 7 m. Structure 2: small, 50 cm high rectangular platform south of Structure 1, with a north-south orientation. It measured 3.5 × 4.5 m, and may have been the base of a perishable structure. Structure 3: located on the southern side of the southern patio, with an east-west orientation. It was

3.5.9. Group Wob Group Wob was mapped and recorded by Beniamino Volta, Rigoberto Cruz Silva, and José Miguel Rodrígues Muñoz during the field season of 2011 (see Figure 3.14) (Volta 2011). It is located in the southwestern part of the site, just west of the corriental separating the central meseta from the southwestern section of the settlement. The group was identified as a large residential compound based on its organization into two patios and the presence of multiple chultunes nearby, as well as metates within the patio (Volta 2011, 26, 28), and clearly belong to the secondary elite 99

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 3.14. Group Wob, locations of excavations shown in grey (after Volta 2011, 27).

a masonry vaulted structure with a single gallery, and measured 7.5 × 27 m, 1.5 m high. Structure 4: located northwest of Structure 3, in the southwestern corner of the southern patio, with an east-west orientation. It was probably vaulted, and measured 6.5 × 11 m. It was connected to Structure 5 to the west, forming an L-shaped structure. Structure 5: adjacent to Structure 4, forming the southwestern corner of the southern patio, with a north-south orientation. It was probably vaulted, and measured 7 × 20 m, 1.5 m high. Adjacent to the north a low 50 cm high platform was located, which may have formed the entrance to the patio from the west. Structure 6: located to the west of the southern patio, with a north-south orientation. It was probably vaulted, and measures 6 × 10 m. Adjacent to the south, a low, 50 cm high platform measuring 5 × 5 m was located. Together with Structures 5 and 7, it forms an L-shaped passage open to the south which may have been an access route to the southern patio from the west.

Structure 7: adjacent to Structure 6 to the west, forming the northern limit of the possible L-shaped entrance to the patio, with an east-west orientation. It was probably vaulted, and measured 7 × 16 m. Adjacent to the northern side two low platforms (40 cm and 70 cm high) were located, which may have provided access to the northern side of the structure. Structure 8: structure with an east-west orientation, forming the separation between the northern and the southern patio. It was a masonry vaulted structure with a double gallery and entrances to both the north and the south. It measures 9 × 14.5 m and was 2.2 m high. Two looters’ trenches were registered in this structure, one on the northern side and one on the southern side. Structure 9: located on the western side of the northern patio, with a north-south orientation. It is the base of a perishable structure, without divisions into rooms visible on the surface, but two entrances to the patio in the east. It was built on a low platform of 20 cm from the surface of the patio, and measured 6 × 16 m. It connects in the south to the northern 100

Uxul platform of Structure 7 and in the north to Structure 10, forming the northwestern corner of the northern patio. Structure 10: located on the northern side of the northern patio, with an east-west orientation. It was probably vaulted, and measured 7.5 × 41 m, spanning the entire northern side of the patio, forming the northwestern corner with Structure 9 and the northeastern corner with Structure 12. Five possible entrances could be recognized from the surface. Two looters’ trenches were registered on the northern side of the building. Structure 11: square 30 cm high platform located within the northern patio on the western side, about 5 m from both Structure 9 and 10. It measured 5.5 × 5.5 m, and had an L-shaped wall base on the southern and eastern sides. Structure 12: located on the eastern side of the northern patio, with a north-south orientation, forming the northeastern corner with Structure 10. It was probably vaulted and measured 7 × 22 m. It had a possible entrance on the southern side. Structure 13: low platform located at the southwestern corner of Structure 12 with an east-west orientation. It measured 3.5 × 5.5 m and was 5 cm high with a stone base that supported a perishable structure on top. Its entrance was to the north. The structure also limits access to the northern patio from the south and east. Structure 14: adjacent to the southeastern corner of Structure 12 with an east-west orientation to the outside of the patios. It was probably vaulted, and forms an L-shape with Structure 12. It measured 4.5 × 7 m and was 1.2 m high. Structure 15: rectangular platform east of Structure 14 with an east-west orientation. It measured 5 × 7.5 m and was 30 cm high. It had the stone base of a perishable structure. Structure 16: low square platform south of Structure 15. It measured 4 × 4 m and was 10 cm high.

secondary elite of the southwestern part of the site (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 197). Excavation results Structure 8 Large parts of the interior space of the structure were excavated, exposing both the northern and the southern gallery of the structure (Lyons and Stelson 2013). The structure consists of a masonry vaulted double gallery, each measuring about 2.3 m wide. The central wall was 0.75 m wide and 2.3 m high and was covered with stucco (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 206). Both galleries included three rooms, and only the western room on the northern side and the eastern room on the southern side were not included within the excavation limits (though their presence can be deduced from the presence of separation walls). The basal platform of the structure was built on top of the patio floor level, suggesting it was a later addition to the patio group (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 201). This also suggests that, initially, group Wob consisted of a single large patio, which was only later divided into two smaller ones by the construction of Structure 8, altering the organization of daily life in the household group. The structure stood on a basal platform with two construction phases (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 203). The stratigraphy visible in the looters’ trenches reveals three construction phases for Structure 8, with three floor levels made at different times (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 202). The last floor level seems to have been a late addition as it was made after the modifications to the walls and the sealing of the central passage (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 202). Initially, a 1.65 m passage through the central wall connected the central northern room to the central southern room (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 201). This passage would also have permitted passage through the building, providing a connection between the northern and the southern patio. While there is space on either side of the structure (east and west) where one would have been able to pass from one patio to the other, these spaces were relatively restricted, and the passage through Structure 8 would likely have been the main connection between the patios. This passage clearly identifies Structure 8 as a shared space between the two patios, consolidating their unity as a single household with somewhat separated spaces but a common daily life. However, during a later phase of occupation, the passage through Structure 8 was closed off, essentially (if not completely) separating the two patios and limiting the use of shared space. While it is likely that passage between the patios was deviated to the sides of the building and the two patios were not completely separated, this modification would likely have limited interaction between the patio groups and weakened their connection. This does not necessarily mean that the two became separate domestic units, but the organization of their daily lives, and their use of common space must have changed both as a consequence of and the cause for the closing of the central passage through Structure 8.

History of research Excavation took place in group Wob during the 2013 field season under the direction of Laura Stelson and Mike Lyons (Lyons and Stelson 2013). Excavation focused on Structure 8, the structure separating the northern and the southern patio. Both the northern and the southern galleries were excavated horizontally, and the looters’ trenches on either side were cleaned and recorded in order to better understand the chronology of the structure and its construction phases (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 197). Additionally, two stratigraphic test pits were excavated, one in either patio, in order to understand its chronology and construction phases (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 199). The goal of the excavation was to better understand the 101

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands The central room on the northern side of the structure measured 2.3 × 5 m (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 201). A bench was located in the southeastern corner, measuring 1.6 × 1.7 m (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 202). It was built in several construction phases, the second one elevating the bench by 15 cm (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 202). The older bench seems to have been mostly destroyed before its second phase was constructed, probably to extract the burial it seems to have contained prior to the construction of the new bench, and of which only a femur belonging to an adult female individual remained (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 202). During the last phase of the bench a 46 cm high, 20 cm wide backrest was added to the southern and eastern sides on the bench against the walls (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 202). In a last construction phase, the bench was extended 64 cm to the north, filling in the open space between the original bench and the northern wall (the backrest was not continued on this extension) (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 202).

was closed off at a later date, formally separating the two rooms, and it is not known whether another entrance from the patio existed. The western room of the southern gallery measured 2 × 2 m, and was filled with a bench (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 207). It was separated from the central room by a separation wall between this bench and the central room’s bench, with an 80 cm passage between the rooms (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 207). A 1 × 1 m test pit was excavated in the center of the bench of this room, revealing a burial cist inside (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 207–8). It contained the remains of an undetermined adult, as well as a complete vessel. Patios One test pit was excavated about 7 m north of Structure 8, in the northern patio of group Wob, and a second one in the southern patio (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 199). Both show the same stratigraphy (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 199), indicating that the patios have the same construction sequence and history of occupation. Both reveal a single construction phase (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 199), dated to the Late Classic period.

Under the floor of the central northern room, in the patio layer on top of which the basal platform of the structure was built, a burial cist was placed (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 201). While the cist was disturbed by the looting trench on this side of the structure, somewhat obscuring its stratigraphy, it is most likely that it was placed here before the construction of Structure 8. It seems that the cist was placed on the old surface of the patio floor, and Structure 8 was then constructed on top of it, suggesting the cist and the foundation of the structure are contemporaneous.

3.5.10. Group Ya’ab Group Ya’ab was mapped and recorded by Beniamino Volta, Rigoberto Cruz Silva, and José Miguel Rodrígues Muñoz during the field season of 2012 (see Figure 3.15) (Volta 2012). It is located in the northern part of the site, just north of the corriental separating the central meseta from the northern section of the settlement. The group includes 23 rectangular structures and 9 platforms, organized into eight patios and three independent structures. This organization into a closely connected multi-patio residential compound is unique in Uxul (Volta 2012, 25). While other architectural groups at the site included multiple patios (though typically no more than two or three), the separation between them is typically much clearer and wider than is the case for group Ya’ab.

The room on the eastern side of the northern gallery measured 1.8 × 2.3 m and contained a bench, but was not completely excavated meaning that both the size of the bench and the location of the entrance to the room are unknown (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 204). The room on the western side of the northern gallery was not excavated, but could be measured as 1.9 × 2.3 large (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 204). Both rooms seem initially to have been part of an open northern gallery, with the separation walls built at a later phase (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 204). The northern central entrance from the northern patio to the northern gallery of Structure 8 was also modified at a later date and made narrower (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 205). Thus, a number of later modifications point to a restriction of movement and a desire for more privacy, as the building may have changed function during its occupation history.

Most of the structures are relatively low, and most were seemingly not vaulted, meaning that the group likely consists of several relatively low-status households. There were nine quarries of various sizes closely connected to the group, which were probably used for its construction (Volta 2012, 25). Only one very shallow looters’ trench was registered in this group, on the northern side of Structure 3 (Volta 2012, 25).

The central room of the southern gallery of Structure 8 measured 2 × 5.5 m (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 206). It had an entrance from the southern patio. There was a bench in its northwestern corner, which was built after the central passage to the northern gallery was closed since it sits partially in front of the old passage (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 206). It was 70 cm high, included a small niche in its base on the southern side, and a backrest was built against the western separation wall of the room (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 206). The eastern room of the southern gallery of the structure was not excavated, but was separated from the central room by a separation wall that originally included an entrance (Lyons and Stelson 2013, 206). This entrance

Because eight of the patio groups could be clearly recognized and separated from each other, with no overlap in their use of private space, these are identified as eight separate household units. Additionally, the three individual structures that did not belong to any of the patios were identified as individual household units as well. Although these structures may have had different functions, and their exclusion from any of the patio groups typical of Maya household organization may point to this, the fact that they are of similar size and layout as many of the structures 102

Uxul

Figure 3.15. Group Ya’ab, locations of excavations shown in grey (after Volta 2012, 26).

disposal strategy. The artifact assemblages issuing from the architectural fill of the Ya’ab compound are therefore mixed contexts, and are treated throughout this study as the communal assemblage of the Ya’ab compound unless otherwise specified. It should be noted that, while this means that resolution of the artifact assemblages of individual households is lost, for the purposes of the present research the effect of this strategy should be minimal on the results of statistical and pattern analysis. Indeed, because all the households identified in Ya’ab were of similar size and elaboration, and therefore of similar relatively low levels of wealth and status, any patterns seen with regard to the composition of artifact assemblages and the correlations to wealth or status are broadly maintained, and not significantly different from what would have been the case if it had been possible to separate the artifact assemblages by individual household. Some artifacts were found in situ, however, and clearly associated with an individual household, in which case the household in question is always specified in the text. Overall, household patio group Ya’ab 5 was the only extensively excavated household, and this is also the one that will be focused on throughout this study.

included in the patio groups leads to their identification as individual households here nonetheless. Although the 11 households of group Ya’ab thus identified undoubtedly had a special relationship, and it is probable that they organized certain aspects of their daily lives communally, their distinction is clear. It should be noted, however, that because of the very close connection between the Ya’ab households, they more than likely had communal trash disposal strategies, meaning that the refuse associated with the households would have mixed. As for the other extensively excavated households of Uxul, most of the artifacts found within the context of group Ya’ab came from construction fill. This means that the bulk of artifacts found here were deposited as part of trash disposal and construction strategies, and were not found in situ where they were originally made or used. The origins of the trash used as construction fill in any given household, however, can’t be definitively ascribed to that household, and it is impossible to make a useful separation between the refuse of the different households of the Ya’ab compound. While it is likely that each household patio group would have used their own refuse primarily for construction fill, it is also likely that trash was collected from the entire compound to complement construction fill, and as a permanent

Description of the structures based on initial mapping (Volta 2012, 26–28): 103

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Ya’ab 1: Structure 23: located on the southern side of the Ya’ab 1 patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured 8.5 × 25.5 m and was 1.2 m high. Structure 24: located on the western side of the Ya’ab 1 patio, with a north-south orientation. It measured 6 × 14 m and was 1 m high. Structure 25: low platform in the center of the Ya’ab 1 patio, possibly corresponding to an altar. It measured 5.5 × 5.5 m and was 20 cm high. Structure 26: located on the northern side of the Ya’ab 1 patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured 7.5 × 20 m and was 1 m high.

Structure 17: low platform located east of Structure 16, in the northeastern corner of the Ya’ab 5 patio. It measured 5.5 × 5.5 m and was 20 cm high. Ya’ab 6: Structure 15: located on the western side of the Ya’ab 6 patio, with a north-south orientation. It measured 7.5 × 19 m and was 70 cm high. Structure 18: located in the southeastern corner of the Ya’ab 6 patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured 6 × 12 m and was 70 cm high. Structure 19: located on the eastern side of the Ya’ab 6 patio, with a north-south orientation and an entrance to the west. It measured 7.5 × 18 m and was 70 cm high. Structure 20: low platform in the northeastern corner of the Ya’ab 6 patio. It measured 3.5 × 3.5 m and was 20 cm high. Structure 21: located on the northern side of the Ya’ab 6 patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured 7.5 × 22.5 m and was 1 m high.

Ya’ab 2: Structure 27: located on the northern side of the Ya’ab 2 patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured 5 × 10 m and was 1 m high. On the western side, a low, 50 cm high platform was added to it with a north-south orientation (forming an L-shape), measuring 5 × 9.5 m. Structure 28: located on the southern side of the Ya’ab 2 patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured 7 × 13 m and was 1 m high. On the eastern side, a low, 50 cm high platform was added, measuring 4 × 7 m. Structure 29: located on the eastern side of the Ya’ab 2 patio, with a north-south orientation. It measured 7 × 17 m and was 1.2 m high. It had a central entrance to the west.

Ya’ab 7: Structure 1: located on the western side of the Ya’ab 7 household patio, with a north-south orientation. It measured 7.5 × 16.5 m and was 1.2 m high. Structure 2: rectangular platform on the northern side of the Ya’ab 7 patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured 6 × 10.5 m and was 50 cm high. A C-shaped foundation wall, open to the south, was located on top, forming the base of a perishable structure. Structure 3: platform located on the eastern side of the Ya’ab 7 patio, with a north-south orientation. It measured 5 × 11.5 m and was 70 cm high. There was a very superficial looters’ trench dug into the northern side, not more than 50 cm deep.

Ya’ab 3: Structure 32: individual structure located to the southeast of the Ya’ab 4 patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured 6 × 14 m and was 70 cm high. Ya’ab 4: Structure 30: located on the western side of the Ya’ab 4 patio, with a north-south orientation. It measured 5 × 18 m and was 1 m high. On its western side, it had a low, 50 cm high, 4.5 m wide terrace. In its northeastern corner, it was adjacent to a low, 50 cm high platform measuring 5 × 5.5 m, forming the northern side of the patio. Structure 31: low platform forming the northeastern corner of the Ya’ab 4 patio, with a roughly north-south orientation. It measured 5 × 6.5 m and was 20 cm high.

Ya’ab 8: Structure 9: rectangular platform located on the northern side of the Ya’ab 8 patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured 7 × 30.5 m and was 70 cm high. A low wall foundation was visible on top as the foundation of a perishable structure with three entrances to the south. Structure 10: located on the western side of the Ya’ab 8 patio, with a north-south orientation. It measured 8.5 × 18.5 m and was 1 m high. Structure 11: located in the southwestern corner of the Ya’ab 8 patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured 6 × 9 m and was 50 cm high. Structure 12: located on the eastern side of the Ya’ab 8 patio, with a north-south orientation. It measured 6.5 × 9.5 m and was 1 m high. A low, 10 cm high, platform measuring 3.5 × 4 m was adjacent to the northwestern corner.

Ya’ab 5: Structure 16: located on the western side of the Ya’ab 5 patio, with a north-south orientation. It measured 8.5 × 34 m and was 1.2 m high. It had three possible entrances to the east. It is the largest structure of the Ya’ab group, and had two platforms attached, one in the northeast (7.5 × 10 m, 70 cm high) and one in the southeast (5.5 × 7m, 50 cm high). 104

Uxul between Ya’ab 7, 9, and 10, one west of Structure 8 (Ya’ab 10), one between the patios of Ya’ab 6 and 9, and one west of the patio of Ya’ab 5 (Benz 2014, 477).

Structure 13: square platform located in the northeastern corner of the Ya’ab 8 patio. It measured 4 × 4 m and was 20 cm high Structure 14: square platform located east of Structure 12 outside of the Ya’ab 8 patio. It measured 5.5 × 5.5 m and was 50 cm high.

During the 2015 field season, more extensive excavation took place under the direction of Annkatrin Benz, focusing on the horizontal excavation of the platforms of Structures 16 and 17, as well as the adjacent patio space in the patio of Ya’ab 5 (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 272). Excavation was carried out here because of the relatively high numbers of flint tools, obsidian, quartz, as well as shell fragments, possibly indicating the presence of craft production in this patio (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 292). Additionally, Structure 3 (eastern side of the patio of Ya’ab 7) and Structure 7 (eastern side of the patio of Ya’ab 9) were probed using small trenches, but not horizontally excavated (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 272). An additional test pit was also excavated between the patios of Ya’ab 6 and 9 (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 272).

Ya’ab 9: Structure 4: located on the western side of the Ya’ab 9 patio, with a north-south orientation. It measured 8.5 × 16.5 and was 1 m high. Structure 5: located in the southwestern corner of the Ya’ab 9 patio, south of Structure 4, with a north-south orientation. It measured 6.5 × 10 m and was 70 cm high. Structure 6: rectangular platform located on the northern side of the Ya’ab 9 patio, with an east-west orientation. It measured 6 × 11.5 m and was 20 cm high. Structure 7: located on the eastern side of the Ya’ab 9 patio, with a north-south orientation. It measured 8 × 25 m and was 70 cm high.

Excavations in Ya’ab 1

Ya’ab 10: Structure 8: individual structure located south of the Ya’ab 9 patio, between the Ya’ab 7, 8, and 9 patios, with a north-south orientation. It measured 8.5 × 22 m and was 1 m high.

Structure 23 The structure consists of a single gallery with probably three separate rooms that were accessed from the north (Bayer 2013, 242), confirming the lack of a direct connection between the Ya’ab 1 patio and Structure 22. It had masonry walls, but there are no signs that it had a vaulted roof (Bayer 2013, 246), but instead most likely had a perishable one. Only the central room was excavated. It measured 2.3 × 5 m (Bayer 2013, 246). The floor of the room was covered with stucco (Bayer 2013, 244). This room included a 60 cm high L-shaped bench covered with stucco which occupied most of the interior space (Bayer 2013, 244). The bench was built in three phases: first, the part in the northeastern corner was built, then it was extended to the southern wall of the room, now occupying the entire eastern side, and finally, the largest section was built against the southern wall, joining it to the southwestern corner (Bayer 2013, 244). Under the oldest part of the bench, and extending under the southern wall of the structure, a burial cist was found in the foundation of the structure (Bayer 2013, 245). It contained the remains of an adult of undetermined sex, as well as a complete plate, miniature vessel, and a complete bowl on top of the cist.

Ya’ab 11: Structure 22: individual structure located between the Ya’ab 1 and Ya’ab 6 patios, with an eastwest orientation. It measured 8 × 28.5 m and was 1.2 m high. History of research The first excavations in group Ya’ab took place during the 2013 field season (Bayer 2013; Benz 2013; Benz and Chan Miss 2013). Excavation under the direction of Sven Bayer focused on Structures 22 and 23 (household groups Ya’ab 1 and 11), as well as a chultun to the west of Structure 23 and one north of Structure 22 (Bayer 2013). Excavation under the direction of Annkatrin Benz focused on Structure 21, on the northern side of patio group Ya’ab 6, as well as the space between Structures 21 and 22 (Benz 2013). Both these excavations correspond to long, narrow, 2m wide trenches, and their goal was to understand the relationship between the three parallel and closely associated structures (Bayer 2013, 237).

The base of Structure 23 shows a single construction phase (Bayer 2013, 248) dating to the Late Classic (Benz 2014, 514). Excavation in front of the structure also reveals an earlier occupation phase of the patio, however, dating to the Early Classic period (Benz 2014, 514).

During the 2014 test-pit program, ten 2 × 2 test pits were excavated in the patios and open spaces of the Ya’ab residential compound, under the direction of Annkatrin Benz (Benz 2014). The goal of this was to understand the chronology of the group and the different patios, as well as activities performed there (Benz 2014, 474). One test pit was located in the patio of Ya’ab 5, and three test pits were located in the patio of Ya’ab 6 (Benz 2014, 477). Additionally, a test pit was located in the restricted space between the patios of Ya’ab 7 and 9, one in the space

Excavations in Ya’ab 5 Structure 16 Excavation took place on the platform forming the northern east-west extension of Structure 16 (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 272). On the eastern and southern edges 105

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands of the platform, the stone foundations of what was probably a masonry structure with a perishable roof were found (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 293). An entrance to the northeastern room was not included within the excavation limits, and the total extension of the room is unknown (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 295). The structure was built on a stone base, elevating it slightly above the patio surface (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 295).

a 1 m basal platform, elevating it above the open space between the patio group of Ya’ab 6 and Structure 22 to the north (Benz 2013, 220). It had no entrances on the northern side (Benz 2013, 220), indicating it was not directly connected to Structure 22 to the north. Instead, its entrances were registered on the southern side, opening to the patio of Ya’ab 6 (Benz 2013, 222). The entrance to the room that was included in the excavation limits was 1.5 m wide (Benz 2013, 222). The floor of the room was covered with stucco (Benz 2013, 223). The central room measured about 2.4 × 4.6 m; a 43 cm high, 1.9 × 2.1 m bench was located in the northwestern corner (Benz 2013, 222). In the southwestern corner of the room was an 80 cm wide entrance to a small, 1 m wide room to the west, which had no entrance from the south, and was only accessible through the central room (Benz 2013, 223). Excavation in the patio in front of the structure reveals the presence of a stucco floor made in a single construction phase (Benz 2013, 218). A simple burial with a north-south orientation was found directly north of the northern wall, on the backside of the structure (Benz 2013, 221). It included the remains of an adult male, as well as a large flint hand-ax. The burial was not dug into the surface, but the individual was deposited instead on top of the existing surface, and covered with a thin layer of rocks and earth (Benz and Chan Miss 2013, 229). Only the last construction phase of the structure was cleared, and no architecture was broken, meaning that there is no data available on the possible construction phases of this structure.

Structure 17 Structure 17 was most likely the foundation of a perishable structure (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 297). The stone foundations of perishable walls were found, forming a 3 × 3 m structure open to the west (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 297) Inside, a separate room could be identified in the southeastern corner, containing several fragments of metates (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 298). Since all of these were broken it is unlikely that this represents the storage of metates during the occupation of the group, and instead is probably the result of deliberate deposition of these artifacts at the end of the use of the structure. The presence of fragments of only metates specifically, and no large quantities of other types of refuse, suggests that it is possible they were deposited, and possibly deliberately broken, during a termination ritual, rather than as a simple refuse deposit. Patio Horizontal excavation was performed in the space between Structures 16 and 17. This showed that the patio here was covered with stucco and that the northeastern extension of Structure 16 was a later addition to the patio group, as it was built on top of the old floor surface (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 295).

Patio A 2 × 2 m test pit was dug in the southwestern corner of the patio, next to Structure 15 (Benz 2014, 483). It revealed occupation of the patio dating from the Early Classic to the Late Classic period (Benz 2014, 487).

Directly south of the northeastern extension of Structure 16 a burial with a north-south orientation was found under the patio floor (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 295). It contained the remains of an adult male, as well as two complete vessels dated to the Late Classic.

A second 2 × 2 m test pit was dug into the southeastern corner of the patio in front of Structure 8 (Benz 2014, 502). This revealed a stucco floor in this area of the patio, with a single construction phase dating to the Late Classic (Benz 2014, 504).

A test pit was dug in front of Structure 16, next to the low platform on the northeastern side of Structure 16 and the low platform of Structure 17 (Benz 2014, 488). It revealed the presence of several modifications of the bedrock, including steps and gutters (Benz 2014, 490). These are probably the result of the exploitation of this area for stone construction materials before the construction of the residential unit of Ya’ab 5 (Benz 2014, 490). The test pit revealed a single construction phase of the patio floor dating to the Late Classic period (Benz 2014, 492). A test pit directly west of Structure 17 also revealed a single construction phase of the patio floor (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 299).

A final 2 × 2 m test pit was excavated in the northeastern corner of the patio, in front of Structure 19 (Benz 2014, 516). This revealed the presence of a chultun with a circular entrance (Benz 2014, 518). The chultun was covered by the later construction phase of the patio floor surface dated to the Late Classic period (Benz 2014, 518), meaning it was not in use anymore by the final occupation phase of the patio. The chultun itself was not excavated, however, and the date of its use is unknown. Excavations in Ya’ab 7 Structure 3 Structure 3 is located on the eastern side of the 9 × 15 m large Ya’ab 7 patio (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 273). A 4 × 5 m trench was excavated on its northern side, cleaning the shallow looters’ trench registered there (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 274). On the

Excavations in Ya’ab 6 Structure 21 The structure consists of a single gallery and had masonry walls (Benz and Chan Miss 2013, 236). It was built on 106

Uxul northern side, the structure forms a low platform. In the middle of this platform, a chultun was discovered, dug into the platform and the bedrock below (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 275). It is likely that the platform was constructed specifically to facilitate the use of this chultun, but since it was not excavated its function remains unknown. The platform probably also served as a base for a perishable structure over the chultun, though the conservation of the structure is not good enough to confirm its shape or nature (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 276). Excavation in front of the structure shows it was built in a single construction phase (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 275).

It is possible that the western room was a later addition to the structure, built as an extension to the existing, smaller structure (Bayer 2013, 240). The rooms had entrances to the south (Bayer 2013, 240), on the side of the Ya’ab 6 patio, indicating the structure was not related to the Ya’ab 1 patio group to the north. The lack of a formal floor surface in the space between the two (Benz 2013, 216) supports this lack of a formal connection. A chultun was located directly north of the outside wall of the eastern room (Bayer 2013, 240). A stucco floor was found in front of the structure, on the southern side (Benz 2013, 216). The lack of entrances to the north of Structure 21, as well as the elevation of Structure 21 above the space between the two structures also indicated no clear connection between the patio group Ya’ab 6 and Structure 22, confirming its status as a separate residential unit, Ya’ab11. Only the last construction phase of the structure was cleared, and no architecture was broken here, meaning that there is no data available on the possible construction phases of this structure.

Excavations in Ya’ab 9 Structure 7 Structure 7 forms the western edge of the patio of residential unit Ya’ab 9. A 2 × 10 m trench was excavated across the southern part of the structure, on its western side (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 280). The structure consists of a single, 2.9 m wide gallery and had 30 cm thick masonry walls, which most likely supported a perishable roof (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 281). It was constructed on top of a low basal platform (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 281). Its southern room included a 2 × 2.2 m bench in the southwestern corner (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 281). Inside the bench, a burial with a north-south orientation was found of an adult male in a cist also containing a figurine head and a flint hand-ax (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 285). The cist was deposited on the old floor surface of the room, before the bench was constructed over it (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 286).

Outside of residential units Spaces between residential units A 2 × 2 m test pit was dug west of Structure 16, in the open space that was not clearly connected to any one of the residential units (Benz 2014, 477). It revealed the presence of an east-west base foundation for a perishable structure, possibly limiting access to the patio of Ya’ab 6 from the southwestern corner (Benz 2014, 481). It showed a single construction phase, dated to the Late Classic (Benz 2014, 482). A 2 × 2 m test pit was dug in the space between Structures 2, 3, 4, and 5, in the corner between the patios of Ya’ab 7 and 9 (Benz 2014, 493). The mixed collapse layer from the surrounding structures revealed two construction phases dating to the Late Preclassic period and the Late Classic period (Benz 2014, 495).

The southern room had an entrance to the east (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 283), indicating it may not have been directly connected to the patio of the Ya’ab 9 residential unit. From the surface, however, it seems that the northern rooms had at least one entrance from the west, connecting the structure directly to the patio, though this has not been confirmed by excavation. This structure, then, may have had a complex connection to the patio group, which is not entirely clear from the excavations performed here.

A 2 × 2 m test pit was dug into the open space between Structures 3, 5, and 8, between the residential units Ya’ab 7, 9, and 10 (Benz 2014, 496). This revealed that the area was leveled, although it does not appear there was a formal floor surface (Benz 2014, 497). It showed the presence of two construction and/or occupation phases dating to the Late Preclassic period and the Late Classic period (Benz 2014, 498).

Excavations in Ya’ab 11 Structure 22 The structure consists of a single gallery and had masonry walls (Bayer 2013, 238–39), with a perishable roof. It was divided into at least two rooms, with a separation wall in the center of the structure (Bayer 2013, 239). Its interior floors were covered with stucco, some of which showed traces of red paint, and were elevated about 20 cm above the outside floor (Bayer 2013, 239). While the walls of the eastern room (both the exterior walls and the separation wall) were made of well-worked regular stones and were of very similar construction, the exterior walls of the western room were much more crudely made (Bayer 2013, 240).

A 2 × 2 m test pit was dug into the open space west of Structure 8 (residential unit Ya’ab 10) (Benz 2014, 499). This revealed that the area was leveled, although it does not appear there was a formal floor surface (Benz 2014, 500). It showed the presence of two construction phases dating to the Late Preclassic period and the Late Classic period (Benz 2014, 501). A 2 × 2 m test pit was excavated in the space between Structures 7 and 15, the space separating the patio groups of residential units Ya’ab 9 and 6 (Benz 2014, 507). This 107

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands revealed a wall foundation with a north-south orientation (Benz 2014, 508), which may have been part of the foundational base of Structure 7 located directly west of the test pit. The test pit reveals the existence of three construction and/or occupation phases, the first dating to the Late Preclassic (before the construction of the wall foundation), another dating to the Early Classic (most likely when the wall foundation was constructed), and a final one to the Late Classic (Benz 2014, 508).

sedimentation inside suggest that the sediments present accumulated there naturally because of erosion and downflow processes after abandonment.

A 2 × 2 m test pit was excavated directly east of Structure 7, in the space separating the patio groups of residential units Ya’ab 9 and 6 (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 282). Here, two construction phases were detected, each corresponding to a stucco floor level (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 282). A final 2 × 3 m test pit was excavated in the space between Structures 7 and 15 in order to investigate a stone alignment visible on the surface (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 290). The function of the diagonal (northwest to southeast) alignment was, however, not clarified in this test pit (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 290). Chultunes A chultun was located to the west of Structure 23. It consisted of two chambers, a large rectangular one, and a smaller chamber added to the south (Bayer 2013, 249). The main chamber was roughly rectangular and measured 1.5 × 2.5 m and about 1.2 m high (Bayer 2013, 249–50). Its walls were very regular, and it had a small depression in the northwestern corner containing several flat stones (Bayer 2013, 249). A small 45 × 60 cm opening lead from the main chamber to the southern one; it was closed off by a large stone cover (Bayer 2013, 249). The southern chamber is oval and much less regularly worked than the main one (Bayer 2013, 250). The lack of any significant numbers of artifacts inside the chultun (Bayer 2013, 250), and the fact that its entrance was not covered, suggest that it filled with sediment naturally after its abandonment, rather than having been filled in intentionally. The shape of the chultun and the presence of the depression with flat stones suggest that it may have been used as a temazcal (Bayer 2013, 251). Another chultun was found directly north of the northern wall of Structure 22, at the back of the structure (Bayer 2013, 252). It had a very regularly shaped, circular entrance, covered by a stone lid, and was only partially filled with sediment (Bayer 2013, 252). It consisted of a single oval chamber with a concave roof (Bayer 2013, 252). The entrance went straight down, then turned to the south, opening to the side of the chamber with a small 50 cm high opening (Bayer 2013, 253). It had a compacted floor surface made of stones and ceramic sherds (Bayer 2013, 252). The chultun extended to the north, with the center of the chamber located under the northern wall of Structure 22. The function of the chultun is unclear, although it is unlikely, given its shape, that it was used for water storage. The lack of artifacts and a low level of 108

Part II Analysis

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4 Wealth Inequality and Stratification In archaeology, the Gini index is most often calculated based on the floor area of houses, because it is archaeologically identifiable and integrates embodied, relational, as well as material aspects of wealth (Abul-Magd 2002; Chase 2017; Friesen and Scheidel 2009, 87–88; Kohler et al. 2017; Peterson and Drennan 2018, 42; Smith et al. 2014; Smith and Hicks 2016, 431). However, in the case of the Classic Maya who typically built their houses on top of raised platforms, the volume of construction materials (walls, floors, and basal platforms) may provide a more accurate estimate of wealth (Chase 2017; Smith et al. 2014, 312). In this way, a more direct measure of the effort and cost involved in the construction of a house is taken into account (Peterson and Drennan 2018, 44; Smith et al. 2014, 312). This follows from an energetic argument about labor costs in residential construction, and is related to analyses of energetics (Abrams 1994; Chase 2017, 32–34; Ringle, Gallareta Negrón, and Bey 2020). Furthermore, because Maya urban centers tend to be more dispersed, floor surface was less of a scarce resource compared to more densely populated cities, and therefore a less relevant proxy for wealth. It should be noted that one index of household wealth can’t always be correlated to a separate index based on a different proxy without proof of correlation between the two metrics (Chase 2017, 31). However, the size of households in the Maya area is widely correlated with the richness of its associated artifact assemblages, elaboration of burials, as well as with differences in diet, indicating that construction volume is a good proxy for overall household wealth (Smith et al. 2014; Somerville, Fauvelle, and Froehle 2013).

derived from household analysis (Peterson and Drennan 2018, 47). Indeed, house structures, throughout their use-life, are often enlarged, structures are added, and parts are torn down, meaning that a considerable amount of construction, destruction, and rebuilding may have occurred during the life cycle of a house, especially if occupied by multiple consecutive generations (Peterson and Drennan 2018, 48). There is therefore a concern that the configuration of an archaeologically recorded household structure is more a reflection of a particular moment in time or a stage in the household life cycle, than it is a reflection of longer-term processes (Peterson and Drennan 2018, 48). In the case of the Maya, however, we know that subsequent construction phases were typically built on top of the old ones, meaning that house structures tended to grow over the generations that they were in use. This means that the wealth that is reflected in the construction volume of domestic structures does not necessarily directly reflect the personal wealth of the family living in its latest configuration, but rather the accumulated wealth invested into a generationally transmitted household. This also means that younger houses will tend to be smaller than older ones where multiple generations may have invested in the development of its architecture. In this respect, construction volume is comparable to wealth accumulated by inheritance, and therefore a relevant proxy of accumulated wealth. The correlation that exists between the size of household architecture and other indicators of wealth then suggests that long lineages existed that had ways to maintain their status and wealth over multiple generations, be it through institutionalized hereditary status or economic investments. Furthermore, while this process may have affected the size and height of basal platforms, it would have affected the size of walls and a vaulted roof to a much lesser degree, as these would have (partially) been rebuilt anew at each subsequent construction phase. Thus, wealth as reflected in construction volume for the Ancient Maya is the result of a combination of inherited investments and those of the generation responsible for its final construction phase.

Households in Maya society were usually organized in compounds or household groups, and members of a single household may have lived in a number of separate dwellings, typically organized in a patio (Ashmore 1981; Flannery 1976b; Garrison 2020, 250; Gonlin 2020, 390; Haviland 1988; Lemonnier 2012, 181; Manzanilla 1986; Tourtellot, III 1983; Wilk 1988, 142). Since these patio groups seem in general to have functioned as single economic units, they are structurally comparable, and can be used for the purposes of this type of analysis (Smith et al. 2014, 321). However, in many cases this requires assigning multiple structures to a single household unit, involving a series of assumptions that may weaken the overall chain of argument, and needs to be justified (Smith et al. 2014, 321).

A result of the accumulative construction phases observed in Classic Maya urban centers is that the configuration of an archaeologically recorded household structure or group of structures is not the reflection of a particular moment in time. Instead, it is the result of a number of episodes of construction throughout the life cycle of the household, reflecting long-term processes. While this may be problematic for some types of analysis, it is exactly what is needed in order to assess persistent society-wide structural differentiation between households (Peterson and Drennan 2018, 48) as is the case here.

Archaeologists have sometimes cautioned about the impact of the developmental cycle of households (going through initial establishment, childbearing and -rearing, and subsequent dispersal of children) affecting the conclusions

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Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands 4.1. Methodology and parameters

the volumetric data obtained from the surveys reflect the extent of constructions at their final construction phase, this means that the Gini-index calculated using these data is only valid for the Late Classic period at Uxul. I argue that this analysis thus provides a reasonable representation of household volumes in the Late Classic period, towards the end of the city’s occupation.

In order to measure wealth inequality in Late Classic Uxul, I used non-perishable construction volumes (stone) including material used for the erection of platforms, structure walls, and roofs, as a proxy for household wealth. Individual households were identified based on their organization into patio groups. In order to measure construction volumes, I used the survey data, consisting of a Digital Elevation Map (DEM) created using Total Station measurements on the ground, recording architecture visible on the surface. I used the results of this to obtain a Gini index of wealth inequality (see 2.2.1.2.1 Wealth distribution and inequality) and to study the distribution of wealth in Late Classic Uxul. An abridged version of the present analysis was also published in a prior article (see Barnard 2021).

Using the data gathered using a Total Station, a digital elevation model (DEM) of Uxul was created (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010; Reichel and Volta 2015; Volta 2013). Based on the structures and patio identifications as they were identified and recorded in the field, each of the individual households was identified, given a name, and marked on the map (see 3.4.1 Household identification). Then, using the Surface Volume (3D Analyst) tool in ESRI© ArcGIS software, the construction volume of each of these households above their base height was calculated. ArcGIS elevation maps rely on the interpolation of data based on the points that were measured in the field, and thus differ to some small degree from the actual morphology of the terrain. Any volumes thus calculated using the DEM will be approximations rather than exact measures. However, these approximations are considered sufficient to accurately reflect the differences between structurevolumes, if not to give a precise assessment of the costs incurred in making them. The quality of the data is thus good enough to be comparable among each other, but is not suitable for more detailed analysis relying on absolute values such as energetic analyses.

Because there is very little sedimentation or erosion going on atop the main Uxul meseta, structure mounds would neither have gained nor lost significant amounts of construction material. Here it is assumed that the original structures simply collapsed, with the resulting mounds thus containing the complete amount of stone construction material. Since the site was largely abandoned at the end of the Late Classic period, and evidence of later occupation is sporadic, it is a reasonable assumption that, even if some of the structures were used as quarries where suitable stone could easily be removed for reuse in new structures, this would have happened on a very small scale, leaving little to no discernable trace in the archaeological record. Therefore, the assumption here is that construction volumes as they were recorded during survey represent approximately the same volume of nonperishable materials as were present in the final phase of the original constructions.

The ArcGIS Surface Volume tool relies on a single, flat elevation that needs to be predetermined for the calculation of volumetric data. This made the determination of a single elevation for each residential group as a basis for calculating their volume problematic. Indeed, construction at Uxul occurred on non-flat terrain. While the volume calculations obtained using this methodology are thus approximations, and contain a certain degree of arbitrary variables, this analysis can be used as a first-step approximation.

In total, 39.2% of the household groups identified at Uxul were investigated to some extent, ranging from single test-pits to extensive excavations, providing dates for their final construction phase based on ceramic typologies (Dzul Góngora 2015; Dzul Góngora and Bach 2014). Excavation data show that each of the household groups that were investigated, including both domestic groups that were investigated using test-pits as well as loci where more extensive excavations took place, it is the Late Classic period from which the last clear traces of construction and occupation can be found (Dzul Góngora 2015; Dzul Góngora and Bach 2014). For almost all of the households recorded, the existing architecture is thus the result of the final construction phase during the Late Classic, when the household was at its most extensive. Only a few of the households (less than 5%) exhibit traces of Postclassic occupation (but not construction), and none were abandoned before the Late Classic. The uniformity of the dates of the final construction phases identified for each of the investigated households means that we can assert with a high level of confidence that almost all of the remaining 58% of the households were also in their final construction stage during the Late Classic. Since

So far only 3.8 km2 of the estimated 5 km2 extent of Uxul have been mapped, identifying 181 separate households. Thus, an estimated 24% (1.2 km2) of the site has not been mapped, and volumes could not be directly calculated for any structures that may exist outside of the mapping area. However, the numbers and construction volumes of these hypothetical household groups could be extrapolated by duplicating the data from a representative known area on the periphery of the site. In order to do this, I selected a 0.6 km2 area on the southern periphery of Uxul, and copied the data for the households included in that area twice, in order to extrapolate data for the hypothetical households on the unmapped peripheries of Uxul. These hypothetical households are included in the calculations, in order to get an idea of what the Gini index may have been for the settlement of Uxul as a whole. Using this method assumes that the composition of the unmapped peripheries didn’t 112

Wealth Inequality and Stratification differ greatly in terms of the proportional presence of wealthy and less wealthy households from the mapped peripheries of the site. As will be discussed in section 5.2 Neighborhoods in Uxul, this is a reasonable assumption, since all neighborhoods included both elite and poor households, and some of the highest elite households were indeed found on the site peripheries. While these results are obviously not exact, they do allow for a better estimate of wealth inequality in Late Classic Uxul. Thus, the extrapolated data representing the complete site of Uxul was used in order to calculate a Gini index for Uxul over the entire site, assuming a total of 243 individual households.

unknown as they haven’t been excavated, these aspects of stone construction could not be incorporated into the analysis. A consequence of the reliance on field-survey data is that very low-status households may be under-represented in this analysis. Assuming that stone construction material is a good proxy for socio-economic status, it may have been the case that some households were not wealthy enough to use stone as a construction material beyond simple low wall foundations, if at all. Thus, the poorest households may not have included enough stone material to still be visible on the ground during field survey, especially in an environment where much of the jungle floor is covered in vegetation, making the identification of minor architectural features all the more challenging. This means that it is possible that a Gini index based on survey data is biased towards a lower measure of inequality than would have existed in reality, as the poorest of households may be underrepresented (a higher number of extremely poor households would typically result in a higher Gini index), although it is impossible to know to what extent and whether this is the case at all.

4.1.1. Methodological discussion Because perishable construction materials such as adobe bricks or wattle-and-daub panels do not survive well in the archaeological record, especially in subtropical climates (Barnard 2016, 39), these are not represented in the surviving structure mounds that can be recorded today. Adobe and wattle and daub are much less laborintensive to obtain than stone, and would therefore not be comparable to non-perishable materials in terms of energy expended to build with them. Therefore, only stone construction materials were considered in this study as a proxy for household wealth. Stone is relatively costly to obtain, as it necessitates a large amount of time and energy in order to extract, transport, and work into the appropriate shape. This means that it can be used as an excellent proxy for household wealth, as the ability to incorporate masonry in domestic construction, especially in large proportions, seems to have been one of the clearest indicators of socioeconomic differences within Maya society (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 85; Smith et al. 2014, 321).

Another inherent limitation in the calculation of construction volumes based on surface data is that this makes it impossible to account for natural variation of the landscape on which a particular platform is built. When selecting locations for their houses, the inhabitants of ancient Uxul may in some cases have taken advantage of naturally occurring outcrops of bedrock, which would have facilitated the construction of larger platforms. This way, they would simply have had to level an existing high ground and consolidate a platform around it, instead of having to build up a platform from lower ground, thus necessitating less stone and labor to achieve significant height. Such a strategy, however, would not be visible on the surface, and it is impossible to know how prevalent the tactic was, although excavation shows that the strategy was employed at least in some cases. Because construction volume here is measured from the base of each residential platform, this means that for some households the amount of actual stone construction volume used is overestimated. However, since excavation shows that this strategy was used for large monumental constructions and smaller platforms alike, I assume that its effects average out overall and shouldn’t overly influence the final results of the Gini index.

It should be noted, however, that the quality of the masonry is not taken into account here. Rather, the simple ability to obtain stone, regardless of the extent to which it had to be processed and worked before being employed in the architecture, is measured and compared. If we were to assume that wealthier or higher status households used higher quality masonry and better-worked stone than their poorer counterparts, this would mean that differences in wealth are obscured to some extent. The processing of stone and preparing it for use in high-quality, regular façades would have been a major cost component in voluminous, elite household construction. On the other hand, it should also be considered that only the façade stone would have needed to be extensively worked, whereas stones used for simple construction fill were much more irregular. A more voluminous construction (especially in the case of platforms and massive stone walls) would thus have a higher relative proportion of unworked stone than less voluminous constructions which have a lower construction fill to façade ratio. Thus, simpler, less voluminous stone constructions may actually have represented a higher cost per cubic meter of stone than more complex ones. However, since the actual ground plans for most household groups are

It should thus be kept in mind that the figures obtained here are estimates of total construction volumes, rather than exact measurements, and there is therefore some room for variation within these calculations. However, because all measurements are subjected to the same limitations and biases, they are comparable to each other. This means that while there is an inherent margin of error present for the measurements and the calculations based on them, the general patterns that emerge from them are valid and a representation of the economic organization of Classic Uxul. 113

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands 4.2. Wealth inequality in Uxul

complex K respectively. This illustrates that, as expected, an important difference between rich and poor is that the rich invested relatively more in massive stone architecture than the poor did. Indeed, there is a very strong statistical inverse correlation between household rank as based on construction volumes and their volume to surface ratio (r = −.89, P = .00 < .01), meaning that not only did wealthier people use larger surface areas for their households, but for the same surface area, wealthier households tended to build higher and more massive constructions. It should be noted that, while there is a strong inverse correlation between household rank as based on construction volume and their surface area (r = −.59, P = .00 < .01), meaning that wealthier, larger households tended to also occupy a larger area, the correlation is not perfect, and some wealthier households actually occupied a smaller total area than some of the poorer ones (i.e. they invested in vertical architecture more than in horizontal spreading). The results of the calculations of construction volume, surface area, and the volume to surface ratio can be seen in Table 4.1.

The results of the volume calculations in ArcGIS were exported to a spreadsheet in order to be further analyzed. Following the premise that construction volume is a proxy for household wealth, the households, including the hypothetical ones outside of the mapping area for which hypothetical volumes were extrapolated, were ranked based on measured construction volume. Each household thus received a rank between 1 and 243, with 1 being the largest (and therefore considered here as the wealthiest household) and 243 the smallest (and therefore the poorest). These ranks will, from here on, be used to denote the relative position of the households on Uxul’s wealth scale. The results of the volume calculations of the Late Classic Uxul households range from 1.02 m3 for the smallest household to 4,981.42 m3 for the largest (palace complex K). These correspond to surface areas of 33.59 m2 (a ratio of 0.03 m3/m2) for the smallest household, and 22,128.68 m2 (a ratio of 0.23 m3/m2) for the palace

Table 4.1. Table showing the results of the construction volume and surface area calculations for Late Classic Uxul FID

Household name

Construction volume (m3)

Surface area (m2)

Volume to surface ratio (m3/m2)

Rank

Status

81

K

4981.42

22128.68

0.23

1

I

133

Ak’

1734.00

6915.43

0.25

2

II

78

M1

965.53

7120.22

0.14

3

II

145

Wob1

958.36

6088.23

0.16

4

II

7

Kéej1

792.62

7155.90

0.11

5

II

104

Kulte’1

652.19

2861.09

0.23

6

II

179

Baak1

635.58

4292.46

0.15

7

II

–

Hypothetical53

626.65

3619.00

0.17

8

II

–

Hypothetical22

626.65

3619.00

0.17

9

II

110

K’áak’1

626.65

3619.00

0.17

10

II

171

Kopo’2

605.23

3536.06

0.17

11

II

64

F1

540.91

3438.52

0.16

12

II

180

Tzíimin

454.82

1621.69

0.28

13

II

87

Pu’uk

446.05

3822.31

0.12

14

II

90

N1

442.76

3295.21

0.13

15

II

49

Báalam1

418.33

3896.45

0.11

16

II

2

Bej

407.91

1807.30

0.23

17

II

80

M2

397.51

2189.22

0.18

18

II

14

K’anbul

344.67

3077.34

0.11

19

II

–

Hypothetical55

286.76

2597.00

0.11

20

III

–

Hypothetical24

286.76

2597.00

0.11

21

III

132

K’iin

286.76

2597.00

0.11

22

III

32

K’eyem

284.48

3903.91

0.07

23

III

–

Hypothetical4

275.75

3241.58

0.09

24

III

Ma’ax1

275.75

3241.58

0.09

25

III

Hypothetical35

258.96

2913.78

0.09

26

III

135 –

114

Wealth Inequality and Stratification FID

Household name

Construction volume (m3)

Surface area (m2)

Volume to surface ratio (m3/m2)

Rank

Status

175

Buk’tun1

258.12

1489.82

0.17

27

III

11

K’u’uche’

253.64

2205.19

0.12

28

III

65

Moots

242.40

1452.64

0.17

29

III

101

O5

241.62

2218.63

0.11

30

III

53

F3

238.68

1507.12

0.16

31

III

–

Hypothetical8

236.56

2380.75

0.10

32

III

–

Hypothetical39

236.56

2380.75

0.10

33

III

Ki’ichpan1

236.56

2380.75

0.10

34

III

Kéej2

209.44

2258.55

0.09

35

III

168

Kopo’1

208.92

2073.14

0.10

36

III

124

O1

203.31

2117.02

0.10

37

III

34

Bebtun

202.01

2304.21

0.09

38

III

56

G2

201.86

1733.76

0.12

39

III

91

Lol2

201.62

1264.02

0.16

40

III

–

Hypothetical46

197.42

2187.04

0.09

41

III

–

Hypothetical15

197.42

2187.04

0.09

42

III

Jalal

197.42

2187.04

0.09

43

III

–

Hypothetical54

196.98

2429.53

0.08

44

III

–

Hypothetical23

196.98

2429.53

0.08

45

III

114

T’ool1

196.98

2429.53

0.08

46

III

30

Ya’ab8

196.54

1876.63

0.10

47

III

–

Hypothetical47

194.42

2197.20

0.09

48

III

–

Hypothetical16

194.42

2197.20

0.09

49

III

118

Kaal

194.42

2197.20

0.09

50

III

58

Q

185.36

1700.74

0.11

51

III

24

Chiwoj1

182.89

1436.63

0.13

52

III

46

P1

180.70

1419.41

0.13

53

III

13

K’u’

180.13

1422.74

0.13

54

III

71

B2

179.11

1482.61

0.12

55

III

–

Hypothetical58

173.27

2200.87

0.08

56

III

–

Hypothetical27

173.27

2200.87

0.08

57

III

137

Choom1

173.27

2200.87

0.08

58

III

173

Iik’1

147.53

2155.66

0.07

59

IV

177

Iik’2

143.58

1191.12

0.12

60

IV

75

B1

142.99

1110.82

0.13

61

IV

51

H6

140.88

1456.95

0.10

62

IV

77

S

134.26

1376.80

0.10

63

IV

16

Ya’ab1

133.25

1623.05

0.08

64

IV

73

B4

132.35

926.86

0.14

65

IV

138

Kaa’p’el Jool

130.39

1895.41

0.07

66

IV

48

H5

125.66

1441.60

0.09

67

IV

157

Lak’in

122.93

1548.64

0.08

68

IV

44

H4

118.16

1552.29

0.08

69

IV

61

G3

116.67

1765.95

0.07

70

IV

25

Ya’ab6

114.93

1949.50

0.06

71

IV

92

L2

114.47

1015.97

0.11

72

160 8

117

IV

(Continued) 115

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Table 4.1. Table showing the results of the construction volume and surface area calculations for Late Classic Uxul (Continued) Construction volume (m3)

Surface area (m2)

Volume to surface ratio (m3/m2)

Rank

Status

Kéej4

113.37

1598.41

0.07

73

IV

93

O6

112.43

1424.63

0.08

74

IV

155

Bu’ul2

111.26

1260.95

0.09

75

IV

4

Koj

106.39

994.81

0.11

76

IV

29

Jooch

105.43

1325.69

0.08

77

IV

45

Kaab

104.93

1041.90

0.10

78

IV

19

Chiwoj2

102.44

433.83

0.24

79

IV

17

Kitam

101.15

1187.09

0.09

80

IV

–

Hypothetical52

98.40

1476.07

0.07

81

IV

–

Hypothetical21

98.40

1476.07

0.07

82

IV

K’áak’3

98.40

1476.07

0.07

83

IV

–

Hypothetical56

95.25

1273.66

0.07

84

IV

–

Hypothetical25

95.25

1273.66

0.07

85

IV

136

Úurich

95.25

1273.66

0.07

86

IV

69

I

92.52

590.24

0.16

87

IV

–

Hypothetical61

92.46

507.66

0.18

88

IV

–

Hypothetical30

92.46

507.66

0.18

89

IV

141

Choom2

92.46

507.66

0.18

90

IV

82

L3

92.09

1225.50

0.08

91

IV

–

Hypothetical33

91.61

1087.22

0.08

92

IV

–

Hypothetical2

91.61

1087.22

0.08

93

IV

152

Peech

91.61

1087.22

0.08

94

IV

112

O4

88.41

1501.20

0.06

95

IV

27

Ya’ab5

86.82

990.47

0.09

96

IV

165

Meyajil

83.54

1154.54

0.07

97

IV

FID 9

113

Household name

174

Ma’alob Paakat1

83.30

1283.14

0.06

98

IV

164

Tzabkan2

82.30

1075.96

0.08

99

IV

37

H1

80.73

807.68

0.10

100

IV

105

Kulte’2

79.19

1091.65

0.07

101

IV

18

Ya’ab2

78.52

1029.86

0.08

102

IV

106

T’ool2

78.38

957.89

0.08

103

IV

33

Xuux

77.84

922.08

0.08

104

IV

79

Eeb

76.93

787.30

0.10

105

IV

12

Chi’ik

75.23

689.83

0.11

106

IV

103

Suup’1

74.49

964.73

0.08

107

IV

66

F4

73.69

1348.39

0.05

108

IV

55

Báalam5

73.39

972.45

0.08

109

IV

100

Baatz’

73.30

808.57

0.09

110

IV

125

Tolok

72.60

1284.75

0.06

111

IV

94

Níix3

72.51

788.54

0.09

112

IV

52

F7

71.84

707.30

0.10

113

IV

59

F5

71.00

1183.15

0.06

114

IV

76

R3

68.01

937.56

0.07

115

IV

62

Báalam3

67.89

922.79

0.07

116

IV

116

Wealth Inequality and Stratification FID 102

Household name Níix1

Construction volume (m3)

Surface area (m2)

Volume to surface ratio (m3/m2)

Rank

Status

67.32

1481.54

0.05

117

IV

98

L1

66.65

1055.17

0.06

118

IV

5

Chab1

65.81

1061.52

0.06

119

IV

109

N5

65.15

725.24

0.09

120

IV

108

N4

65.06

850.45

0.08

121

IV

151

Iich1

62.81

737.50

0.09

122

IV

–

Hypothetical57

62.01

1077.21

0.06

123

IV

–

Hypothetical26

62.01

1077.21

0.06

124

IV

Wech

62.01

1077.21

0.06

125

IV

122 150

Bu’ul1

60.40

951.99

0.06

126

IV

149

Ch’íich’2

59.63

725.80

0.08

127

IV

31

Chiwoj3

59.38

513.65

0.12

128

IV

54

F6

58.95

1173.53

0.05

129

IV

148

Ch’íich’3

58.29

659.92

0.09

130

IV

86

N2

57.94

678.30

0.09

131

IV

–

Hypothetical7

57.83

805.57

0.07

132

IV

–

Hypothetical38

57.83

805.57

0.07

133

IV

163

Íits’in

57.83

805.57

0.07

134

IV

50

G1

53.84

754.80

0.07

135

IV

83

Lol1

52.64

731.26

0.07

136

IV

43

H2

51.63

960.64

0.05

137

IV

22

Ya’ab9

51.48

1328.32

0.04

138

IV

–

Hypothetical9

51.33

1029.38

0.05

139

IV

–

Hypothetical40

51.33

1029.38

0.05

140

IV

146

Táan Chumuk

51.33

1029.38

0.05

141

IV

97

Kulte’3

51.13

532.65

0.10

142

IV

–

Hypothetical48

51.09

783.18

0.07

143

IV

–

Hypothetical17

51.09

783.18

0.07

144

IV

Ma’ax2

51.09

783.18

0.07

145

IV

128 –

Hypothetical6

49.83

657.18

0.08

146

IV

–

Hypothetical37

49.83

657.18

0.08

147

IV

140

Ma’ax3

49.83

657.18

0.08

148

IV

84

O7

46.56

654.92

0.07

149

IV

–

Hypothetical32

44.41

626.73

0.07

150

IV

–

Hypothetical1

44.41

626.73

0.07

151

IV

Pokche’

44.41

626.73

0.07

152

IV

Maxal

41.73

606.84

0.07

153

IV

121

O8

41.17

591.36

0.07

154

IV

40

Kuuts

40.97

678.46

0.06

155

IV

88

Nook’ol

40.50

871.43

0.05

156

IV

68

Kusam1

39.56

1003.85

0.04

157

IV

170

Ch’eel2

39.40

915.91

0.04

158

IV

–

Hypothetical45

39.29

669.28

0.06

159

IV

–

Hypothetical14

39.29

669.28

0.06

160

IV

Áaktun1

39.29

669.28

0.06

161

IV

159 1

127

(Continued) 117

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Table 4.1. Table showing the results of the construction volume and surface area calculations for Late Classic Uxul (Continued) FID

Household name

Construction volume (m3)

Surface area (m2)

Volume to surface ratio (m3/m2)

Rank

Status

95

Ts’unu’un1

37.50

476.54

0.08

162

IV

–

Hypothetical59

35.46

819.43

0.04

163

IV

–

Hypothetical28

35.46

819.43

0.04

164

IV

Ya’

35.46

819.43

0.04

165

IV

74

R2

35.39

536.91

0.07

166

IV

89

Ts’unu’un2

34.66

537.17

0.06

167

IV

–

Hypothetical49

33.90

617.57

0.05

168

IV

–

Hypothetical18

33.90

617.57

0.05

169

IV

Péepem1

33.90

617.57

0.05

170

IV

60

G4

33.85

563.43

0.06

171

IV

26

Ya’ab10

33.83

454.89

0.07

172

IV

–

Hypothetical50

33.03

559.75

0.06

173

IV

123

129

–

Hypothetical19

33.03

559.75

0.06

174

IV

Péepem2

33.03

559.75

0.06

175

IV

126

Áaktun2

32.95

692.75

0.05

176

IV

20

Ya’ab7

32.19

602.52

0.05

177

IV

21

Ya’ab4

31.95

471.48

0.07

178

IV

172

Ma’alob Paakat2

31.30

675.33

0.05

179

IV

130

96

N3

29.75

808.37

0.04

180

IV

–

Hypothetical60

28.28

578.35

0.05

181

IV

–

Hypothetical29

28.28

578.35

0.05

182

IV

115

other1

28.28

578.35

0.05

183

IV

–

Hypothetical42

27.91

550.12

0.05

184

IV

–

Hypothetical11

27.91

550.12

0.05

185

IV

Mejen4

27.91

550.12

0.05

186

IV

144 –

Hypothetical5

27.26

605.71

0.05

187

IV

–

Hypothetical36

27.26

605.71

0.05

188

IV

142

Jats’al Ja’

27.26

605.71

0.05

189

IV

116

O3

26.51

457.58

0.06

190

IV

166

Ku’uk

26.28

443.16

0.06

191

IV

38

Tsuub2

26.17

494.99

0.05

192

IV

178

Iik’3

25.87

484.41

0.05

193

IV

10

Kéej3

24.21

426.92

0.06

194

IV

–

Hypothetical34

23.07

334.11

0.07

195

IV

–

Hypothetical3

23.07

334.11

0.07

196

IV

154

Yuntsilo’ob

23.07

334.11

0.07

197

IV

143

Mejen3

21.96

407.70

0.05

198

IV

161

Tzabkan1

21.48

451.27

0.05

199

IV

–

Hypothetical44

21.46

403.27

0.05

200

IV

–

Hypothetical13

21.46

403.27

0.05

201

IV

Ki’ichpan2

21.46

403.27

0.05

202

IV

158 –

Hypothetical62

20.61

348.51

0.06

203

IV

–

Hypothetical31

20.61

348.51

0.06

204

IV

134

Péepem3

20.61

348.51

0.06

205

IV

23

Ya’ab11

19.73

472.80

0.04

206

IV

118

Wealth Inequality and Stratification FID – –

Household name Hypothetical43

Construction volume (m3)

Surface area (m2)

Volume to surface ratio (m3/m2)

Rank

Status

19.72

271.43

0.07

207

IV

Hypothetical12

19.72

271.43

0.07

208

IV

Mejen2

19.72

271.43

0.07

209

IV

–

Hypothetical41

19.33

370.68

0.05

210

IV

–

139

Hypothetical10

19.33

370.68

0.05

211

IV

147

Ch’íich’1

19.33

370.68

0.05

212

IV

47

H3

16.78

644.27

0.03

213

IV

–

Hypothetical51

16.41

414.33

0.04

214

IV

–

Hypothetical20

16.41

414.33

0.04

215

IV

119

T’ool3

16.41

414.33

0.04

216

IV

167

Ch’eel1

16.16

481.95

0.03

217

IV

153

K’óom

15.35

372.51

0.04

218

IV

42

P2

13.92

270.23

0.05

219

IV

156

Iich2

13.42

327.59

0.04

220

IV

15

other2

10.50

226.56

0.05

221

IV

0

Saay

9.53

241.52

0.04

222

IV

70

R1

8.28

254.52

0.03

223

IV

57

F2

7.52

199.86

0.04

224

IV

3

Kéej5

7.19

290.74

0.02

225

IV

35

other3

4.94

98.56

0.05

226

IV

39

P3

4.85

95.05

0.05

227

IV

72

B3

4.62

138.55

0.03

228

IV

85

Lol3

4.61

103.00

0.04

229

IV

67

Kusam2

4.29

139.24

0.03

230

IV

120

O2

3.91

130.08

0.03

231

IV

36

Tsuub3

3.70

123.70

0.03

232

IV

28

Ya’ab3

3.48

154.51

0.02

233

IV

107

Níix4

3.25

177.09

0.02

234

IV

131

Mejen1

3.23

103.74

0.03

235

IV

99

Suup’2

3.00

157.34

0.02

236

IV

6

Chab3

2.99

96.04

0.03

237

IV

111

Suup’3

2.07

93.01

0.02

238

IV

176

Buk’tun2

1.55

57.15

0.03

239

IV

63

Báalam4

1.27

48.89

0.03

240

IV

41

Tsuub1

1.24

90.66

0.01

241

IV

169

Ch’eel3

1.15

89.70

0.01

242

IV

162

other4

1.02

33.59

0.03

243

IV

æ ö æ ö Gini index = ç å X iYi +1 ÷ - ç å X i +1Yi ÷ = 0.67 ø è i =1 ø è i =1

construction volume. This figure is likely higher than the actual Gini index would have been, since areas further away from the city center that have not been mapped are not taken into account, meaning that more prosperous and centrally located households are likely somewhat overrepresented.

where Xi is the cumulated proportion of the total households and Yi is the cumulated proportion of the

Indeed, when taking into account the hypothetical households outside of the mapped area of the site, the

When the Gini index is calculated for the known and mapped area of the site, including 181 households, based on the construction volumes the result is:

119

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 4.1. Lorenz curve of domestic construction volume at Uxul (Gini = 0.62) (see also Barnard 2021, 146, Figure 10.2).

When instead of construction volume, surface area of the households is being considered, the Gini-index of Uxul drops to 0.48. This discrepancy is consistent with the observation that in the case of dispersed Maya urban centers, floor surface is less of a scarce resource than in more densely populated communities and therefore less reflective of wealth compared to construction volume (Chase 2017; Peterson and Drennan 2018, 44; Smith et al. 2014, 312).

Gini index for Uxul during the Late Classic diminishes slightly: ö æ ö æ Gini index = ç å X iYi +1 ÷ - ç å X i +1Yi ÷ = 0.62 è i =1 ø è i =1 ø where Xi is the cumulated proportion of the total households and Yi is the cumulated proportion of the construction volume. The Lorenz curve for this Gini index of Uxul based on the construction volumes of its households can be seen in Figure 4.1, and the distribution of domestic construction volumes at Uxul can be seen in Figure 4.2. This figure, including the extrapolated data for the unmapped areas of Uxul, is considered here to be more reliable and closer to reality than the Gini index calculated on the basis of only the known areas of Uxul.

The palace complex, Group K, has a large influence on this figure, being responsible for 0.03 of the final Gini coefficient based on construction volume. On its own, it represents 14.3% of the total construction volume in domestic contexts at Uxul. When the palace complex is not taken into account, the Gini index for construction volume drops to 0.59, showing it is significantly larger than any of the other household contexts. The second largest household group by volume is Group Ak’ which, with 5% of the total domestic construction volume, is still very large, but significantly smaller than the main palace. The top 1% of households possess about 20% of the total wealth as measured by household architectural volume. The top 10% of households represent almost 53% of the total.

A Gini index of wealth inequality of 0.62 is still quite a high figure, indicating a relatively high degree of inequality in terms of wealth. As a comparison, the Gini index for income inequality in Germany was 0.32 as of 2016, and 0.41 in the USA as of 2018 (World Bank Group). However, the degree of wealth inequality for Late Classic Uxul is lower than that of many modern capitalist industrialized societies, including Germany (0.78) and the USA (0.86) as of 2020 (World Economic Forum 2018).

These results are comparable to other similar studies of Mesoamerican archaeological sites (see Chase 2017, 37). The Gini indices calculated at Uxul, both using construction 120

Wealth Inequality and Stratification

Figure 4.2. Histogram showing the distribution of domestic construction volumes at Uxul.

Table 4.2. Gini values for residential architecture areas and volumes at Uxul and elsewhere (Brown et al. 2012, 317–18; Chase 2017, 37; Hutson 2016, 153–56; Kohler et al. 2018, 305; Smith et al. 2014, 318) Site Uxul

Period

Gini index: household area

Gini index: household volume

0.48

0.62

0.34

0.60

Late Classic From Chase (2017)

Caracol

Late Classic

From Brown et al. (2012) Mayapan

Late Postclassic

0.32

–

Palenque

Late Classic

0.44

–

Sayil

Late Classic

0.71

–

Chunchucmil

Early Classic

Dzibilchaltun

Late Classic

From Hutson (2016) –

0.63

0.39

–

From Kohler et al. (2018) Tikal

Classic

0.62

–

From Smith et al. (2014) Capilco

LPC-A

0.10

0.06

Capilco

LPC-B

0.16

0.09

Cuexcomate

LPC-A

0.48

0.46

Cuexcomate

LPC-B

0.25

0.19

Yautepec

LPC-B

0.21

0.33

Teotihuacan

Classic

0.12

–

121

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands volumes and surface areas of households as proxies for wealth, are similar to those found at other Maya sites, such as Caracol (Chase 2017, 37), Mayapan (Brown et al. 2012, 317), Palenque (Brown et al. 2012, 318), Chunchucmil (Hutson 2016, 153–56), Tikal (Kohler et al. 2018, 305), and Dzibilchaltun (Hutson 2016, 153–56). They are clearly different, however, from Central Mexico (Smith et al. 2014, 318) where differences in wealth seem to have been much less pronounced (see Table 4.2).

and Pu’uk (rank = 14). On a third level (III), there is a section of society that was quite wealthy, but not extremely so, and did not belong to the ultra-rich elite of categories I and II. This level includes 39 households which each represent between 0.5% and 0.8%, and accumulate 24.4% of the total domestic construction volume. Category III includes the extensively excavated household groups of Ma’ax 1 (rank = 25) and G2 (rank = 39). The remaining 185 households (76% of all the household groups at the site, thus representing the large majority of the Uxul population) form category IV, the poorest layer of Uxul society. Each of these households represents less than 0.4% of the total domestic construction volume, with some, of course, being significantly larger than others, but with no clear inflection points indicating strict separations between further economic classes. These households accumulate 27.8% of the total construction volume, only slightly more than the much smaller category III households together, and less than the even smaller category II households. Category IV includes the extensively excavated household of Ya’ab 5 (rank = 96), as well as households Ya’ab 1 (rank = 64), Ya’ab 2 (rank = 102), Ya’ab 3 (rank = 233), Ya’ab 4 (rank = 178), Ya’ab 6 (rank = 71), Ya’ab 7 (rank = 177), Ya’ab 9 (rank = 138), Ya’ab 10 (rank = 172), and Ya’ab 11 (rank = 206). Figure 4.5 shows the location of each of the households of the status categories.

4.2.1. Stratification The ways in which wealth is distributed among households can provide insight into socio-economic processes within a society, and the way the economy is organized (Friesen and Scheidel 2009; Kohler et al. 2017, 619; Savoia, Easaw, and McKay 2010, 142). Based on the volumetric calculations and the inflection points in the distribution of construction volumes, four different socio-economic strata can be clearly distinguished at Uxul purely on the basis of wealth (see Figure 4.3 and Figure 4.4). As discussed above, the palace complex K (rank = 1) is very significantly larger than any other household. On its own, it represents the wealthiest category (category I). On a second level (II), 18 groups represent a secondary, very wealthy elite, each containing between 1% and 5% of the total domestic construction volume. Together, the households of this stratum represent 33.5% of the total domestic construction volume at Uxul. Category II includes the extensively excavated household groups of Ak’ (rank = 2), M1 (rank = 3), Wob (rank = 4), Baak (rank = 7), K’áak’ (rank = 10),

It should be noted that these distinctions are not directly visible when considering surface area instead. Indeed, while higher rank households generally tend to also occupy more horizontal space, there is significant overlap

Figure 4.3. Histogram of domestic construction volumes at Uxul showing the distribution of households of different status categories.

122

Wealth Inequality and Stratification

Figure 4.4. Boxplot showing the distribution of domestic construction volumes for the four socio-economic categories at Uxul.

between the categories in the surface areas their households occupied. These same wealth categories can be recognized, however, when plotting their volume to surface ratio on a scatter plot (see Figure 4.6). While there is also overlap between the categories, the pattern that is seen reinforces the distinctions between categories II and III, as well as between III and IV specifically. Firstly, all category II households had a higher volume to surface ratio, rapidly increasing with rank and wealth, than all category III households. This is characterized by an increasing focus of category II households on vertical architecture rather than horizontal expansion, investing wealth into making their household more massive, on higher platforms, and more visually imposing with increasing intensity as their wealth accrued. Category III households did not show a similarly steep increase in their volume to surface ratio as category II households, showing instead a much smaller range. This relative plateau is characterized by investment in both vertical and horizontal expansion (although in differing degrees, see below) This inflection point in the volume to surface ratio curve confirms the distinction between category II and III households as belonging to distinct socio-economic classes, with different architectural strategies.

of the category III curve, clearly separating categories III and IV. Whereas category IV households gradually and relatively linearly increased their volume to surface ratio as their wealth and rank increased, category III households show a different distribution, seemingly changing their construction strategies above a certain level of wealth. This sharp increase is characterized by a slight decrease in surface area of these households but a significant increase in construction volume. This means that people at the poorer end of the category III households invested significantly more in vertical architecture, building more impressive masonry houses, than people at the wealthier end of the category IV households. Apparently, there was a point in wealth accumulation where people with a certain amount of wealth changed their household construction strategies, switching from a focus on horizontal expansion to vertical stone architecture, visually marking their belonging to a wealthier socio-economic class and differentiating themselves from the poorer category IV households. Thus, this inflection point on the observed curve for volume to surface ratio solidifies the demarcation between category III and IV households as belonging to distinct socio-economic classes. The subsequent decline that can be seen in volume to surface ratios as households get wealthier is characterized by a continued focus on vertical architecture, but accompanied again by a focus on horizontal expansion.

As can be seen in Figure 4.6, there is a peak in the volume to surface ratio of households on the lower end 123

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 4.5. Map of Uxul showing the status of each household based on construction volume.

The results of the calculations of non-perishable construction volumes as a proxy for wealth thus reflect a partially stratified, complex society, with distinct socioeconomic classes as reflected in household architecture. Late Classic Uxul had a relatively small, extremely wealthy elite (categories I and II), a possible middle class

that was quite wealthy, but not extremely so (category III), and a relatively large and poor commoner class (category IV). Similar patterns are observed in many modern commercialized societies. Such patterns of wealth distribution are broader and more continuous than would be expected in societies where economic power is highly 124

Wealth Inequality and Stratification

Figure 4.6. Plot showing the volume to surface ratios of households according to rank and status category.

centralized and where wealth is accessed strictly through noble or commoner legal status (Steere and Kowalewski 2012, 38). Instead, this suggests that Uxul had a complex stratification system, but seemingly not a rigid, centralized hierarchy. Any further more rigid social hierarchies and distinctions between social classes that may have existed seem to not be directly related to levels of wealth.

a few extreme outliers (the super-rich) show very high values (Brown et al. 2012, 311; Nirei and Aoki 2016; Pareto 1897). Specifically, this means that while “shocks” or changes in such an economic system affect all of its members, they are affected in ways that are proportional to their initial wealth, meaning that inequalities are typically maintained and reinforced: the rich get richer while the poor stay poor (Brown et al 2012; Colombi 1990, 18). Modern distributions of wealth and income, however, may not all be strict power laws, but rather form more complex curves (Abul-Magd 2002, 66; Brown et al. 2012, 31; Brzezinski 2014, 162).

4.2.2. Economic distribution model Wealth and income distributions are the results of the interaction of many factors, both micro- and macroeconomic (Targetti Lenti 1990, 57). This means that differences in these curves can give insight into the processes that produced the economic distribution (Brown et al. 2012, 312; Nirei and Aoki 2016). For example, preferential attachment models (translating to “rich get richer” processes) are known to produce powerlaw or lognormal distributions (Brown et al. 2012, 312; Colombi 1990, 18). Such distributions are mathematically described as one quantity varying as the power of another quantity, meaning that the relative change in one variable results in a proportional relative change in the other variable. Wealth and income have often been modeled as following a type of power law, with most of the data having low values and with a long right tail, meaning that

A double logarithmic plot is typically used to test for the existence and nature of a power-law distribution, where a straight diagonal line indicates the existence of a true power-law distribution of values (Brown et al. 2012, 317; Brzezinski 2014, 162; Fazio and Modica 2012, 5). As can be seen in Figure 4.7, however, Uxul does not show the wealth distribution of a strict power-law. Instead, the distribution seen at Uxul resembles a Pareto-lognormal distribution, or Pareto weak law (see Fazio and Modica 2012, 5). This type of distribution is characterized by the highest values (in the case of Uxul, the wealthiest households, i.e. those belonging to categories I, II, and III) forming the straight line expected in a true power125

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 4.7. Double logarithmic plot showing the relationship between construction volumes and rank at Uxul (see also Barnard 2021, 146, Figure 10.3).

law or Pareto distribution, but the lower values of the right tail (in this case the poorer households belonging to the lower class category IV) curving down like for a lognormal distribution (Fazio and Modica 2012, 5). Such a distribution corresponds to a trend that is observed in most modern commercialized economies (Brzezinski 2014; Colombi 1990, 18; Fazio and Modica 2012; Nirei and Aoki 2016).

mobility was low. While the inequalities produced by such an economic model are strong, however, they are not as fixed and immutable as with a pure Pareto distribution. Indeed, economists observe that in societies that show a Pareto-lognormal distribution of wealth, economic mobility is low, but possible (Brzezinski 2014; Colombi 1990, 18; Fazio and Modica 2012; Nirei and Aoki 2016). It can be concluded, then, that Late Classic Uxul society corresponds to a preferential attachment model in which the rich continuously got richer and maintained their wealth, while the poor generally stayed poor but did have access to opportunities to increase their wealth.

Pareto-lognormal distributions are the result of the interaction of a number of random, stochastically independent variables that affect households of different levels of wealth differently (Brzezinski 2014, 162; Colombi 1990, 19; Nirei and Aoki 2016). Indeed, these random variables are favorable to those with high initial levels of wealth (Brzezinski 2014, 162). Economic models show that in a society with a wealth distribution like this, both the rich and the poor benefit or suffer from the same random mechanisms that affect their accumulation of wealth, but their wealth is affected proportionally, so that the rich tend to gain more from the same economic processes than the poor do (Abul-Magd 2002; Brzezinski 2014, 162; Colombi 1990; Nirei and Aoki 2016). Additionally, the Pareto exponent of the wealthiest households (i.e. categories I, II, and III, the portion of households that form the straight line of a power law on the double logarithmic plot) is relatively low (r2 = 0.97), suggesting that there were only very minimal equalizing mechanisms in place (see Nirei and Aoki 2016, 37). Overall, this means that opportunities for the accumulation of wealth were unequal, and economic

This does not mean, however, that the elite highly controlled the economy of Uxul. Indeed, Pareto-lognormal distributions of wealth are known to develop in partially commercialized systems that are overseen by and skewed in favor of the wealthiest, but where market exchange is free (Brzezinski 2014; Colombi 1990, 18; Fazio and Modica 2012; Nirei and Aoki 2016). The high degree of economic inequality found for Uxul together with the low economic mobility corresponding to a preferential attachment model, indicate the existence of mechanisms that assured the maintenance of the status and wealth of the highest elite. However, because of the complexity and random nature of the economic processes that lead to a Pareto-lognormal distribution, it is extremely unlikely that direct centralized redistribution by an elite would result in such a pattern. Instead, this indicates a certain level of economic control by the ruling class, skewing wealth 126

Wealth Inequality and Stratification distributions in their own favor, but not a complete control. This is also supported by the partially stratified nature of Late Classic Uxul society, and the possible existence of a middle class. Indeed, an economic model in which a ruling class had complete control over the economy, wealth was accessed directly through legal status, and where there was no free market in place would be expected to result in a less complex distribution of wealth and a highly stratified society (Smith 1976a, 335). The way wealth was distributed in Uxul does not support the hypothesis of a system based on centralized redistribution. Instead, Pareto-lognormal distributions are known to emerge in societies where the economy is largely based on partially commercialized systems, where a ruling elite maintains a certain amount of, but not total, control over economic processes (through mechanisms such as taxation, control of resources, laws about who is allowed to trade what, etc.), but where market exchange itself is free. This kind of distribution can be observed in many modern commercialized societies and is consistent with systems that are largely based on market exchange supervised by a government, skewed in favor of its wealthiest members, with low (but not impossible) economic mobility, and not based on rigid centralized class hierarchies (Brzezinski 2014; Colombi 1990, 18; Fazio and Modica 2012; Nirei and Aoki 2016).

127

5 Settlement Organization: Household Location and Mobility Here, I apply the approach discussed in 2.2.3 Studying socio-political and economic power structures to Late Classic Uxul, using mobility and patterns of household location in order to study the way Late Classic Uxul was organized. This section explains the exact methodology I used in order to study pedestrian mobility in ancient Uxul, following the methods outlined by Richards-Risetto and Landau (2014). The calculations were performed on the basis of the surface data gathered using a Total Station and the resulting digital elevation model (DEM) (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010; Reichel and Volta 2015; Volta 2011, 2012, 2013). All calculations were done using the ESRI© ArcGIS (10) software, using the following tools and parameters:

Using the Path Distance (Spatial Analyst) tool in ArcGIS, I generated travel-time surfaces, which represent the minimum accumulated cost to move from a start location to all other points on the map. These surfaces were generated for all households, and are anisotropic, meaning that they take into account the direction of slope (uphill vs. downhill). The source locations for these surfaces were represented by a point in the middle of each household patio, or immediately next to the likely entrance of a single house. The input parameters used were the travel cost surface and a linear vertical graph based on slope. Then, using the Cost Path (Spatial Analyst) tool, the least cost path trajectories and minimum travel times required to reach destinations from each source location were calculated using the travel-time surfaces. This process was automated, using the ArcGIS Model builder. The tables showing travel times in seconds associated with each set of source locations and paths were exported and integrated into a workable database. Thus, tables showing the travel times from each household to each other household (and back), as well as from each household to the aguadas, ceremonial centers, and chultunes were created.

• Speed surface: a speed surface represents how fast one can travel across a single cell of the DEM. This speed is obtained by inputting the slope (generated from the DEM) of each cell into a walking algorithm, in this case Tobler’s hiking function (Tobler 1993). Tobler’s hiking formula can be computed as: W = (6 * exp (−3.5 * (Abs(Tan(Rad(“slope”))+0.05)))

where W is walking velocity in km/h, −3.5 is a constant derived from an optimum travel speed on a −3.5° downslope, and the slope is calculated from the raster file in degrees. Tobler’s hiking function assumes a velocity of 5km/h on flat terrain. The speed surface was converted to meters per second using the raster calculator. • Friction surface: a friction surface represents the difficulty as a percentage of total cost to cross a single cell on the map. This incorporates parameters that may influence movement across the site other than mere slope. In this case, the water reservoirs represent complete barriers through which it is impossible to walk. Corrientales (stream cuts) were considered partial barriers and were assigned a weighted cost of movement by a factor of 1.8 so as to prevent travel within them but permit travel across them (it should be noted that this does not take into account seasonal variation and the possible use of intermittently dry corrientales during the dry season). The two sacbeob were considered conduits, and were assigned a weighted factor of 0.5 so as to facilitate movement along them. • Travel cost surface: Map algebra was used to integrate the weighted variables of the friction surface with the speed surface, creating a new surface that incorporates both features of the natural and of the cultural landscape which may have influenced travel through Uxul. This surface represents the total estimated time required to move from one cell to another in seconds per meter.

The full lists of walking times from each household to each other household can be seen in Appendix 2. The full lists of walking times from each household to the aguadas, ceremonial centers, and the nearest chultunes can be seen in Appendix 3. 5.1. Methodological discussion As with any GIS application, it should be noted that any results are approximations of real-life circumstances, rather than actual representations. The walking times obtained from intra-site mobility analysis represent estimates for walking times for a fictional average person. In reality, actual walking times would have been influenced by many other factors such as an individual’s age, height, physical fitness, the weight of objects being carried, restrictive clothing, etc. Additionally, the least cost paths calculated here represent the path that would have been taken if the one and only concern of a person were walking time and assuming that the entire surface of the site was uniform. In reality, many more factors would have influenced itinerary decision-making, such as variation in vegetation and surface texture (loose sand vs. mud vs. hard surface), lines of visibility, conventions on where to walk, spaces that had special meanings (whether sacred or otherwise), functions of spaces that may have attracted or repelled people, laws and norms, etc. Furthermore, formally planned paths do not always strictly follow least-cost principles, serving as conduits to direct people uniformly along desired

129

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands locations. It is possible, for example, that paths would have preferentially been located close to large buildings in an attempt to impress the people walking along them and thus legitimize power, meaning that concerns other than mere energy reduction may have played a role in path planning. However, in open environments, we know that even when formal paths are planned, if these do not follow least-cost principles, people tend to create their own shortcuts that do (see desire paths frequently observed in parks where planned paths are impractical). GIS approaches are unable to take into account influences that are difficult to quantify, such as social phenomena and conventions, but they can provide us with the most likely scenarios given known factors.

been responsible for overseeing the city’s economic and political organization), while poorer people may have cared more about their proximity to resources like water and quarries, since they would have had to walk to them themselves. Such patterns should be apparent in a mobility analysis, and can tell us more about the way Uxul was organized socially and economically. Seasonal changes to hydrology and vegetation were not taken into account in this analysis. It would be possible to incorporate such factors, although more easily for hydrology than for vegetation variation, but this was beyond the scope of the present analysis. The use of walking times to construct a social network is a method that measures the potential for daily interactions, rather than actual interactions. It is important to note that human social behavior is driven by much more than mere physical proximity. Factors such as family ties, occupational factors, political and religious responsibilities, friendships, etc. all have a huge impact on who we interact with on a day-to-day basis, and can be much more important than physical proximity alone, but such ties are not represented in a mobility-based social network because of a lack of relevant data. However, mobility is a factor in all our social relationships: we tend to see people that live closer to us more frequently than those to whom we have similar social ties, but who live further away. We see and interact with people who are in close proximity to us more frequently, even if we have no significant social ties to them. Furthermore, modern urban planners emphasize the importance of connections within neighborhoods and study the role of service facilities in promoting or reducing social cohesion (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 145). Thus, a network based on mobility alone represents the potential for daily interactions, but is not concerned with the quality or nature of such interactions, only their potential frequency and role in social processes within the neighborhood.

The least-cost path analysis calculates walking times for any member of the household to other locations, but it does not tell us anything about who the people walking to these locations actually were. It is unlikely that each and every member of a household walked the exact same paths every day, and instead, individual people would have walked to destinations depending on their individual role in the household, and personal preferences. Thus, this analysis does not, for example, deal with the possibility of rich households including servants who would have been the ones to walk to certain destinations in order to access resources such as water. Indeed, it seems unlikely that the king himself would have walked down to the aguada with a vessel each day himself. As such, walking time from a wealthy household to the water sources of Uxul may not have had the same implications as walking times for poorer households, as the heads of wealthy households would have delegated the task to those members of the household lowest in the hierarchy, while poorer people would have had to make the trip themselves. This means that the wealthier members of society would likely have had more time for other activities such as craft production, religious activities, leisure, etc. than those who could not afford servants. Furthermore, this means that wealthier people may not have cared as much about the location of their house with regard to for example water sources as poor people, since they didn’t have to make the trip themselves. However, being further away from resources would then have meant longer walking times for servants, meaning that they would have had less time for other activities, so that even when people were in a position to delegate such tasks to servants, they would still have had an incentive to live close to resources. However, the incentive would have had different implications than for poor people who could not afford servants, which may be reflected differently in patterns of access. While it is a limitation of this study that such parameters are difficult to take into account because of a lack of relevant data, it also means that the differences in patterns of mobility between wealthier and poorer members of society can reveal the incentives people may have had for choosing the location of their house. For example, it is possible that the elite cared more about their proximity to religious institutions (because they may have played a role in the religious life of the city) and social integration (because they may have

Another limitation related to a lack of data is the fact that the map of Uxul is not complete. For obvious reasons, it was not possible to include those parts of the settlement situated outside of the mapping area, which may have affected in particular the network analysis, as it means that ties to certain peripheries are obscured. Furthermore, this means that we don’t have data on walking times for certain groups of people, notably those living on the peripheries of the site, even though we can assume that differences in mobility between those living inside the mapped area and those outside of it would have been significant. Thus, the present analysis of differences in access to resources and services as related to location within Uxul is incomplete. However, this does not negate the validity of differences between spatial groupings within the site core. Furthermore, while an estimated 24% of Classic Uxul households are not included, the surveyed portion of the site is representative enough of the site as a whole in order to be able to make inferences on the statistical differences between socio-economic classes. In particular, 130

Settlement Organization the fact that some of the largest and richest households are found on the peripheries that were mapped (see 4.2 Wealth inequality in Uxul), indicates that there is no strict delineation between the rich and the poor in terms of their presence in the central or peripheral areas. Thus, while people on the periphery of the city and from the poorer end of the spectrum may be underrepresented in this analysis, the sample is representative enough to allow for general trends to be visible.

obtained from the Least Cost Path analysis to construct a social network of connections between the households. In this approach, shorter walking times represent stronger social connections, not because of actual existing connections between the members of two given households, since these can’t be measured, but rather their potential for daily face-to-face interactions. In this way, neighborhoods can be visualized and delineated directly on the basis of potential face-to-face interactions of their members.

These calculations, despite limitations to the methodology, represent estimates of total walking times, and because they are all subject to the same limitations and biases, they are comparable to each other. While there is an inherent margin of error present for all the measurements, the general patterns that emerge are a valid representation of pedestrian mobility in Uxul.

For this analysis, I imported all the households and their corresponding walking times to other households (see Appendix 2 for the full table) into the social network analysis software Visone. Each household is represented by a node. I determined the average walking time from each household to each other household, which represents the edges of the network (meaning that the connection between households A and B corresponds to the average between the walking time from A to B and from B to A). Edges representing the longest walking times were then removed until all nodes (except for four outliers) were linked to at least one other node with the lowest number of connections possible, following methodology by Weidele and Brughmans (2015). The network was visualized using a spring-embedded network graph, where shorter walking times are represented by shorter edges so that households that were better connected to each other appear closer together. Hierarchical clustering was then produced using the Girvan-Newman Clustering algorithm (in which edge betweenness, i.e. the number of times an edge is part of the shortest path between any two nodes, is used to identify clusters of nodes), showing statistically significant clusters as well as the isolation between clusters. The result of this network visualization can be seen in Figure 5.1. A full list of each household and the neighborhood it belonged to can be seen in Appendix 1.

5.2. Neighborhoods in Uxul The theory and methods behind the identification of neighborhoods in the archaeological record and, more specifically, in the case of ancient Maya dispersed urban centers, are discussed in detail in 2.2.3 Studying socio-political and economic power structures. Here, I apply this approach to Late Classic Uxul, using an intra-site mobility analysis in order to identify and study neighborhoods in Late Classic Uxul. Uxul is a particularly continuously dispersed urban center, with no readily visible high-density household groupings or groupings that are clearly separated from others and that may correspond to neighborhoods. A simple spatial clustering analysis using the Average Nearest Neighbor (Spatial statistics Tools) in ESRI© ArcGIS (10) reveals no significant clustering, nor a significantly regularly dispersed pattern for households in Uxul based on Euclidean distance (z-score = 1.08, P = .28 > .1), which means that household location in Uxul instead resembles a random spatial distribution without any clear identifiable pattern.

This step of the analysis shows a clearly visible separation between several groups of households. The group of households that is most clearly isolated from the rest of the site is comprised of the households north of the seasonal water stream running from east to west directly north of the central part of the city (see Figure 5.2). Because this corriental is quite steep, it would have taken people significant extra time to either cross it or walk around it (barring the existence of bridges, of which we have no evidence). This also means that during the rainy season, people may have been forced to walk around the corriental, depending on how impassible it would have become when water was flowing through it. This group of households, which is connected to the rest of the settlement through only four edges in the social network analysis visualization, is here referred to as the northern neighborhood of Uxul.

However, the topography of Uxul does show significant variation. Indeed, the generally flat meseta that the main settlement is located on is at places interrupted by seasonal corrientales and bedrock outcrops. Such features would have interrupted pedestrian travel and forced people to either walk around them or cross them at increased effort in order to get to where they wanted to go. Thus, especially the seasonal waterways would likely have effectively separated parts of the site from others, isolating groups of households even when they are located close to the center of the city in terms of Euclidean distance. Thus, it becomes apparent that divisions between groups of households may have existed that are obscured by simple spatial analysis approaches, but may that be revealed by considering walking times instead.

Another group of households that is visibly separated from the rest of the settlement, although somewhat less drastically than the northern neighborhood, are the households to the southwest of the settlement. Similar to the northern neighborhood, these households are separated

In order to reveal significant groupings of households within Uxul, I used the walking times between households 131

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 5.1. Social network visualization of the Uxul households based on walking times (spring-embedded network visualization with Girvan Newman Clustering groups).

from the center of the site through a seasonal water stream. Although this corriental’s slopes are less steep than those of the northern corriental, it would still have been an obstacle to reaching this part of the city, prolonging walking times. While this effect is less drastic, and the social network shows more edges connecting it to the rest of the site than is the case for the northern neighborhood, this group of households is still clearly segregated from the rest of the settlement. This group is referred to as the southwestern neighborhood.

The first is a tightly connected group of households to the north of the central part of the site. It is separated from the northern neighborhood by the northern corriental, and is located to the north of the sacbeob and the ceremonial centers of Groups C, D, and K (see Figure 5.2). As can be seen on the map, these households are located on a plateau that is slightly lower than the ceremonial and palatial complexes to the south. The topography, as well as the layout of the sacbeob and ceremonial centers creating an axis through this part of the site, would have contributed to the separation of this neighborhood from the rest of the settlement, both physically in terms of walking times, and symbolically. This group will be referred to as the centralnorthern neighborhood.

Two further groups of households could clearly be separated from the rest of the settlement on the basis of the network visualization including the households of the entire site. 132

Settlement Organization

Figure 5.2. Map of Uxul showing the location of all individual households and their organization into neighborhoods.

Similarly, a group of households is separated from the more central parts of the settlement to the northeast. This group is also located on a plateau that is slightly lower than the central part. This part of the settlement includes the eastern aguada and is linked to the rest of the settlement

through the eastern sacbe. It is separated from the centralnorthern neighborhood by one of the branches of the northern corriental, and from the northern neighborhood by the other branch (see Figure 5.2). This group is referred to as the northeastern neighborhood. 133

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands The four outliers that were not included in the social network presented here, as they are not connected to the rest of the settlement on the basis of the parameters used here, form another group. These are the four households that were identified in the low-lying lands to the west of the main meseta of the settlement (see Figure 5.2). All four are situated on the edge of the bajo, beneath the steep slope leading up to the main plateau. This slope would have effectively segregated these households from the rest of the settlement, making it difficult to reach anyone except each other. While these four households arguably form a group that is too small to be considered an actual neighborhood, for the purpose of this analysis the group is referred to as the western Bajo.

network is created, as can be seen in Figure 5.3. This more detailed view of the more central parts of Uxul allows us to identify more clearly the closely connected groups of households within it. Using this methodology, a distinction between three final groups can be made. First, there is a separation between a group of households in the southeast of the site and the rest of the central part of the settlement. While this separation is less clear in the social network visualization than some of the others, it is both statistically significant (using Girvan-Newman clustering, as can be seen in Figure 5.1 and Figure 5.3) and supported by the topography of the settlement. Indeed, this part of the site, like the two previous neighborhoods discussed, is located on a plateau that is slightly lower than the central part of the settlement, but somewhat higher than that on which the northeastern neighborhood is located. Thus, this group of households can be considered a separate neighborhood, and will be referred to as the southeastern neighborhood.

As can be seen from the network visualization of the entire settlement, the central part of the settlement seems to be further divided into separate groups: at least one central group, one to the west, and one to the southeast of the central group. However, the resolution here is not sufficient to clearly identify the separation between these groups or any further groups that may exist, as more subtle patterns are here obscured by the inclusion of the more strongly segregated neighborhoods described above. In order to have a more detailed image of the organization of the more central parts of the site, it is necessary to exclude the isolated neighborhoods defined above from the social network analysis, and consider only the connections between the remaining central neighborhoods. After taking out the data points for the northern, northeastern, centralnorthern, and southwestern neighborhoods, and applying the same methodology as before (i.e. removing the longest edges until all remaining nodes are connected to each other through the lowest amount of edges possible, and mapping the results using the Girvan-Newman Clustering algorithm), a new visualization of the social connectivity

Second, a clear statistical distinction can be seen between the central part of the site and a group of households to the west. This group of households is separated from the southwestern neighborhood by the southwestern corriental (see Figure 5.2), but also served to connect the latter neighborhood to the rest of the site (see Figure 5.1). Although the separation between this group of households and the central part of the site is not clearly seen on the map or explained by obvious topographic features of the landscape (see Figure 5.2), its statistical separation is clear in the social network based on walking times, with a single edge connecting it to the central area (see Figure 5.3). This group of households can therefore be considered as a separate neighborhood based on the social network, and will be referred to as the central-western neighborhood.

Figure 5.3. Social network visualization of Uxul’s households excluding the northern, northeastern, central-northern, and southwestern neighborhoods (spring-embedded network visualization with Girvan Newman Clustering groups).

134

Settlement Organization The remaining group at the center of the site is called the central neighborhood. It is located almost entirely on the main central meseta of the site (except for one household that is located on a lower terrace to the south of the main plateau, household nr. 159 in Figure 5.2) and includes the palace complex of Uxul. It is connected to the northeastern neighborhood through the eastern sacbe, to the northern neighborhood through the central-northern one, and to the southwestern neighborhood through the central-western one.

(Smith 2010, 150). While many preindustrial cities show a broad zonation of wealth and status throughout the city, it is common to find members of high ranking status and/or wealthy strata living in close proximity to central palaces or institutions, while lower-ranking people are distributed concentrically outside of central zones (Smith 2010, 150). Overall, however, there is a high level of variation in the extent and nature of socio-economic clustering in cities. While there is not enough data from Uxul in order to examine the distribution of categories such as ethnic, religious, or occupational groups throughout neighborhoods, their composition with regard to socioeconomic classes can be studied in more detail.

Although the last three neighborhoods discussed here (the central, central-western, and southeastern ones) are statistically separated in the social network analysis based on walking times between households, using GirvanNewman clustering, their separation will be treated with caution in any further analysis. Indeed, these three groups are both less clearly segregated than the other neighborhoods identified here, and not as clearly separated through morphological features in the landscape. While their separation into individual neighborhoods is thus consistent with our definition of neighborhoods based on the potential for daily face-to-face interaction, this is, as of yet, not clearly supported by other lines of evidence. This means that for the purposes of the following analyses of neighborhood organization, household location, social integration, and access to resources, these groups of households will be treated as separate neighborhoods, but any differences or lack thereof between them will serve to confirm or reject this separation. In this way, the use of walking times and social networks as a means of identifying neighborhoods in continuously dispersed settlements such as Uxul will be tested.

Table 5.1 shows the composition of each of the identified neighborhoods, including the number of households of each different status category and the presence of ceremonial centers (see 5.5.2 Mobility and religion: access to religious services for a discussion of the ceremonial centers). It should be noted, however, that we know that the survey of the site was not complete, meaning that households on the peripheries of the site may be missing. This would affect mainly the completeness of the data we have on the neighborhoods bordering the edges of the current map. Thus, it is possible that the northern, northeastern, southeastern, and southwestern neighborhoods are incomplete, and they may in fact have been larger than shown here. It is also possible that, based on the social network parameters used, households on the edges of the map were included in the known neighborhoods, when in actuality they may have belonged to unknown neighborhoods that fall almost entirely outside the mapped area. Furthermore, this means that patterns regarding the proportions of households of each of the status categories in these neighborhoods may not be entirely representative. Any statistical patterns for the Bajo group will be statistically non-significant given the low number of households it includes.

5.2.1. Neighborhood composition Many cities, both modern and pre-industrial, feature neighborhoods that contain heavy concentrations of single ethnic groups, social classes, religions, or occupations (Smith 2010, 150). Although completely uniform, homogeneous neighborhoods are rare, spatial clustering of such social parameters to some extent is very common

Although there is significant range in the size of the different neighborhoods, most of them fall into one of two size brackets. The central, central-northern, and northern neighborhoods

Table 5.1. Table showing the composition of the different neighborhoods of Late Classic Uxul Neighborhood Central

Nr. Of households I

II

III

IV

Total

1 (3%)

2 (7%)

4 (13%)

23 (77%)

30

Civic-ceremonial centers 3

Central-northern

–

1 (4%)

6 (23%)

19 (73%)

26

–

Central-western

–

4 (22%)

2 (11%)

12 (67%)

18

–

Northeastern

–

1 (5%)

2 (10%)

17 (85%)

20

1

Northern

–

2 (7%)

4 (14%)

23 (79%)

29

–

Southeastern

–

1 (5%)

1 (11%)

16 (84%)

19

–

Southwestern

–

4 (11%)

4 (11%)

27 (77%)

35

1

Western Bajo

–

1 (25%)

1 (25%)

2 (50%)

4

–

Unclear

–

–

–

–

–

2

1 (1%)

16 (9%)

25 (14%)

139 (77%)

181

7

Total

135

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands are very similar in size, with 30, 26, and 29 households each respectively. The central-western, northeastern, and southeastern neighborhoods form the second size bracket, with 18, 20, and 19 households respectively. Only the southwestern neighborhood, which is significantly larger with 35 households, and the western Bajo, which includes only four households, fall outside of these size ranges.

random distribution would show. Thus, the differences and similarities in the composition of the neighborhoods of Uxul are not statistically significant, and it cannot be confirmed that the distribution is not the result of a random process. In short, more data is needed in order to confirm or reject any hypothesis as to the origins and reasons for the organization of the neighborhoods and the role elites played within them.

While the central neighborhood is the only one containing a status I household, the palace complex K, the distribution of households of different economic status is relatively uniform across the neighborhoods. The lack of an overrepresentation of wealthy status II households in the central neighborhood close to the palace complex and several of the ceremonial complexes, representing 7% of its households, for 9% site-wide is not consistent with widespread observations of elites clustering around central palaces and ceremonial centers in urban contexts. Status II elites are significantly overrepresented in the centralwestern neighborhood, however, with 22% of its households falling into this category. It is possible that this distribution points to elites in the central-western neighborhood playing a different role within their neighborhood than those in more peripheral neighborhoods. Indeed, while only the central neighborhood contains the palace complex (category I), each of the other neighborhoods contains at least one (up to 4) of the high elite category II households. This may be consistent with the hypothesis of the highest elite playing an organizational or administrative role at the neighborhood level, with one or two of these households governing over the rest of the neighborhood. However, this is complicated by the fact that the southwestern neighborhood also contained an overrepresentation of wealthy category II households, with four total, corresponding to 11%. It is thus possible that the elite simply played different roles in different neighborhoods. The observed pattern could also be the result of simple statistical probability, however, and further analysis is necessary in order to either confirm or reject this, as will be seen further on in this chapter (see 5.6.2 Neighborhoods). Clustering of the elite in the center of the city is certainly not a strong or exclusive pattern here, as many also lived further away on the peripheries.

This neighborhood pattern does correspond, however, to patterns seen elsewhere in the Maya Lowlands. At Rio Bec, for example, neighborhoods were found to have been delineated by drainage channels and were characterized by both their social heterogeneity and hierarchy: each interfluve encompassed all defined ranks of residential groups (Arnauld et al. 2012, 218). This is very similar to the case of Uxul, where some of the neighborhoods are separated by corrientales, and each neighborhood includes all of the status categories (with the exception of the palace complex). At Rio Bec, Arnauld and colleagues (2012) argue that variation seems to have resulted from competition and/or cooperation among social groups rather than from the development of organizational institutions. The low degree of formal replication of specialized and public buildings and spaces from one neighborhood to the other suggests that there was no centralized oversight in the planning of these neighborhoods, but rather that their organization is the result of local socio-economic processes (Arnauld et al. 2012, 218). The same patterns can be seen at Uxul (see Table 5.1), meaning that while more research is needed into the exact organization of the neighborhoods, their composition is consistent with a lack of strong top-down processes. 5.2.2. Neighborhood chronology The lack of centralized oversight over the development of Uxul’s neighborhoods in favor of more organic development processes is also confirmed by their chronologies. It should be noted that because of excavation biases, the households for which a chronology (and therefore the earliest construction date) is known through either extensive excavation or test pits are not entirely representative of households along the socio-economic spectrum (a start date for 87.5% of the category II households is known, 68% of the category III households, and only 28.1% for the category IV households), meaning that more in-depth analysis of patterns of mobility for households of different ages will be partially obscured by patterns of wealth, and is therefore not performed with the present data. However, the dated households do represent a broad sample of households at different locations at the site, meaning that a broad analysis of the chronological evolution of the settlement and the different neighborhoods is possible (with the exception of the Southwestern neighborhood, for which the largest known part was mapped only in the 2015 field season (Reichel and Volta 2015), meaning excavations could not yet be performed there). Table 5.2 shows the known earliest dates of construction for households in the

While there is clear variation in the composition of the neighborhoods in terms of the presence of different status categories, especially in the proportions of relatively wealthy category III households (see Table 5.1), there is still a high degree of similarity between them. Indeed, a Brainerd-Robinson coefficient (see Cowgill 1990; Peeples 2011; Robinson 1951) shows a high measure of similarity between the neighborhoods with an average similarity coefficient of 178 out of 200. This is consistent with all the neighborhoods being organized in a similar manner, and each neighborhood being a reflection of the organization of the settlement as a whole. This observation follows those made by Arnauld and colleagues (2012, 205) about the nature of ancient Maya neighborhoods. However, this result is not statistically significant (P = .68 > .1). This means that this result is similar to what a 136

Settlement Organization Table 5.2. Table showing the date of the earliest known construction phase of households in different neighborhoods Neighborhood Central

Earliest construction phase Middle Preclassic

Late Preclassic

Early Classic

Total known

Unknown

1 (7.1%)

10 (71.4%)

3 (21.4%)

14

16

Central-northern

–

4 (66.7%)

2 (33.3%)

6

20

Central-western

–

8 (88.9%)

1 (11.1%)

9

9

Northeastern

–

5 (62.5%)

3 (37.5%)

8

12

Northern

–

8 (61.5%)

5 (38.5%)

13

16

Southeastern

–

3 (100%)

–

3

16

Southwestern

–

7 (43.8%)

9 (56.3%)

16

19

Western Bajo Total

–

1 (50%)

1 (50%)

2

2

1 (1.4%)

46 (64.8%)

24 (33.8%)

71

110

different neighborhoods. Figure 5.4 shows the locations of the households and the date of their earliest known construction phase. A full list of all households and their earliest known construction phase can be seen in Appendix 1.

responsible for decisions about where to settle next as the population of Uxul grew, this development is not consistent with clearly defined, preplanned expansion strategies. Instead, the present pattern is more consistent with organic growth of the different neighborhoods, with more and more people slowly moving further away from the city core as the population grew, but no centralized rigid planning. Indeed, centralized expansion programs would be expected to have been reflected in the organized settlement of a new zone in a relatively short amount of time and in predictable patterns. Instead, the gradual growth of peripheral zones, without any clear identifiable patterns of household location, suggests that their development was largely organic in nature and through bottom-up processes. Although centralized incentives may have been put in place to promote growth in certain areas at specific times, the chronology of the development of Uxul seems to have been at most the result of a combination of bottom-up and top-down processes.

There is a clear chronological evolution of the Uxul settlement, with construction during its earliest phases, in particular during the Late Preclassic, being concentrated in the central and central-western neighborhoods, as most of the households here were established during this time period. These neighborhoods, although they continued to grow during the Early Classic period, were already densely populated during the Late Preclassic, with over 78% of their households having existed by the end of this period. This does not mean, however, that construction was absent in the other zones of the settlement, with all neighborhoods showing habitation dating to the Late Preclassic period, although in lower concentrations. The central-northern, northeastern, and northern neighborhoods were established during the Late Preclassic, as most of their households were already built by this time, but became more densely populated during the Early Classic period, with an increase of the number of their households upward of 50%. The southwestern neighborhood was the only zone that saw most of its development happen during the Early Classic, with over half of its households being constructed during this period. By the start of the Late Classic, although construction and expansion of existing households continued throughout the site, all household groups had been established and all neighborhoods had reached their final extension (although it is unknown whether expansion continued in the unmapped peripheries of the settlement).

5.3. Household visibility Access and visibility in Maya cities were generally controlled as mechanisms that reinforced and reproduced social integration and/or segregation as they were used to transmit information about power, authority, and social status (Richards-Rissetto 2010, 11; Webster 2001). The visibility, indivisibility, and invisibility of urban features communicate information and help to structure social interaction and community organization (Kosiba and Bauer 2013; Richards-Rissetto 2010, 2017, 196). Visibility may serve as a cultural mechanism to send targeted messages to influence the establishment, maintenance, or transformation of social structure (Richards-Rissetto 2017, 196). In particular, the conspicuous consumption of other people’s work that is displayed in the use of highly visible monumental structures (in this case the work of skilled builders: the ones who most benefit from monumental construction tend not to be the ones to spend the effort needed to build it) is a universal symbol of high status, as it creates profound impressions of hierarchy and power (Webster 1998, 34).

Thus, while there is a clear outward expansion of the Uxul settlement, with construction concentrated in the center during the Late Preclassic and subsequently expanding to the peripheries during the Early Classic period, this was clearly not linear progress. Occupation of the peripheries was sparser in early periods, but not absent. While it is possible that centralized processes were partially 137

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 5.4. Map showing the earliest known construction dates for the households of Uxul.

It can be argued that, for Maya settlements in particular, the use of ground plan alone is far too superficial for understanding the social dynamics that were at play (Hohmann-Vogrin 2005, 285). Their open and dispersed configuration, with interior space being relatively scarce and open spaces constituted by plazas, courtyards, terraces, and platforms on different levels, mean that

Maya settlements were more like landscapes than city plans as they are known in modern cities (HohmannVogrin 2005, 285). Sights and views are determined by the altitude of open spaces: on the lowest levels, the view is limited, while the field of vision widens on higher levels, thus demonstrating social hierarchy in both a functional and a symbolic dimension (Hohmann-Vogrin 2005, 285). 138

Settlement Organization Thus, visibility analysis is able to reveal more about the interactions between different strata of Maya society (Hohmann-Vogrin 2005, 289).

expected that wealthier households systematically had a high location within their surrounding area. There are multiple ways in which wealthy households could have accomplished this. First, wealthy people would have had a strong incentive to build their houses in an elevated location. In this way, they would have had a starting advantage over the poorer households surrounding them, even without having to build particularly high platforms for the basis of their house. Thus, if wealthy people had the necessary incentives and power to secure such a location for their home, we would expect to see a systematic correlation between household wealth and the elevation of the base of the household platform.

Classic Maya iconography suggests a strong relationship between hierarchy and verticality, with those in power (gods and kings) routinely being depicted above their subjects (Richards-Rissetto 2017, 197). These vertical relationships were replicated in Maya architecture by systematically elevating royal compounds and ceremonial centers above other architecture, making them more visible (Martin 2001a; Richards-Rissetto 2017). Such visual mechanisms reinforced the power of rulers, both in a symbolic fashion by elevating them closer to the sky, and by extension to the deities and ancestors (RichardsRissetto 2017, 198), as well as through conspicuous consumption and an outward showcasing of their wealth, a visual representation of socio-economic inequalities, and legitimization of their sanctity and power (Inomata and Houston 2001; Webster 2001). Furthermore, these elevated locations would have allowed them not only to be seen, but also to see, and symbolically watch over the rest of the settlement (Richards-Rissetto 2017, 198). Maya palaces can thus be seen, beyond mere households, as instruments of royal rule and presentation (Webster 2001, 132). By extension, constructing tall houses in highly visible locations allows elites to send messages of status, wealth, and power, all while letting the non-elite who can see them know that they are being “watched over”. Research in Copan, Honduras, has shown that these visual mechanisms were consistently used throughout the site, with the main palace group being by far the most visible, and elite household compounds systematically being more visible than poorer households (Richards-Rissetto 2017). Furthermore, lower-status households were more visually segregated from each other, reinforcing the presence of visual hierarchy with a sense of being “watched over” by the elites (Richards-Rissetto 2017).

The second way to secure a high level of visibility would have been to invest in monumental architecture and erect a high platform on which to build the household structures. While less of a cost-effective way of securing better visibility than building on a high spot in the landscape, this would have had the advantage of providing a broader choice for household location. In this way, other concerns, such as social integration and access to certain resources and important places could also be taken into account when choosing a household location beyond mere visibility. Thus, if visibility was important, but not the main factor in the choice of household location, we would expect a systematic correlation between household wealth and the height of its platform, but not the elevation of its base. While the height of the constructions on top of the platform would have greatly contributed to their visibility, the actual maximum height of most of the households is not known, therefore only the height of the surface of the platform is taken into account here. It should therefore be noted that any correlation found between the height of the platform and household wealth would likely have been stronger had the height of the constructions on top of it been included. Furthermore, it should be noted that since the construction volume of domestic platforms was used as a factor in the determination of household wealth, a correlation between household wealth and platform height is very likely as it contributed to overall volume. However, platform height was not the only factor, as surface area and domestic structures also contributed to overall volume, meaning that the relationship between construction volume and platform height may not be a direct one, and variation in it may tell us more about the concerns of people when building their houses. This means that, while any correlation between household wealth and platform height must be interpreted with care and examined further as to the nature of the relationship between the two, patterns of correlation may still provide information about the relationship between wealth and the use of household visibility as a social marker.

5.3.1. Visibility and wealth While a full 3D GIS-based visibility analysis of the site is beyond the scope of this study, it is an obvious fact that households that are built on higher ground tend to be more visible within the urban landscape. In this way, a measure of household elevation can be used as a proxy for household visibility. While such a proxy is not perfect, as it does not take into account other features of the urban landscape and lines of sight that may have affected actual visibility, higher locations still tend to be systematically more visible than lower ones. Thus, patterns in household elevation should at least broadly reflect patterns of household visibility. A full list of each of the households, the elevation at their base, the elevation in the middle of the patio, and their elevations relative to the neighborhood can be seen in Appendix 1.

First, I looked for a correlation between household wealth and the elevation of the base of each household platform from a site-wide perspective. This resulted in an absence of any significant correlation (r = .007, P = .92 > .1). However, since there is significant variation in elevation across the settlement, and a measure of visibility would

If visibility was indeed used in Uxul as a way to reinforce social hierarchies by displaying domestic architecture as an outward sign of wealth and power, it would be 139

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands only have been relevant for the immediate surroundings of a given household, a smaller scale is more likely to be relevant in this context. As such, patterns in visibility are more likely to be seen at a smaller scale, such as the neighborhood, than at that of the entire settlement.

did not have the necessary power to secure a location for their household that would have provided them with an advantage for this goal. There are multiple possible explanations for this. The first is that being wealthy did not provide the influence necessary for choosing an advantageous location for the household, for example because land tenure was not subject to free market processes. Furthermore, if wealth did not correlate directly with social and political power, wealthy households may not have had the necessary influence to obtain advantages for their household location. It is also possible that many wealthy households were not particularly wealthy when the household was first established, but accumulated wealth over time, meaning that they would have had no significant advantage at the time a household location was chosen. Lastly, it is possible that other factors played a larger role in choosing a household location, so that visibility was not the most important one, as it was a factor that could also be obtained through the investment of resources. Instead, factors like access to certain resources and services or social integration may have played more important roles in the choice of household location, as will be explored further below.

In order to assess this correlation, the elevation of each household base was reduced to its elevation relative to the lowest household in the neighborhood by subtracting the latter (for example, if a household in the central neighborhood was located at 250.68 m above sea level, and the lowest household in that neighborhood at 232.96 m above sea level, the first would be noted as 17.72 m and the second as 0 m). This way, patterns regarding household elevation relative to the other households within the same neighborhood were measured, rather than relative to all households. However, no statistically significant correlation was found between household rank and its base elevation relative to the neighborhood (r = −.053, P = .48 > .1), meaning that wealthier households did not have a systematic advantage when it came to securing a high location for their households. When looking at the correlation between household rank and the elevation of platforms relative to the other households in the neighborhood (as measured in the middle of the patio), however, a statistically significant moderate inverse correlation is found (r = −.13, P = .09 < .1). This means that although wealthier households did not systematically build their houses on higher ground, they did systematically invest resources into elevating their households above the surrounding urban landscape. Indeed, as was expected, there is a strong statistical inverse correlation between household rank and the height of platforms (r = −.53, P = .00 < .01). While this is unsurprising because of the way household rank was determined on the basis of construction volume, the fact that platform elevation did correlate with household rank while the elevation of the location of the household did not, shows that wealthier households disproportionally invested in the height of their household. This is consistent with the fact that wealth inequality as represented by the Gini index was stronger when considering construction volume than surface area (see 4.2 Wealth inequality in Uxul), meaning that wealthier people invested more in elevating their household than in expanding its surface. In any case, this pattern of correlations means that even when wealthy households did not have access to higher locations for their households, they still tended to invest disproportionately into elevating their household platform, to the point that they would have become systematically more visible within the urban landscape than their poorer counterparts.

5.3.2. Household visibility patterns and neighborhoods While there is a correlation between platform elevation (and therefore visibility) and household wealth, this does not mean that all wealthy households were more prominent in the neighborhood landscape than all poor households (see Figure 5.5). Indeed, in most neighborhoods, the richest household is not necessarily the one with the highest platform elevation. For example, while the palace complex K is a high point within the central neighborhoods, several category II, as well as relatively poor category IV households, were actually more elevated. Thus, high elevation and visibility were not exclusive to the rich and powerful of Uxul. However, in all neighborhoods, the lowest household belongs to the relatively poor category 4, although many poor households also were able to either obtain relatively high locations for their household or build relatively high platforms. Thus, while the rich of Uxul seem to have had an incentive to build their households on high locations within the urban landscape and to invest in vertical architecture, high ground and good visibility were certainly not an exclusive privilege of the wealthy. The wealthy would have systematically been more visible within the urban landscape, but this does not mean that the poor were invisible. The rich enjoyed the advantages of high household visibility more systematically than their poorer counterparts, although many poorer people were able to obtain these same advantages. However, the rich were more likely to obtain them through investing in vertical architecture, while the poor typically obtained them through their household location.

The fact that there is a correlation between household wealth and household visibility within the neighborhood, but not between household wealth and the elevation of its location as compared to the neighborhood indicates that while wealthy households seemingly had an incentive to increase their visibility to their surroundings, they

There are clear differences both in the amount of variation in household elevation and in the degree of wealth-based segregation in visibility between the neighborhoods. The northern neighborhood shows the clearest link between 140

Settlement Organization

Figure 5.5. Graph showing the relative elevation of the top of household platforms within each neighborhood.

visibility, but instead they seem to have been slightly better able than elites elsewhere in the settlement to obtain a higher location in the landscape for their household, although this pattern is only reflected when considering household status, rather than absolute rank.

socio-economic status and household platform elevation. While it is not strictly segregated in terms of elevation, the highest elevated platform does belong to the wealthiest household. The variation in household elevation here, however, is much more pronounced than in the southeastern neighborhood. The northern neighborhood has one of the clearest patterns of correlation between household status and elevated household locations, with category II households being located in higher spots in the landscape on average, and categories III and IV in descending order (see Figure 5.6). There is significant variation in this pattern, though, with several poorer households being located in higher spots than their wealthier counterparts. There is no statistical correlation, however, between household rank and the elevation of the base of its platform as compared to the neighborhood (r = .02, P = .93 > .1). The same pattern can be seen for the elevation of platform surfaces, with the clearest pattern of households of higher status having higher elevated platforms on average (see Figure 5.5), although there is no statistically significant correlation between household rank and its platform elevation (r = −.01, P = .96 > .1). Interestingly, there is relatively little variation in the height of platforms in this neighborhood (see Figure 5.7), and unlike for the rest of the settlement, there is no statistically significant correlation between household rank and platform height (r = −.17, P = .38 > .1). In other words, the rich in this neighborhood did not disproportionately invest in vertical architecture in order to obtain an advantage in elevation, and consequently

The central-western neighborhood also shows a relatively clear link between household status and household elevation, both for the base of the platform and its surface (see Figure 5.5 and Figure 5.6). Although the highest household in the neighborhood was a relatively poor category IV household, and several poorer households were situated higher in the landscape than their richer counterparts, the rich category II households are on average located on higher grounds than category III and IV households respectively in descending order. This is true for overall visibility as based on the elevation of the top of household platforms as well. While there is no statistical correlation between household rank and the elevation of its base (r = −.36, P = .15 > .1), there is a relatively strong inverse correlation between household rank and the elevation of the top of the household platform, and by proxy visibility (r = −.43, P = .08 < .1). This is due to the strong inverse correlation between household rank and platform height in this neighborhood (r = −.52, P = .03 < .05). This means that although wealthy households here had a slight advantage in household elevation when choosing a location for their households (although this advantage is detected only when considering status, not 141

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 5.6. Graph showing the relative elevation of the base of household platforms within each neighborhood.

Figure 5.7. Graph showing the height of household platforms within each neighborhood.

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Settlement Organization individual household rank), their advantage in terms of visibility was exacerbated through a disproportional investment in vertical architecture.

wealth and platform height, much stronger than the northern neighborhood. Unlike in the central and centralwestern neighborhoods, however, this investment of the elites in vertical architecture did not translate into a systematically higher elevation of the top of the household platform, and therefore a higher degree of visibility, even when wealthy households weren’t located on a high point in the landscape. While elites here invested more into vertical architecture than their peers in the northern neighborhood, and in similar degrees as those in the central and central-western one, the strategy did not bestow them the same advantage with regard to elevation and visibility as in either of these neighborhoods. Thus, while their significant and disproportionate investment in creating high structures would certainly have elevated their visibility, they were either not able to invest sufficiently in it to systematically dominate the neighborhood landscape, or visibility was not their primary goal for the investment. Still, the towering platforms would have been imposing and a clear outwardly visual sign of their wealth and status, even if the people living in them did not have either the incentive or the power to obtain greater degrees of visibility.

In the central neighborhood, there is no clear pattern of higher status category households having higher elevations in the landscape as was the case for the previous two (see Figure 5.5 and Figure 5.6). While the palace complex is located on a relatively high location and would have had relatively good visibility, it did not have the highest elevation in the neighborhood, and its location was probably chosen with other factors in mind as well. Nevertheless, there is a moderate inverse correlation between household rank and the elevation of the top of the household platform, and therefore visibility (r = −.31, P = .10 ≈ .1). However, there is no statistical correlation between either household status category or household rank and the elevation of the base of the household platform (r = −.20, P = .30 > .1). This means that elites in this neighborhood had no systematic advantage when it came to choosing an elevated location for their household, but they compensated for this through investment in vertical architecture and became systematically more visible than their poorer counterparts. Indeed, there is a strong inverse correlation between household rank and platform height in the central neighborhood (r = −.58, P = .001 < .01).

The difference between the northern neighborhood and the rest of the site, with elites being slightly better able to obtain higher locations in the neighborhood landscape, but not building particularly high platforms, may indicate a difference between the elites of the northern neighborhood and their socio-economic peers elsewhere in Uxul. It is possible that the elite here played a more powerful role within their neighborhood, giving them a greater advantage when selecting a location for their household. It is also possible that the elite here played a different role within the neighborhood and therefore had different incentives when choosing their household location, with elevation and visibility being more important than in other neighborhoods. In any case, this advantage

The central-northern, northeastern, southeastern, and southwestern neighborhoods show much less clear links between household wealth and elevation within the landscape. This is true for both the elevation of the base of the platform and the top of the platform (see Figure 5.5 and Figure 5.6). Correlations between household rank and the elevation of the top of their platform relative to the neighborhood or for the elevation of the base of the household platform are statistically not significant (see Table 5.3). Remarkably, all four of these neighborhoods do show strong inverse correlations between household

Table 5.3. Table showing the statistical correlations between household rank and measures of height and elevation relative to the neighborhood Neighborhood

Correlations with household rank Elevation of platform base

P-value

Elevation of platform surface

P-value

Platform height

P-value

Site-wide

−0.053

0.476

−0.126*

0.091

−0.526***

0.001

Central

−0.196

0.298

−0.306*

0.100

−0.581***

0.001

Central-northern

−0.005

0.981

−0.201

0.325

−0.684***

0.001

Central-western

−0.356

0.147

−0.429*

0.076

−0.523**

0.026

Northeastern

−0.106

0.658

−0.249

0.290

−0.571***

0.009

Northern

0.018

0.927

−0.010

0.959

−0.17

0.377

Southeastern

0.041

0.869

−0.034

0.889

−0.474**

0.040

Southwestern

0.056

0.749

−0.53

0.761

−0.654***

0.001

Western Bajo

0.315

0.685

−0.013

0.987

−0.82

0.180

* Correlation is significant at the 0.1 level (2-tailed) ** Correlation is significant at the 0.05 level (2-tailed) *** Correlation is significant at the 0.01 level (2-tailed)

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Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands allowed them not to have to rely as much on vertical architecture to elevate them above poorer households in the neighborhood, meaning that they would have been able to invest more wealth and time for different goals, giving them an economic advantage over elites in the rest of the settlement. Furthermore, the pattern is consistent with the elite being more consistently visible within the neighborhood and symbolically “watching over” its members. Thus, while the exact mechanisms behind this pattern are not known, it may be an indication that the elite here was relatively powerful and may have played a political, organizational, and/or administrative role as leaders at the neighborhood level.

disproportionally invest in vertical architecture, elevating their houses to become high points in the landscape. Whether they were unable to obtain high locations to begin with because they did not belong to the elite when the household was established, because they did not have the necessary influence to obtain them, because the mechanisms behind land ownership were not related to wealth, or because they had different stronger incentives to build their house in locations that would have given them other advantages is not clear. However, the heightened visibility of the wealthiest households would have contributed to displaying, reinforcing, and legitimizing social and economic hierarchies within the settlement on a daily basis.

The western bajo group doesn’t include enough households to detect any statistically relevant trends. However, the western Bajo does show a strong trend of the wealthier households both situated on lower points in the landscape, and having a lower total elevation, making them less visible in the landscape than poorer households in the bajo group. There is, however, a strong trend of the wealthier households here investing more in the building of high platforms, though this did not translate to a higher visibility. Instead, it is possible that households that were situated on lower points were forced to invest more in vertical architecture in order to elevate their household further above grounds that were prone to flooding during the rainy seasons. However, with the bajo group including only four households, any patterns seen here cannot be verified statistically.

5.4. Mobility and social integration Space syntax approaches have suggested that there is a direct relationship between the accessibility of a household and the social integration of its members into the wider community (Hillier et al. 1993; Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 366). This is because spatial distance is inversely correlated with social interaction. Simply put, people are more likely to travel to and interact with people living in locations that they can reach easily and quickly, because such places are more accessible to them (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 365). That is to say that the more easily accessible a place is, the better it is integrated into the city-wide economy and its social life (Hillier et al. 1993; Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 366). The amount of movement to, through, and from a place is strongly correlated with its integration in the urban environment (Hillier et al. 1993; Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 366). Locations with a high degree of accessibility are more easily reached, and therefore are more likely to have many people travel through them, meaning that such locations are better integrated into a system as a whole (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 366). This means that the degree to which households can easily be reached (attractiveness) and can reach different locations (emissiveness) can serve as a proxy measure for the integration or segregation of groups of people into the settlement system, both economically and socially. In short, the better a household is connected to others in terms of walking times, the more likely its members are to have daily face-to-face interactions with others, the higher its social integration is likely to be (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014). Thus, patterns of household accessibility reveal patterns of social interaction and integration of people living throughout Uxul.

5.3.3. Discussion of household visibility Since for the purposes of this analysis, a full study of the visibility and inter-visibility of Uxul’s households was not conducted, we cannot investigate who was actually able to see each other from their own households. Thus, it is not possible to verify whether, as was the case in Copan (Richards-Rissetto 2017), elite households were better able to see each other than non-elite households, or whether poorer households tended to be more visually segregated from each other. The notion of the elite physically and figuratively “watching over” commoners therefore cannot be verified in this case. However, it is clear that elite households must have been more visible in the landscape in general. In this analysis, only the top of the household platform was considered, since this is the data that was available to us, but the buildings on top of these platforms must have exacerbated the visibility of elites, especially for those who invested in monumental household architecture with stone vaulted roofs. This means that regardless of the intervisibility between households, the elite would have been very present within the urban landscape, and people moving through the city would have constantly been reminded of their wealth and power.

Research in Copan, Honduras, has shown that elite households tend to be better connected to others than poorer households were (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014). Similarly, at Actuncan, Belize, elite residences were situated centrally at the site, and would thus have been better integrated into it (though walking times to other households were not calculated in this case) (LeCount et al. 2019). Elites at Coba, on the other hand, tended to be well connected to commoner households, although those

These results show that the elite clearly had the systematic incentives and necessary power to be visible within the urban landscape of Uxul. While they did not (or were unable to) systematically choose high locations, they did 144

Settlement Organization on the peripheries were not necessarily well connected to each other (Folan et al. 2009). Other research throughout the Maya area shows similarly that, even when walking times are not measured, elite households tend to have a central location that would have made the elite central to the social organization of the site (Arnauld, Michelet, and Nondédéo 2013, 471–72; Gillespie 2000b, 475–76; Lemonnier 2009, 89).

particularly well connected to the commoners around them (Folan et al. 2009, 68). Thus, if elite households occupy a better position within their neighborhood with regard to social integration, this may be a sign of their organizational responsibilities within the neighborhood. If elites are located near the center of the city, and thus have a relatively high level of social integration compared to those living on the peripheries, on the other hand, this may be related to their desire to be close to services and resources and general. This would be a sign of either their superior ability to secure beneficial locations for their households or of the economic advantage conferred by a central location. If neither of these is the case, then this would be an indication either of a lack of incentives for elites to prioritize social integration when choosing the location of their households or of their lack of power to do so. Furthermore, such a case would be consistent with either or both the non-royal elite not having important organizational and administrative roles at a lower level and/or with household status having evolved over time, so that initial settlers may not have had the economic and political advantage necessary to obtain an advantageous location for their households, but rather household status changing over time as wealth accumulated over the course of generations. In any case, the patterns observed reflect the social organization of the urban center.

There are multiple possible explanations for this pattern found in many Maya urban centers. The first is that the elite wanted to be well connected to all services and resources in a city, and since these are generally located centrally, a central location would be synonymous with better access. This goes in particular for public ceremonial centers, which are typically located in the center of Maya urban layouts, close to the palace, and where the highest elite may have performed special duties. Thus, the elite may have had an incentive to build their residence close to ceremonial centers, resulting in their preferential presence in the center of the city, leading in turn to a better social integration as a byproduct. It is also possible, however, that the elite did not choose to settle within the center of a city, but instead that those who lived near the center ended up becoming richer than those on the peripheries. This may be due to households located in the center generally being older, as the city grew outwards, and their members accumulating power based on heritage and lineage. It is also possible that people within the urban center had an economic advantage over people on the peripheries because they had to spend less time accessing the needed resources and services, and thus had more time left for other profitable activities, accumulating wealth more quickly. Additionally, the better social integration of those living in central places may have provided them with social and economic opportunities that led to the accumulation of both power and wealth.

Generally speaking, social inequality is related to social integration, as well as to access to elite- or state-sponsored events and services (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 154; Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 367; Smith 2015, 4–5). This means that elite groups are expected to be more integrated, reflecting their superior social status, than nonelites are (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 367). Thus, if this expectation is met, it should show in elites either residing in accessible locations, or in the accessibility of elite compounds increasing over time as they accumulated social status (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 367). Large differences in travel cost between different places within the settlement would then suggest that the urban landscape fostered inequality, while small differences would imply greater social equality between residents (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 367).

Another possible reason for elites to typically be better integrated socially is that they may have played a specific role within the organization of Maya cities that would have benefitted from good social integration. For example, it has been hypothesized that not only the king was responsible for the organization of the city, but that sub-royal elites also had responsibilities on either a lower level, smaller scale, or for specific aspects of city organization. Such organizational duties can range from administrative activities, dispute resolution, economic oversight, distribution of duties, oversight of public domains, commission of public works, etc. In this case, it would have been beneficial for this elite class to occupy central spaces within the area under their responsibility (either within the city center itself, or in a central location within their own neighborhood), in order to be able to efficiently fulfill their duties, be easily accessible by the people under their responsibility, and be visible as a leader and powerful entity. The spatial patterns observed in Coba, for example, seem to conform to such an organization, with elites that were dispersed on the periphery being

5.4.1. Social integration and wealth In order to verify if social integration was higher for elites than for poorer households at Uxul, the same way it was at for example Copan (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014), walking times from each household to all other households of Uxul were calculated using ESRI© ArcGIS (10) software. This way, walking times from each individual household to all other households (emissiveness), as well as walking times from all households to each individual household (attractiveness) are available. Thus, the correlation between wealth and social integration as measured through walking times can be studied. However, no significant correlation is found between household 145

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands rank and the ability to reach other households (r = .02, P = .85 > .1). The same is true for how easily wealthier households were reached, with no correlation between household rank and average attractiveness (r = .01, P = .86 > .1). The average of the attractiveness and emissiveness values corresponds to a general social integration value (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014), and the absence of a correlation between household rank and this average (r = .01, P = .86 > .1) confirms that wealthier households in Uxul had no systematic advantage in their degree of social integration as compared to poorer ones (see also Figure 5.8 and Figure 5.9). The very rich category II households clearly had no advantages over poorer category III and IV households in terms of social integration, and actually had to walk slightly longer to reach others and were somewhat less accessible on average (see Table 5.4), even though this is not reflected when looking only at rank.

correlation between household rank and closeness (r = −.05, P = .48 > .1), meaning that it was not easier for the inhabitants of wealthier households to reach other households than it was for poorer people. The measure of betweenness of a node is defined as the number of times a node acts as a bridge on the shortest path between two other nodes, meaning that a node with high betweenness can be seen as an important waypoint on the connections between other nodes (Weidele and Brughmans 2015, 34). This means that people would have been more likely to pass by households with a high measure of betweenness when moving through Uxul from one household on their way to another. In Copan, for example, it was found that lower-status people typically moved past elite households when they were traveling through the site (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 370–72). This would have reinforced and supported the legitimization of the status of elites, as their households were adorned with ornate sculpture, atop high platforms, conspicuously displaying status, wealth, and prestige (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 372). Thus, a high measure of betweenness can serve as a legitimization tool in the same way as high degrees of visibility did, as it increased the number of people who were able to see a household, as well as the number of times they were likely to see it in their daily life. However, contrary to measures of visibility, there was no statistically significant correlation between household rank and its betweenness based on the social network generated from walking times between households (r = .08, P = .27 > .1). This means

The use of social network analysis for the identification of neighborhoods in Uxul also provides additional measures for mobility and social integration, as it allows for the computation of the centrality measures of closeness and betweenness for each household. The closeness of a node is defined as the inverted sum of the node’s shortest paths to all other nodes in the network, meaning that nodes with a high degree of closeness can reach all other nodes of the network in fewer steps than nodes with a low closeness measure (Weidele and Brughmans 2015, 34). Thus, this is a different way of measuring social integration, that complements the use of mere walking times. Similar to walking times between households, there is no statistical

Figure 5.8. Scatter plot showing the relationship between household rank and social integration.

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Figure 5.9. Graph showing the differences in social integration values for different status categories. Table 5.4. Average walking times (in seconds) to and from other households of each status category Site-wide

Within the neighborhood

Status

To all other households (emissiveness)

From all other households (attractiveness)

To other households in the neighborhood (emissiveness)

From other households in the neighborhood (attractiveness)

To the nearest neighbor

I

661

665

370

373

157

II

945

946

316

322

88

III

914

912

299

298

68

IV

903

904

298

301

62

Total

907

907

300

303

66

surrounding them than poorer households did. While this would have given wealthier households an economic advantage when it came to land use for, for example, horticulture and resource extraction and control, it would also have given them a disadvantage in social integration, as they would have been less likely to interact with others face-to-face on a day-to-day basis.

that there is no indication that people moving through Uxul would have passed by elite households more often than poorer ones. However, when instead of looking at overall social integration into the settlement, walking distance to the nearest neighbor is considered, there is a moderate inverse correlation with household rank (r = −.14, P = .06 < .1). This means that wealthier households tended to be slightly more isolated than poorer ones, as they had to walk further in order to reach their nearest neighbor. This would have contributed to their overall slightly lower social integration. This is clearly confirmed when looking at average walking time to the nearest neighbor for the different status categories (see Table 5.4 and Figure 5.10), with the palace complex and wealthy category II households living on average further away from their neighbors than their poorer counterparts. This may be related to land tenure, as it would be unsurprising if wealthier households controlled larger areas of land

The slightly higher average degree of social integration of poorer category IV households, even if it was merely a byproduct of other concerns and not by explicit design, would have made daily life somewhat easier for poor people. At the very least, rich category II and III households did not have a systematically significant advantage over poorer category IV households when it comes to social integration within Uxul. Only the category I palace complex had a clear and significant average advantage over the other categories, as it was centrally located and therefore both relatively easy for its members to reach others and to be reached by others. In fact, the palace complex K had the 147

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 5.10. Graph showing walking times to the nearest neighbor (in seconds) for different status categories.

lowest average emissiveness and attractiveness of all the households of Uxul, making it the best socially integrated into the city as a whole. Additionally, it had among the highest measures of both closeness and betweenness, meaning that it was easy for its members to reach other households, and that members of other households were very likely to pass by and see the palace. It is probable that this was by design, as the palace was located in a central place, and the city organized itself around it. Otherwise, the absence of correlation between social integration and rank suggests that the elite did not have the incentives and/ or means to choose the location of their households based on advantages related to social integration.

households of any other rank. The trend seen in Copan, however, is not visible here, as it does not seem to have been easier for elite category II households to reach other category II households than it was for poor category IV households to reach other category IV households. In fact, rich category II households were the least well internally integrated category at Uxul, though the difference. Furthermore, wealthy category II households were not better connected on average to other rich households than to poorer households, nor were poor category IV households better connected to wealthy households than to households with which they shared their rank. Thus, at Uxul, the elite does not seem to have formed a particularly tightly integrated community, and poorer households were not more dispersed on the peripheries than anyone else. Figure 5.11 shows that category III and IV households were slightly better integrated, on average, both internally and with other status categories than the richer category II households. The latter was both the least well internally integrated category, and the least well connected to households of different statuses. The differences once again are negligible, however, but they do confirm that the richest households were certainly not better off than the poorest in terms of the social integration with either other people of the same wealth level or of different economic status.

At Copan, it was found that not only were elite households better connected to others in general, they also formed a much closer internally integrated group than poorer people (Richards-Rissetto 2010, 372). That is to say that rich people tended to live close to other rich people, while poorer people lived much more dispersed on the peripheries. It not only took less time, on average, for everybody to reach wealthy houses than to reach poor houses, it also took much shorter for the rich to reach other rich people than for poor people to reach other poor people. Additionally, it was easier for the rich to reach the poor than it was for the poor to reach other poor households. This is not the case in Uxul, however (see Figure 5.11). The category I palace complex, being centrally located, has the lowest average walking times to households of all other ranks, although there is little to no difference in how long it would have taken to walk from the palace to category II, III, and IV households. Additionally, it was easier on average for all categories to reach the palace complex than to reach

5.4.2. Social integration and neighborhoods These numbers show that, apart from the royal palace, elite households were not situated in more advantageous locations than poorer ones with regard to social integration within the site as a whole. However, as mentioned before, it is possible that non-royal elites may 148

Settlement Organization

Figure 5.11. Graph showing average walking times for members of each wealth category to each other.

have played important administrative and organizational roles at a lower level, for example within the different neighborhoods. If this was the case, then one would expect the richest households to be better socially integrated within their own neighborhood rather than within the site as a whole. This was the case for example in Coba, where elite households served as focal nodes for neighborhoods, as they were located centrally within household clusters and may have served as locations for neighborhoodwide events (Hutson 2016, 80). Similarly, in La Joyanca, household clusters formed around monumental compounds in a process of nucleation (Hutson 2016, 80– 81; Lemonnier 2012, 194). At Xunantunich, each cluster was organized around the largest residential compound located at its center, which showed evidence of hosting large scale feasts, presumably meant for the entire neighborhood, thereby serving as focal nodes (Hutson 2016, 84; Yaeger 2000). However, in Uxul, no significant correlation was found between household rank and the ability to reach other members of the same neighborhood (r = −.06, P = .45 > .1) or to be reached by them (r = −.07, P = .34 > .1). The average of the attractiveness and emissiveness within the neighborhood similarly shows no correlation with household rank (r = −.06, P = .45 > .1), showing that richer households were not systematically better socially integrated into their own neighborhoods than poorer people were.

others within their own neighborhood than it did for category III or category IV. Similarly, it was not easier for other members of a neighborhood to reach wealthy category II households than to reach poorer category III or IV ones. It should be noted that, contrary to its social integration into the settlement as a whole, the category I palace complex K actually had a worse average social integration into its own neighborhood than other status categories. This may indicate that the palace complex played an important social role within the settlement as a whole, but not in the neighborhood it was a part of. In any case, the analysis of attractiveness and emissiveness within the neighborhood confirms that the elite did not have the necessary incentive and/or means to choose their household location based on social integration, even within the context of their own neighborhood. This also reinforces the notion that, even if the slightly better social integration of poorer households into their neighborhood did not arise by design or explicit choice, it would have influenced their daily lives, as it was easier for them to interact with others at the local level. While there is no clear difference between the social integration of households of different ranks, a difference can be seen between the different neighborhoods in how accessible their households were. Indeed, as can be seen in Figure 5.12, the central neighborhoods are, unsurprisingly, on average much better integrated into the social organization of the city as a whole. The southeastern, southwestern, and especially the northern neighborhoods are much less well integrated into the settlement, as their

When looking at average attractiveness and emissiveness within the neighborhood for households of different categories, the lack of an advantage for the richest ones is apparent (see Table 5.4 above). It took longer on average, for members of category II households to reach 149

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 5.12. Graph showing average walking times (in seconds) to and from all households (average of attractiveness and emissiveness) in the different neighborhoods.

patterns of who people were most likely to interact with, and how well connected they were to those closest to them. As such, accessibility at the neighborhood level may reveal further patterns of social integration. As it turns out, there are differences between neighborhoods in how well their members were connected to each other (see Figure 5.13). Interestingly, the neighborhoods that were worst integrated into the settlement as a whole were also the worst socially integrated internally. Both the northern and the southwestern neighborhoods were significantly worse internally integrated than the more central neighborhoods. Indeed, the neighborhoods that were among the best integrated into the settlement, i.e. the central, central-northern, and central-western neighborhoods, were also among the best integrated internally. The only neighborhoods that don’t seem to follow this general trend are the southeastern and northeastern neighborhoods, which were averagely integrated into the settlement as a whole, but among the best socially integrated internally.

members had to walk further on average to reach others and were less easily accessible. Additionally, the households of the western bajo are relatively isolated, as its members would have had to walk up the steep slope of the meseta in order to reach others. The differences in accessibility for different neighborhoods are in all likelihood simply due to the inevitable structure of a city large enough to have central and peripheral neighborhoods, where centrally-located places are more easily reached than the periphery, and it is unlikely that such differences would have been clearly planned or served an explicit and concrete purpose. However, these differences would have had clear consequences for the people living in these different neighborhoods. Those living in peripheral neighborhoods would either have had to spend far more time walking in order to experience the same social integration as people from the more centrally located neighborhoods, or would simply be less well socially integrated. Thus, being well socially integrated and benefitting from the advantages that would entail (more social connections, more opportunities for the accumulation of social and political power, more opportunities for economic relationships, better general well-being, etc.) would either be costlier for people living in the peripheral neighborhoods, or impossible for their members to enjoy to the same extent as more centrally located people.

It should be noted, however, that the relatively low degree of internal social integration in the southwestern neighborhood may simply be the result of its large size. The fact that it was larger than any of the other neighborhoods also would have led to longer average walking times from any of the households to all other households in the neighborhood. The same explanation is not sufficient to explain further patterns of social integration in the neighborhoods, as there is no significant difference in internal social integration between the smaller and larger neighborhoods. Additionally, the western bajo, which only contains 4 households, was actually the worst internally

However, it is unlikely that anyone, even those located the most centrally, would have had much contact with the Uxul population in its entirety. A more revealing measure of social integration may therefore be to study 150

Settlement Organization

Figure 5.13. Graph showing average walking times (in seconds) to and from households within the neighborhood (average of attractiveness and emissiveness) for each neighborhood.

integrated group of all. However, the fact that the relatively poor internal social integration of the southwestern neighborhood can be explained by its size, and that the poor integration of the northern neighborhood seems to be driven by a small number of outliers, may indicate that the differences between the neighborhoods were actually less significant than they appear.

significantly. Overall, the apparent difference between the central neighborhoods on the one hand, and the peripheral ones on the other, disappears when using walking times to the nearest neighbor as a measure of overall internal social integration within neighborhoods. Interestingly, however, this also means that Uxul does not follow the commonly observed urban pattern of settlement density decreasing with distance from the site core (Hutson 2016, 78).

Indeed, when instead of considering average social integration of households into their neighborhood using walking times to all other households within the neighborhood, which is subject to be affected by the size of the individual neighborhood, we look at walking times to the nearest neighbor, a different pattern becomes apparent (see Figure 5.14). This measure shows how close to each other households were on average within the neighborhood, removing its size as a factor. Although there is some variation between the neighborhoods, the differences are less marked and fall within roughly the same range for all neighborhoods except the western bajo. In particular, using the nearest neighbor as a measure, it is apparent that households in the northern neighborhood were very closely connected to their neighbors, even though it showed one of the lowest overall measures of internal social integration. Similarly, households in the southwestern neighborhood did not have a significantly worse connection to their neighbors than elsewhere on the site. The central-northern neighborhood is still the best internally connected neighborhood using this measure, as it was when using a neighborhood-wide internal social integration measure. Households in the northeastern neighborhood seem to have been somewhat worse off when it came to reaching their immediate neighbors, but not

There are also differences between the neighborhoods in how well the elite were integrated into their own neighborhood compared to poorer people. Figure 5.15 shows that rich category II and III households were particularly badly integrated into their neighborhood in the central-western, southeastern, and southwestern neighborhoods, as well as in the western bajo. The wealthy category II households fared much better, however, in the central-northern, northern, and northeastern neighborhoods relative to their poorer counterparts. Even in those neighborhoods where the richer households were relatively well integrated, however, differences with average walking times for the poorer category IV households were minimal and not necessarily to the benefit of the elite, and the relatively rich category III households were worse off except in the northeastern neighborhood. In fact, the social integration of these rich households is relatively good only compared to their counterparts in other neighborhoods, but they do not correspond to statistically significant advantages over poorer people within their own neighborhoods: none of these neighborhoods show a significant positive correlation between household rank and social integration within the neighborhood (see Table 5.5). They also, however, 151

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 5.14. Graph showing walking times (in seconds) to a household’s nearest neighbor for each neighborhood.

Figure 5.15. Graph showing average walking times (in seconds) to and from households within the neighborhood (average between attractiveness and emissiveness) for each wealth category.

show no significant inverse correlation between rank and attractiveness (meaning that richer households were not at a disadvantage here), while the central-western (r = −.40,

P = .097 < .1) and southeastern (r = −.45, P = .052 < .1) neighborhoods do show moderate inverse correlations. While the southwestern neighborhood shows no such 152

Settlement Organization Table 5.5. Table showing the statistical correlations between household rank and social integration measures for the different neighborhoods Neighborhood Site-wide Central Central-northern Central-western Northeastern Northern

Correlations with household rank Social integration overall 0.014

P-value

Social integration within P-value the neighborhood

0.850

−0.064

0.393

Walking time to the nearest neighbor −0.140*

P-value 0.060

−0.017

0.929

−0.131

0.492

−0.437**

0.016

0.258

0.203

−0.094

0.648

−0.381*

0.055

0.038

0.881

−0.404*

0.097

−0.088

0.727

−0.046

0.847

−0.225

0.340

−0.118

0.621

0.109

0.572

0.220

0.252

0.034

0.863

Southeastern

−0.032

0.897

−0.451*

0.052

−0.220

0.364

Southwestern

−0.152

0.384

−0.254

0.141

−0.136

0.436

Western Bajo

−0.887

0.113

−0.742

0.528

0.831

0.169

* Correlation is significant at the 0.1 level (2-tailed) ** Correlation is significant at the 0.05 level (2-tailed) *** Correlation is significant at the 0.01 level (2-tailed)

statistical correlation between household rank and social integration into the neighborhood (r = −.25, P = .14 > .1), it does show a significant moderate correlation between household rank and closeness within the neighborhood (r = .29, P = .09 < .1), meaning that wealthier households were systematically less easy to reach than their poorer counterparts. The only neighborhood, on the other hand, that shows a positive correlation is the northern neighborhood (r = .22, P = .25 > .1), and although it is not statistically significant, the fact that it is different from all the other neighborhoods is remarkable. A similar positive correlation, although not statistically significant, for the northern neighborhood, when all other neighborhoods show an opposite trend, is seen for household rank and closeness within the neighborhood (r = −.23, P = .24 > .1). This reinforces the pattern that elite households in the northern neighborhood were generally better off in terms of an advantage over poorer households in their social integration into the neighborhood, than elites in other neighborhoods.

northern neighborhood in particular, and central-northern and northeastern neighborhoods to some extent. These are also the neighborhoods in which the rich households had the biggest relative advantage when it comes to social integration within the neighborhood (see above). In the northern neighborhood, it was not only easier for rich people to reach and be reached by all other households, rich category II households were also better connected to each other than categories III and IV households were. In the northern neighborhood, the category III households were also better connected to each other than the category IV households were, while in the centralnorthern and northeastern neighborhoods the differences between category III and IV households were negligible. In all three, however, wealthy category II households and somewhat less wealthy category III households were better connected to each other than category IV households were. Thus, in the neighborhoods where the elite had a relatively high degree of average social integration, the elite were also better connected to their socio-economic peers, while poorer people were more dispersed and had to walk further to interact with other poor people. This reinforces the difference observed in the role and status of the elite in these northern and northeastern peripheral neighborhoods, as well as in the central-northern one, versus the central and southern neighborhoods.

It should be noted that these patterns are not driven by differences between the neighborhoods in relative elevation of the richest households: in both the northern and northeastern neighborhoods, rich category II households had higher platform elevations on average than other members of the neighborhood. The fact that in these neighborhoods people had to walk uphill to reach the richest households, thus diminishing their attractiveness, but that those rich households were still relatively well integrated into the neighborhood, reinforces the advantage these elites had with regard to social integration into their own neighborhood.

Although the difference between the neighborhoods located in the northern part of the city on the one hand, and the central and southern parts on the other is striking, there is not enough data to definitively explain the pattern, especially taking into account that the data we have on the northern and northeastern neighborhoods may be less complete than that on the central neighborhoods, because of where the edges of the mapping area are located. Still, the relative advantage in social integration within the neighborhood combined with the highest elites forming a more closely connected community with the other elites in the neighborhood, in particular for the northern

Interestingly, following the pattern for Uxul as a whole, in most of the neighborhoods, the rich category II and III households do not form more closely internally connected communities within the neighborhood than poorer category IV households did (see Figure 5.16). The exceptions are the 153

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 5.16. Graph showing average walking times for members of each wealth category to each other within each of the main neighborhoods.

154

Settlement Organization neighborhood, does suggest a difference in the organization of the neighborhood and the role elites played in it.

of specific members of the family, be it based on internal hierarchies, gender roles, age-related roles, turn-based responsibilities, or other systems of division of labor. Still, water would have been a vital and frequent concern of the household, and its procurement would have been a crucial part of daily life within Uxul, in particular during the dry seasons. The time it would have taken people to walk to the nearest water source and back, would thus have had a major impact on daily household life, as those living further from it would have had less time left for other daily activities. The aguadas would also have been meeting spots where people from all over the settlement would have met, meaning that they would have played a crucial role not only in providing resources, but also in the social and economic life of Uxul. Those living closest to the water reservoirs may therefore have been better socially connected on average, if only by virtue of their increased potential for daily interactions with people from all over the settlement. Furthermore, those living close to a water source may have been able to perform different activities requiring more water.

5.5. Mobility and access to resources 5.5.1. Mobility and water: access to the aguadas Because Uxul is located within the Central Maya Lowlands, an area known for the absence of permanent rivers or water sources, access to water year-round would have been a major concern for its population. In order to deal with this, and provide the urban center with sufficient water even during the dry period, the people of Uxul constructed two large water reservoirs, the eastern and the western aguadas, that were made impermeable in order to provide a reliable and permanent source of water (Seefeld 2013b). The two aguadas were not established at the same time in Uxul, however. It seems that the western aguada was originally a natural feature of the landscape, and may have been a factor in the establishment of the settlement of Uxul next to it. During the first half of the Late Classic period, the aguada was modified by the inhabitants of Uxul, who increased its capacity, constructed a canal to channel rainwater to it, and decreased water seepage using a stone pavement (Seefeld 2013b, 65). The eastern aguada, on the other hand, seems to have been an entirely artificial creation, dug into the bedrock, lined with a ceramic mosaic, limestone slabs, and a stucco layer to make it impermeable, included a filtration wall, and was established during the second half of the Late Classic, likely to deal with increased population pressures and/or diminishing rainfall (Seefeld 2013b, 68). While this would have been an effective way to provision the population with the water they needed, this means that in particular during the dry season, water was scarce, and people would have had to make frequent trips to one of the water reservoirs in order to obtain the precious resource.

Indeed, the western aguada is situated in the bajo, while the eastern aguada was constructed on a low point on the meseta, within the urbanized area. The later construction of the eastern aguada within the settlement core on top of the meseta points to its specific goal of provisioning the people of Uxul with water for their daily domestic needs. The connection between the eastern aguada and the city core through a sacbe confirms its integration into the settlement system and the important role it played (Seefeld 2013b, 68). It is also possible, then, that the reduced strain on the western aguada freed up water for agricultural goals (such as irrigation of agricultural lands situated in the bajo), thus also permitting a higher food production for the city’s growing population. Thus, it is probable that while the eastern aguada was conceived entirely for urban use (drinking water, cleaning, cooking, household gardens, household activities, etc.), the western had a dual role for both domestic and agricultural purposes.

It is unclear to what extent people would have been able to store large quantities of water within the household. The chultunes that have been excavated, although that number is limited and may therefore not be representative, don’t show any sign of having been used for water storage (see 5.5.3 Mobility and storage: access to chultunes). They weren’t made impermeable, and their shapes suggest their use for storage of other goods, or other functions. Furthermore, they don’t seem to have been constructed in natural low points of the landscape, and would not have accumulated water through rainfall and water flow during the rainy season. This means that at least in some cases, if not all, the only water people would have had access to within the household would have been stored in vessels, and therefore would have been limited. It is reasonable to assume, then, that people would have had to walk to one of the aguadas on a daily or near-daily basis in order to get enough water for the household.

The eastern aguada would have been capable of containing approximately 10 000 m3 of water, while the western aguada was somewhat larger (Seefeld 2013b, 76). This means that each of the aguadas on its own would have been very largely sufficient for a minimum subsistence level of 7.5 liters of water a day per person (for household use, not including agricultural needs) (following guidelines by the World Health Organization 2011) for the estimated 5000– 7000 inhabitants of Uxul at its largest during the Late Classic period over a four-month dry season (4500–6300 m3 of water needed), assuming that they would have been filled to capacity during the rainy season. This would have allowed for both a less restrictive use of water beyond mere subsistence-level use, as well as for some margin in the event of a particularly long dry season or failing rains, provided water levels were able to get sufficiently high during rainy seasons, water seepage was minimal, and a draught was not too prolonged. A more typical use

This does not mean that everybody had to walk to the aguadas every day, as it would likely have been the task

155

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands of 20 liters a day per person (World Health Organization 2011) over a four-month dry season, however, would have necessitated 12 000 to 16 800 m3. So each of the aguadas on its own would have been capable of providing water for household needs during the dry seasons for the entire population of Uxul, though at low levels of water use and with little to no margin of error. Thus, the building of a second water reservoir during the Late Classic would have added much more security to a fragile equilibrium, as well as allowing for more flexible use of the water beyond mere subsistence. It is likely that the earlier western aguada was originally intended mainly for urban use, but that when the eastern one was constructed as a response to population pressures, its function may have changed to fulfill more agricultural functions as well.

incentive than the rich to live close to the aguadas as they would have had to travel the distance themselves. It is also likely that household activities and specialization would have played a role in the choice of household location, as some activities require more water than others, and thus for households engaging in such specialization a location close to water would have been crucial. Such concerns should have effects on the distribution of households with regard to the water sources of Uxul, and depending on which were stronger would have created different patterns of access. While questions of cause and effect are hard to answer (did rich people choose to live close to water or did people profit from their proximity to it? did people engaging in specialized activities requiring much water flock to the aguadas or did their proximity to water allow them to specialize in such activities?), patterns of access to the two only permanent water sources in Uxul may tell us more about the dynamics that were responsible for them.

5.5.1.1. Wealth and access to the aguadas Patterns in walking times to the nearest aguada can reveal social dynamics within Uxul. Indeed, it might be reasonable to assume that the elite population of Uxul would have been able to obtain advantageous locations for their household, where its members would not have had to spend much time in order to obtain water on a daily basis during the dry season, and thus save more time for other activities. On the other hand, it is also possible that those living close to a water source would have accumulated more wealth over time because they would have been able to spend the time gained on more economically profitable activities. It is also possible, however, that elite households were not as concerned with their proximity to a water source, as they may have had servants to fetch water, and therefore would not have lost time themselves on the daily journey. Poorer people may thus actually have had more

In order to determine whether wealth influenced household location with regard to access to water, I looked for a correlation between household rank (based on construction volume calculations) and walking times to the nearest aguada (see Figure 5.17). However, the scatter plot shows no significant correlation between household wealth and access to a permanent water source (r = .10, P = .89 > .1). In fact, when looking at average walking times for the different status categories (see Figure 5.18 and Table 5.6), wealthy status II households had to spend the longest time walking to a water source, while poorer categories III and IV households were best off on average except only for the centrally located palace (category I). This pattern follows observations from elsewhere in the Maya area showing that poorer households tended to be

Figure 5.17. Scatter plot showing the relationship between household rank and walking time to the nearest aguada.

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Settlement Organization

Figure 5.18. Graph showing differences in walking times to the nearest aguada between households of different status categories. Table 5.6. Access to the aguadas for the households of each status category (walking times are in seconds) Status

Walking time to the nearest aguada

Walking time back from the nearest aguada

Walking time to the western aguada

Walking time to the eastern aguada

Households closest to the western aguada

Households closest to the eastern aguada

I

429

519

525

II

659

698

805

492

0 (0%)

1 (100%)

881

11 (69%)

5 (31%)

III

575

649

733

791

14 (56%)

11 (44%)

IV

597

652

826

745

71 (51%)

68 (47%)

Total

599

655

810

762

96 (53%)

85 (47 %)

more concerned with their proximity to water than richer households were (LeCount et al. 2019, 254), though it is not statistically significant in the case of Uxul. This was not the case in every Classic Maya city, however, as at Copan, on the contrary, richer people were systematically able to obtain household locations that were close to the seasonal water reservoirs (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 370).

the aguadas were placed on natural low points in the landscape to allow water to flow to them. However, as for the walk to the aguada, there is no significant correlation between rank and walking times from the nearest aguada (r = .003, P = .97 > .1). Because the eastern aguada was established at a relatively late date during the Late Classic period, after the establishment of all households for which a chronology is known, it is expected that many of the elite households may not have had easier access to it if the household was established before the existence of the aguada. Instead, when establishing their households, households would have been able to take only the location of the western aguada into account. Indeed, there is a weak correlation between household rank and walking time to the western aguada (r = .15, P = .046 < .05), as well as for walking time back from the aguada (r = .18, P = .02 < .05). This means that at the time of the establishment of the household, wealthier people tended to have slightly better systematic access to the only permanent water source at

It is worth noting that this pattern does not change when considering the journey back from the aguadas to the households. After all, walking times back from the water source would have been as important for household location, if not more, as walking times to them. Since the shortest path to a destination is not always the same as the shortest path back, it is important to consider the way back as well, in particular in the case of water sources, considering the added difficulty of walking with heavy loads of water. Walking times back from the aguadas are, as expected, longer on average (655 seconds on average, vs. 599 seconds on the way to the nearest aguada) since 157

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Uxul. This is confirmed by the fact that wealthy category II households were more likely to be located closer to the western aguada than to the eastern one as compared to the poorer households (see Table 5.6).

However, significant correlations are either weak or nonexistent, and more complex patterns need to be considered in order to explain the lack of advantage for wealthy households in terms of their access to the water reservoirs. This does show, however, that in general either being close to water was not a major concern for wealthy households, or that they did not have the necessary ability to secure a good location.

However, the correlation is weak, and no significant advantage is detected for wealthy category II households when looking at average walking times for the different status categories (see Table 5.6). In fact, a more detailed consideration of the data reveals that the weak correlation for the site as a whole is driven by a significant correlation only in the northern neighborhood, and is not detected elsewhere in the settlement (for a more detailed discussion see 5.5.1.2 Neighborhoods and access to the aguadas below). When this neighborhood is excluded, no statistically significant correlation between rank and access to the western aguada remains (r = .05, P = .52 > .1), meaning that except in the north of the site, richer households had no advantage in their household location with regard to access to the aguada that was present at the time of their establishment.

5.5.1.2. Neighborhoods and access to the aguadas While patterns of access to the aguadas as related to wealth are unclear for the settlement as a whole, there are significant differences in access to a water source between neighborhoods (see Figure 5.19 and Table 5.7). People living in the northeastern neighborhood in particular had a definite advantage in their access to water, due to their proximity to the eastern aguada. Similarly, people living in the western bajo also had very easy access to water, due to their close proximity to the western one. The southwestern neighborhood was worst off in their access to water, as they had to walk for significantly longer periods of time on average to reach the nearest aguada. This, combined with the fact that wealth was not a major factor in access to water, and poor households even had relatively advantageous locations, may support the hypothesis that household location with regard to water access had something to do with household occupation and specialization. It is possible, for example, that many

The present pattern is consistent with the hypothesis that richer households may have been able to delegate the task of getting water to servants or employees, and therefore did not need to walk the large distances themselves. Poorer households, who would probably not have had this ability, actually had small but systematic advantages when it came to their walking times to and from the nearest aguada.

Figure 5.19. Graph showing differences in walking times to the nearest aguada between the different wealth categories in each neighborhood.

158

Settlement Organization Table 5.7. Table showing the access of households in the different neighborhoods to the aguadas (walking times are in seconds). Average walking time to the nearest aguada

Average walking time to the western aguada

Households closest to the western aguada

Average walking time to the eastern aguada

Households closest to the eastern aguada

Central

587

Central-northern

340

858

0 (0%)

587

30 (100%)

369

21 (81%)

539

5 (19%)

Central-western

561

563

17 (94%)

815

1 (6%)

Northeastern

195

969

0 (0%)

195

20 (100%)

Northern

608

719

19 (66%)

759

10 (34%)

Southeastern

723

1279

0 (0%)

723

19 (100%)

Southwestern

1010

1010

35 (100%)

1366

0 (0%)

Neighborhood

Western Bajo

312

312

4 (100%)

1047

0 (0%)

Stie-wide

599

810

96 (53 %)

762

85 (47%)

households in the northeastern neighborhood engaged in activities that necessitated a relatively large amount of water. It is also likely that people living in the western bajo, on the border of the western aguada, would have engaged in activities related to either the maintaining of the water supply, irrigation, or to a specific specialization that required large quantities of water, a hypothesis that is reinforced by their location outside of the main meseta the urban core is located on, pointing to a specific role these people may have played.

seems to have been no particular link between the elite in this neighborhood and the management of the water reservoir. Instead, the aguada is overseen by one of the ceremonial centers (R), and linked to ceremonial center D, the palace complex K, and the center of the site through a sacbe. Thus, it is likely that rather than being overseen by the elite of the neighborhood, the management of the aguada was linked to the ceremonial authority of complex R as well as to the supervision of the royal palace. However, walking times to the nearest aguada reflect conditions as they were during the Late Classic period, rather than patterns of access as they were at the time households were established. Therefore, in order to study patterns of choice of household location with regard to access to a permanent water source, access to the western aguada needs to be studied. Only the northern neighborhood shows a significant moderate correlation between household rank and access to the western aguada, both in walking times there (r = .31, P = .10 ≈ .1) and back (r = .343, P = .07 < .1) (see also Table 5.8 and Figure 5.20). In the central, central-western, and southeastern neighborhoods the wealthiest category II (and category I palace complex in the case of the central neighborhood) did have a slight advantage in their access to the western aguada (see Figure 5.20), although this pattern does not extend to the slightly less wealthy category III households, and this slight advantage for the wealthiest does not translate into a significant correlation between household rank and walking times (see Table 5.8). In the northeastern and southwestern neighborhoods, as well as in the western bajo, on the other hand, the wealthy category II households actually had a marked disadvantage in their household location with regard to access to the western aguada, though this also does not translate into significant inverse correlations with household rank. It should be noted that there is no pattern of elites having an advantage in their household location with regard to access to a permanent water source in neighborhoods that had worse access to the western aguada, where a relative advantage would arguably have been more significant than for those living close to the water reservoir.

In none of the neighborhoods, whether their overall access to water was easy or difficult, did the richer households have significant advantages in their access to the aguada over the poorer households within their own neighborhood. In some neighborhoods, such as the central-northern, northeastern, and southwestern neighborhoods, wealthy category II and III households actually tended to be slightly worse off than poorer category IV households in their access to water. The differences, however, are minimal and not statistically significant (see Table 5.8). There is therefore no clear indication that the elites, in any of the neighborhoods, had any special roles that led them to be able to choose or prefer locations in relative proximity to the aguadas (as compared to other members of the neighborhood) or even control over the access to them. The lack of an advantage in their access to water for elites living in the northeastern neighborhood is particularly worthy of note. It is probable that, since water was a scarce resource at Uxul, there was some kind of regulator system in place to ration the water and ensure that everyone received their fair share, in particular during the dry seasons. It would not be surprising, then, that specific elites were in charge of such rationing, meaning that it would likely have been important for them to live close to the aguada to facilitate their supervision of it, and reinforce and legitimize their power over the water. However, in the northeastern neighborhood, where the eastern aguada was located, this does not seem to have been the case, as the only category II household was located further away from it than 9 of the poorer category IV households. Thus, there 159

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Table 5.8. Table showing the statistical correlations between household rank and access to the aguadas for the different neighborhoods Neighborhood

Correlations with household rank P-value

Walking time to the eastern aguada

P-value

0.148**

0.046

–0.066

0.375

0.150

0.021

0.914

0.184

0.331

0.331

–0.115

0.577

0.167

0.415

Walking time to the nearest aguada

P-value

Site-wide

0.100

0.894

Central

0.178

Central-northern

0.184

Central-western

Walking time to the western aguada

0.008

0.967

–0.112

0.657

0.213

0.395

Northeastern

–0.097

0.702

–0.070

0.770

–0.245

0.297

Northern

–0.245

0.297

0.100

–0.388**

0.037

0.143

0.461

–0.043

0.862

0.116

0.636

Southwestern

0.116

0.636

–0.049

0.779

–0.131

0.452

Western Bajo

–0.049

0.779

–0.896

0.104

–0.888

0.112

Southeastern

0.308*

* Correlation is significant at the 0.1 level (2-tailed) ** Correlation is significant at the 0.05 level (2-tailed) *** Correlation is significant at the 0.01 level (2-tailed)

Figure 5.20. Graph showing differences in walking times to the western aguada between the different wealth categories in each neighborhood.

It is possible that the relative advantage of the wealthiest households in the northern neighborhood, as compared to those in other neighborhoods, is an indication of their role or power within the neighborhood. It is possible for example that elites in the northern neighborhood were better able than their peers living in other neighborhoods to obtain advantageous locations for their household, at least with regard to their access to water. It is also possible that elites here had a special role with regard to water, which

made their access to it more important than for poorer households in the neighborhood. Further analysis of other lines of evidence is needed, however, in order to better understand the relative advantage of elites in the northern neighborhood as compared to elites elsewhere in Uxul. There are also clear differences in access to each of the two aguadas. Overall access to the two aguadas was relatively equal, with the western aguada being closest 160

Settlement Organization and walking time to the western aguada. However, when looking in more detail at the distribution of the category II households that had better access to the western aguada, it is clear that this overrepresentation is seen only in the northern neighborhood, with significantly more category II (100%) and III (75%) households being located closer to the western aguada than poorer category IV households (61%). None of the other neighborhoods show such a clear trend in an advantage for wealthier category households over poorer ones in their access to the western aguada. In all other neighborhoods, easiest access to the western and eastern aguada is distributed proportionally for each status category. The advantage of the richest households in their access to the western aguada, i.e. the only permanent source of water at the time of the establishment of the neighborhood’s households, in the northern neighborhoods is consistent with the pattern noted above suggesting that wealthier households in the northern neighborhoods may have had more power to choose an advantageous location for their household with regard to water provisioning as compared to their poorer neighbors, as well to their socioeconomic peers elsewhere at the site.

to a slightly larger proportion of the population (53%) than the eastern one (47%). Even so, walking times to the eastern aguada were on average slightly shorter than to the western aguada. Although this difference is slight, it is probably due to the location of the western aguada outside of the main meseta, meaning that people would have had to walk down its steep slopes, slowing them down. This is accentuated by average walking times back from the aguadas, with average walking time back from the eastern aguada (798 seconds) about 80 seconds shorter than from the western aguada (877 seconds) as people would have had to walk up the steep slopes of the meseta to walk back home from the latter. There is a clear separation between neighborhoods in which aguada its inhabitants had better access to (see Table 5.7). Households in the central, northeastern, and southeastern neighborhoods all had easier access to the eastern aguada. The southwestern neighborhood and western bajo were exclusively better connected to the western aguada, and the central-western neighborhood only had one single household that was not more closely connected to the western aguada. The central-northern and northern neighborhoods had a slightly more mixed access, but were both better connected to the western aguada, with only 5 (10%) and 10 (34%) households respectively being closer to the eastern one. This means that people living in the central, northeastern, and southeastern neighborhoods would have had the opportunity for more daily face-toface interactions with each other than with people living in other neighborhoods, as their members would have met regularly at the eastern aguada. Similarly, people living in the central-northern, central-western, northern, and southwestern neighborhoods as well as in the western bajo, would have been better socially integrated among each other because of increased potential face-to-face interaction at the western aguada.

The relatively small margins of error for the water supply, in particular in years of diminished rainfall during the wet season or prolonged dry season, indicate that it is likely that there was some form of supervision over the distribution of water to ensure that everyone could collect their fair share, with water leftover for general agricultural purposes. However, the evidence considered here does not support the rich either having preferential access to more water (except in the northern neighborhood), or the elite playing a particular role in its gatekeeping, neither for the western nor for the eastern aguada. While it is likely that the ruler of Uxul was involved in the construction and maintenance of these water features (and was directly linked to the eastern one through the eastern sacbe), as their elaboration suggests a high level of planning and oversight (Seefeld 2013b), royal control over the water supply does not seem to have extended to non-royal elites.

It is worth noting that this supports the separation between the central and central-western neighborhoods, which was visible in the social network visualization, but not directly observable in the landscape of Uxul. Since there is an almost exclusive separation between these two neighborhoods in the aguada its members lived closest to and were therefore most likely to go to in order to obtain their water, the social network separation is reinforced: members of each neighborhood were not only far more likely to interact face-to-face on a daily basis not only within their own neighborhood, but also by the water reservoir and on the path to it, than they were to interact with members of the other neighborhood.

In conclusion, the distribution of households with regard to access to a permanent water source is consistent with possible neighborhood specialization, although this is difficult to prove because of a lack of data that could show significant neighborhood specialization. Such a specialization, especially for the northeastern neighborhood, would have become relevant only after the construction of the eastern aguada during the Late Classic, however, and would not have been a feature at the establishment of the neighborhood. The patterns of access do reinforce the division of the settlement into separate neighborhoods, as social interactions between members of each neighborhood would have been reinforced by their shared use of one of two aguadas. Furthermore, elites either did not have relevant incentives to position their household in a location with easy access to the aguada that existed at the time (the western one), or they did not have the required influence to be able to secure a better location. In any case, the observed pattern favors the hypothesis of

Households of all status categories also tended to have slightly better access to the western aguada (see Table 5.6 above), meaning that the rich and the poor used the same water sources. There is, however, a slight overrepresentation of wealthy category II households that were situated closer to the western aguada (69%) as compared to the site as a whole (53%). This is consistent with the weak correlation found between household rank 161

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands household location with regard to water being related to specialized activities, rather than to preferential access for elites.

located outside of domestic contexts. They correspond to places where public ceremonies would have taken place, and thus where large numbers of people would have gathered. Thus, any shrines or pyramidal structures that were included within the confines of a household are excluded, as their public nature is uncertain. While high elite households with relatively large pyramidal structures (such as the one of Ak’) may well have provided some sort of religious services to a number of their neighbors, such ceremonies would have been semi-private in nature and restricted to a limited number of participants due to the lack of space and their location on (at least) semi-private household platforms.

5.5.2. Mobility and religion: access to religious services Ceremonial complexes in Classic Maya cities were important gathering places where public ceremonies would have taken place. Pyramids, ballcourts, and the large public plazas they bordered would have been important focal points of ceremonial and public life in the city, as the highest elites are thought to have used these spaces to perform public ceremonies for the inhabitants of the city. In this capacity, ceremonial complexes would have been places where elites and commoners met and interacted, but where social hierarchies would have been central to the interactions, and the hierarchical order was reinforced and legitimized. As such, ceremonial complexes are spaces in the city where all inhabitants of Uxul would have had to gather periodically at specific times, and where differences of a socio-economic nature were central. They are spaces where ritual could be conducted by a few but observed by many, allowing elites to reinforce their distance from non-elites, as well as their ties with other elites (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155). It stands to reason, then, that patterns of accessibility to religious services in these public spaces would be influenced by socio-economic differences reflecting the different roles people would have played within them.

Here, only those facilities that would presumably have provided large-scale public ceremonies for the neighborhood or city as a whole are considered. These were identified on the basis of known patterns of typical organization of ceremonial constructions, including pyramidal structures and ballcourts, that are not included in domestic contexts. As such, seven ceremonial centers or structures are considered here (see Figure 5.21): • Group A (Grube and Paap 2007, 6–8) is located on the western edge of the main meseta, and is connected to the city core and palace complex K through the western sacbe. It is composed of four pyramidal structures (between 10 and 20 m high and with a base up to 23 × 23 m) forming a plaza including five stelae and an altar. This complex also includes five unspecified rectangular structures to the southwest and one to the east. • Group D (Grube and Paap 2007, 11–12) is located about 100 m to the northeast of the palace complex and included a large pyramidal structure of about 19.5 m high and a 31 × 34.5 m base. It had a superstructure, though this was mostly destroyed through extensive looting. It was associated with two relatively large structures that form a plaza to the east. • C5 (Grube and Paap 2007, 10–11) is located in the empty space between the palace complex K and ceremonial center D. It consists of a ballcourt composed of two parallel structures, oriented northsouth, that were about 2 m high, and had a 15 × 5.5 m base. It seems to have been directly associated with the palace complex, but not integrated into it. • K1 (Grube and Paap 2007, 23) is a pyramidal structure located just 20 m to the northwest of the palace complex K, which is directly associated with it, though not integrated into it. It was about 16.5 m high, and had a 37 × 41 m base. It had a superstructure, though this was almost entirely destroyed through extensive looting. • L1 (Grube and Paap 2007, 25) is a large pyramidal structure (the largest one in Uxul) located on top of a hill and was registered as 11m high and with a 43 × 44 m base. It is located about 60 m to the east of the

However, while proximity to services in pre-modern urban centers may have provided elites with more opportunities as well as reinforced their influence, proximity to religious institutions would not always have been reserved to elites or automatically confer a higher status or greater influence. Non-elites located near these key facilities may not have benefitted from the access to them in the same way elites did, despite their proximity (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155). Thus, while patterns of inequality in access to religious centers may reflect inequalities in the roles different people played within them, an absence of such a pattern may not be evidence for equal roles. Instead, cultural conventions and social rules may have limited access, rather than physical proximity alone. Still, those playing important roles within these institutions would be expected to live close to them. Many premodern cities contained three distinct levels of religious facilities: a few high-order facilities such as temples, a larger number of intermediate-order facilities such as neighborhood shrines, and a very large number of low-order shrines included in individual residences (Stanley et al. 2016, 124). This classification follows terminology used in economic geography (Lloyd and Dicken 1972; Stanley et al. 2016, 138). For this analysis on access to religious services, only high- and intermediate-order facilities are considered, as these were

162

Settlement Organization

Figure 5.21. Map of Uxul showing the locations of the ceremonial centers.

163

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands palace complex K, and, like K1, seems to have been directly associated with it, though not integrated into the household. • Group R (Grube and Paap 2009, 8–9) is a ceremonial complex located at the eastern end of the eastern sacbe, next to the eastern aguada. It consists of a 6 m high pyramidal structure with a 13 × 14 m base. Any possible permanent superstructure would have been destroyed through looting of the structure. It is associated with four elongated structures to the southwest, forming a plaza. • K’óom (Volta 2011, 31–34) was located on a high point within the southwestern neighborhood. It includes a pyramidal structure (6 m high and a 20 × 20 m base) and a series of five low platforms, as well as a long retaining wall to the southeast. Any possible permanent superstructure on top of the pyramid would have been destroyed through extensive looting of the structure.

had much less incentive nor the necessary influence to claim an advantageous location with regard to access to public ceremonial spaces. However, while we know some elites played important roles in public ceremonies, except for the ruler it is not entirely clear who would have been performers and who spectators. Patterns of accessibility to these spaces may thus reveal the roles of certain groups of people. A scatter plot showing the relationship between household rank and their associated average walking times to each of the ceremonial complexes (see Figure 5.22) indicates no significant correlation between the two (r = .05, P = .47 > .1). When considering walking times only to the nearest ceremonial center (see Figure 5.23), there is a similar lack of significant correlation between rank and access to religious services (r = −.003, P = .97 > .1). The differences in average walking times to both the nearest ceremonial center and to all ceremonial centers are negligible between category II, III, and IV households (see Table 5.9, Figure 5.24, and Figure 5.25), and the wealthier category II households certainly don’t have an advantage over others. The lack of an advantage for category II households in their access to ceremonial centers does not reflect observations elsewhere in the Maya area that elites tend to live closer to important sacred places than commoners (LeCount et al. 2019, 254). Except for the highest ruler, the elite did not have significant advantages in their access to public ceremonial spaces and events, whether they were performers or spectators.

5.5.2.1. Wealth and access to ceremonial centers Because of the public role that the highest elite presumably played in ceremonial centers, one would expect it to have been important for them to live close to such spaces, so that they would not have had to walk far to get to them. It might even be the case that certain elite households would have been expressly associated with a specific ceremonial center that they played a role in. Commoners on the other hand, who would have been spectators and wouldn’t have played as important a role, would have

Figure 5.22. Scatter plot showing the relationship between household rank and average walking times to ceremonial centers.

164

Settlement Organization

Figure 5.23. Scatter plot showing the relationship between household rank and walking times to the nearest ceremonial center.

Table 5.9. Walking times (in seconds) to the ceremonial centers from households of each status category Status

Average walking time to all ceremonial centers

Walking time to the nearest ceremonial center

Walking time to the public ceremonial centers — C, D, K1, and L1

Walking time to the restricted ceremonial centers — A and R

I

339

116

150

399

II

797

440

737

803

III

769

470

684

756

IV

766

437

682

762

Total

767

440

684

763

The centrally located palace K (category I) is clearly best off, with the shortest walking times both on average to all ceremonial centers, as to the nearest one. We know that the rulers of Classic Maya centers played major roles in public ceremonies, and thus this proximity to the ceremonial centers should not be surprising. Furthermore, both palaces and ceremonial centers are typically located in the center of Maya urban centers, meaning that they tend to be in close proximity by default. This is the case for four out of the 5 ceremonial centers considered here, with only one (K’óom) being located outside of the central urban area.

looking at average walking times to all ceremonial centers (see Figure 5.26) and to the nearest ceremonial center (see Figure 5.27), not all neighborhoods enjoyed equal access. In particular, the inhabitants of the southwestern, southeastern, and northern neighborhoods were badly connected to the ceremonial centers of Uxul. The central neighborhoods, on the other hand, had much better access to ceremonial architecture overall. While the northeastern neighborhood was best connected to its nearest ceremonial center, its members had to walk further on average to the other ceremonial centers than the central neighborhoods. This is due to the location of group R in close connection to the aguada, making it very accessible to the neighborhood that was also best connected to the aguada itself. This is similar for the southwestern neighborhood, which is badly connected to ceremonial centers overall, but enjoyed relatively easy

5.5.2.2 Neighborhoods and access to the ceremonial centers As was the case with access to permanent water sources, there is a marked difference between neighborhoods in terms of their access to ceremonial architecture. Both when 165

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 5.24. Graph showing differences in average walking times (in seconds) to the ceremonial centers between households of different status categories.

Figure 5.25. Graph showing differences in walking times (in seconds) to the nearest ceremonial center between households of different status categories.

access to the nearest one, since K’óom was integrated within the neighborhood. Still, the central-northern and central-western were better connected to the nearest ceremonial centers, which were located at the very center of the site, although they were not as clearly integrated within the neighborhood. The northern and southeastern

neighborhoods were particularly badly connected to the nearest ceremonial center. It is worth noting that the sharp contrast in access to the nearest ceremonial center between the central neighborhood and the southeastern one is consistent with, and strengthens the interpretation of these indeed being separated social entities, and that 166

Settlement Organization

Figure 5.26. Graph showing differences in average walking times (in seconds) to the ceremonial centers between neighborhoods.

Figure 5.27. Graph showing differences in walking times (in seconds) to the nearest ceremonial centers between neighborhoods.

167

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands it validates their separation into distinct neighborhoods based on social network analysis.

advantage in terms of access to public ceremonial places. Even though they would have visited them like anyone else from the neighborhood for public gatherings, being close to them would not have been more important for the elite than for commoners. Instead, other concerns, such as social integration and access to water, seem to have been more important incentives for elites in this neighborhood when it came to choosing a location for their household, even if it was to the detriment of their access to ceremonial centers.

In none of the neighborhoods, whether their overall access to the ceremonial centers was good or not, did the richer households have a systematic advantage in their average access to the ceremonial centers over the poorer households within their own neighborhood, based on the lack of correlations between household rank and walking time to the nearest ceremonial center (see Table 5.10). The same is true for correlations between rank and access to the nearest ceremonial center. There are, however, variations in this pattern between the neighborhoods.

Interestingly, there is also no significant correlation between household rank and access to the nearest ceremonial center for either the southwestern (r = −.12, P = .50 > .1) or the northeastern (r = −.18, P = .46 > .1) neighborhoods, even though both had a ceremonial center that was integrated into the neighborhood. In the case of the northeastern neighborhood, this can be explained by the fact that although the ceremonial complex R was located within it, it was directly connected to the center of the site through the eastern sacbe, and therefore may in actuality have been better integrated with the central ceremonial complexes than with the neighborhood surrounding it. The ceremonial complex K’óom, however, was not clearly connected to the rest of the settlement, and seems to have functioned in a public capacity only within the context of the southwestern neighborhood. It would have been expected, in such a case, that the elite of the neighborhood would have been responsible for the public ceremonies within it, since it is unlikely that the ruler of Uxul would have performed the bulk of the ceremonies here (though they may have visited for specific ceremonies) and therefore would have had an incentive to live close to it. This was not the case, however, in the southwestern neighborhood, where the data on access to this ceremonial complex does not indicate any special role for its elite. In fact, there were eight category IV households that were situated closer to it than the nearest category II one.

In the northern neighborhood, which had poor overall access to the ceremonial centers, there is even a moderate inverse correlation between household rank and access to the nearest center (r = −.38, P = .04 < .05), meaning that wealthier people had to walk further to reach a public ceremonial complex than their poorer counterparts. This is not consistent with the elite of this neighborhood playing an important public ceremonial role either for their own neighborhood or for the city as a whole. Since there is no ceremonial center included in this neighborhood, it was not expected that its elite would have played such a public ceremonial role (although they may still have conducted semi-public ceremonies within the confines of their private households). This also shows, however, that the elite on the periphery of the city probably did not play an important public ceremonial role in the context of the settlement as a whole. Indeed, if this were the case, it would still be expected for the elite to occupy residences that would have facilitated their access to these ceremonial locations. Thus, since this neighborhood was so far removed from the main public ceremonial centers of Uxul and the local elite probably did not play an important role in them, it was not important for them to found their household in a location that would have given them an

Table 5.10. Table showing the statistical correlations between household rank and access to the ceremonial centers for the different neighborhoods Correlations with household rank Neighborhood

Average walking time to P-value all ceremonial centers

Walking time to the nearest ceremonial center

P-value

Walking time to the public ceremonial centers

Walking time to the restricted P-value P-value ceremonial centers

Site-wide

0.054

0.468

−0.003

0.965

0.041

0.581

0.052

0.486

Central

0.062

0.742

0.126

0.507

0.095

0.619

0.084

0.658

Central-northern

0.272

0.178

0.293

0.147

0.285

0.158

0.279

0.172

0.048

0.851

−0.139

0.582

0.072

0.777

−0.088

0.729

−0.005

0.984

−0.176

0.457

0.021

0.931

−0.070

0.771

Central-western Northeastern

0.112

0.565

−0.382**

0.041

0.011

0.956

0.106

0.586

Southeastern

Northern

−0.048

0.851

−0.139

0.582

0.000

1.000

0.057

0.817

Southwestern

−0.119

0.496

−0.119

0.496

−0.110

0.528

−0.087

0.621

Western Bajo

−0.827

0.173

−0.802

0.198

−0.817

0.183

−0.842

0.158

* Correlation is significant at the 0.1 level (2-tailed) ** Correlation is significant at the 0.05 level (2-tailed) *** Correlation is significant at the 0.01 level (2-tailed)

168

Settlement Organization Thus, in this neighborhood, it seems that the elite either did not play an important role in public ceremonial life, that they had other, more important incentives for their household location, or that they did not have the necessary power to secure advantageous locations with regard to their access to the ceremonial center. In neither the northeastern nor southwestern neighborhood did the elite show any indication of playing a special role in the public ceremonies for the settlement as a whole, as they also had no advantages in terms of average overall access to the ceremonial centers over their poorer counterparts.

complex K, which is the best connected to the ceremonial centers in general, a connection that is reflected in the layout of the central ceremonial complexes, with direct connections between the palace and all of the ceremonial structures considered here except for K’óom. The second clear exception is the northern neighborhood, for which a significant inverse correlation between rank and access to the nearest ceremonial center was detected, strongly suggesting that elites here did not play an important role in public ceremonies. For the site as a whole, it seems that the wealthiest elites did not have either a systematic incentive to live close to the public ceremonial center, or did not have the power to do so.

In the central, central-northern, central-western, and southeastern neighborhoods, however, wealthy category II households were on average better connected to both their nearest ceremonial center and to the ceremonial centers of the settlement as a whole than their poorer counterparts (see Figure 5.26 and Figure 5.27). While the lack of a significant correlation between household rank and walking times shows that these are not systematic advantages, this pattern may show that at least some of the wealthiest elite in these neighborhoods played an important role in ceremonial centers. For example, it is possible that specific wealthy elites played such a ceremonial role, while others within the same economic class specialized in other activities. This would explain the observed pattern in the absence of significant correlations. However, in none of the neighborhoods did a wealthy category II household have the single best access to ceremonial centers, as in all of them at least one category IV household enjoyed better access. It is thus possible that poorer people also played important roles in the ceremonial centers (although such roles may not have been necessarily ceremonial in nature, as they could also reflect maintenance concerns, for example).

There are also differences between how accessible the different ceremonial centers were, and who had easy access to them. Most of the neighborhoods were rather uniform in which ceremonial complex they had easiest access to (see Table 5.11). As expected, the nearest ceremonial center to all but four of the households of the southwestern neighborhood was K’óom, as it’s the only one located within the neighborhood (the remaining four households were located closer to A). Similarly, all northeastern neighborhood households were best connected to R, the ceremonial center located within it. R is also the nearest ceremonial center for most households from the northern neighborhood, safe for one that was located closer to K1, one closer to D, and three closer to A. The southeastern neighborhood was by far best connected to L1, with only two households being located closer to R. The households of the central neighborhood were all also best connected to L1, with only the palace complex K being better connected to the ballcourt C. The households that were located in the western bajo were closest to ceremonial complex A. The differences between the neighborhoods, combined with the fact that most are internally very uniform in which ceremonial center they were best connected to, confirms and supports their division into distinct neighborhoods. Indeed, while it is likely that there were certain public ceremonies that would have been meant for the entire population at Uxul, it is likely that more frequent smallerscale ceremonies would have taken place in most if not all the ceremonial centers, increasing social face-to-face

The lack of significant correlations, however, may also be due to these patterns being the result of randomized processes, instead of reflective of actual patterns of access as related to wealth. In short, the patterns of access to ceremonial centers in Uxul don’t permit clear conclusions of who did or who didn’t play important roles in the ceremonial life of Uxul. One exception is the palace

Table 5.11. Table showing the ceremonial centers that households are closest to in each neighborhood Neighborhood

Number of households closest to each ceremonial center A

C5

D

K’óom

K1

L1

R

Central

–

1 (3%)

–

–

–

29 (97%)

–

Central-northern

–

1 (4%)

12 (46%)

–

13 (50%)

–

–

Central-western

10 (56%)

–

1 (6%)

1 (6%)

6 (33%)

1 (6%)

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

20 (100%)

3 (10%)

–

1 (3%)

–

1 (3%)

–

24 (83%)

–

–

–

–

–

17 (90%)

2 (11%)

Southwestern

4 (11%)

–

31 (89%)

31 (89%)

–

–

–

Western Bajo

4 (100%)

–

–

–

–

–

–

Total

21 (12%)

2 (1%)

13 (7%)

32 (18%)

20 (11%)

47 (26%)

46 (25%)

Northeastern Northern Southeastern

169

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands interactions for those attending. Since almost all the members of a given neighborhood would have been most likely to visit the same ceremonial center most frequently, this would have reinforced their internal social integration.

would have been able to do so much more comfortably. The open space between the palace complex, K1, D, and L1, in which the ballcourt C is situated, would also have been conducive to large public gatherings that may have involved the entire Uxul population. The way these ceremonial complexes are organized thus supports their interpretation of more public ones in the city-core, and more restricted ones at the edge of the meseta and next to the eastern aguada. However, the differences are so small that without further lines of evidence supporting this interpretation, they do not constitute proof.

However, two of the neighborhoods are less uniform in terms of which ceremonial center they had easiest access to. The central-northern neighborhood is split almost down the middle, with 13 households being best connected to L1, 12 to D, and one to the ballcourt C. Similarly, in the central-western neighborhood, ten households are best connected to ceremonial complex A, six to K1, one to L1, and one to K’óom. While this may not have reinforced social cohesion in these neighborhoods through frequent shared participation in local public ceremonies, this also does not invalidate their status as neighborhoods. Furthermore, the clear difference between the central and central-western neighborhoods in their connection to the ceremonial centers reinforces their separation into two distinct neighborhoods, as this would have decreased interaction between members of the two.

K’óom was by far the least accessible of the ceremonial centers, with 1107 seconds needed on average to reach it. The relative isolation of K’óom is easily explained by its location outside of the well-connected center of the urban core. It is the only one of the ceremonial complexes considered here that was not connected to the others through either direct proximity or the existence of a sacbe, and it thus may have played a more important ceremonial role within the southwestern neighborhood, rather than for the city as a whole.

Overall, ceremonial groups D, C, L1, and K1 were the most accessible, with members of all households having to walk between 669 and 698 seconds on average to get to them. The ceremonial complexes R and A were slightly less accessible, with people reaching them on average in 752 and 775 seconds respectively. The difference in accessibility between these ceremonial groups is easily explained by the location of the first four in the very center of the site, close to the palace complex K, while R and A were both located somewhat outside of this zone, to east and west respectively, though they were both connected to it through the sacbeob. It is likely the two sacbeob played a major role in public ceremonies and processions, directly connecting places of religious importance with each other and the palace. Furthermore, their location means that people would most likely have passed by the palace and its associated ceremonial complexes when visiting these more isolated ones, reinforcing the importance of the ruler in ceremonial matters. It is possible that the difference between groups A and R on the one hand, and K1, L1, C, and D on the other, points to a difference in function between the two. For example, it is possible that the more centrally located ceremonial groups had a more public character than the less accessible two. This may be supported by the difference in size of the plazas of ceremonial centers D, A, and R in particular. Indeed, groups A and R were organized in relatively restricted ways, with smaller plazas as compared to the plaza of group D. Groups A, with an approximately 1800 m2 plaza, would have been able to accommodate up to 9000 people in a densely packed crowd, and group R, with an approximately 23 000 m2 plaza, could have accommodated up to 11 500 people (following Still 2014). For both of these ceremonial complexes, it would thus have been possible to fit in the entirety of Uxul’s estimated 5000–7000 population, but in a relatively dense crowd, with 2 people or more per square meter. Group D, however, with its 50 000 m2 able to accommodate up to 25 000 people (following Still 2014),

The differences between “public” and “restricted” ceremonial centers do not translate into better access for the elite to the more exclusive restricted ceremonial centers. Indeed, no statistical correlation is found between rank and access to the restricted ceremonial centers of group A and R on average (r = .05, P = .49 > .1), nor between rank and walking time to the nearest of these restricted ceremonial centers (r = .01, P = .87 > .1). None of the neighborhoods individually showed any significant correlation either (except for the northern neighborhood (r = −.38, P = .04 < .05), whose inverse correlation between rank and access to the ceremonial center R has been addressed above). Thus, the elite did not live in preferential locations with regard to access to restricted ceremonial centers. Similarly, no correlation was found between household rank and average walking times to the public ceremonial centers of groups C, D, K1, and L1 (r = .04, P = .58 > .1), or between rank and access to the nearest of these groups (r = .04, P = .63 > .1). Furthermore, while this does not mean that the highest elite had no special function in either exclusive ceremonies or as actors in public ceremonies, it also does not support the hypothesis that they did have them, as elites were evidently not able to secure good access to them, or did not have sufficient incentive to do so. 5.3.3. Mobility and storage: access to chultunes As in many Lowland Maya sites, households in Uxul are often characterized by the presence of one or more chultunes nearby or within their patio. It is assumed here that chultunes would have been private household investments, rather than public facilities. This means that the household would have existed before its associated chultunes. As such, this analysis differs from those considering access to the water reservoirs and ceremonial centers in that it doesn’t deal with differential incentives and influence needed for obtaining an advantageous 170

Settlement Organization household location, but rather the amount of time and labor people were able or wanted to invest in order to excavate, prepare, and maintain underground storage. Here, it is not access to public services that is examined, but access to private facilities.

bell-shaped, contained a burial beneath an elevated surface of flat stones, and its volume is unknown (Caruso 2014, 223–29). The one in group Q had three separate chambers connected through small openings in the walls, and had a total volume of about 25.3 m3 (Seefeld 2014a, 619–42). The chultun found in Pu’uk had two chambers, was reused as a trash deposit, contained human remains (at least three individuals), and had a volume of about 28.5 m3 (Seefeld 2015, 260–67).

There is some discussion as to the function of these underground features, and it seems that not all had the same function. However, it is generally assumed that they were used for either water storage, or storage of other goods, such as food, vessels, and raw materials. It is also possible that water was stored in vessels that were placed in the chultunes, among other things. In some cases, chultunes may even have been used as temazcal chambers (Bayer 2013, 251).

Of these chultunes, none show evidence of having been modified for impermeability, meaning that none would have been efficient in storing water directly. Furthermore, their shape, with multiple chambers and different levels within most of them is typically not what would be expected for water storage, and is more consistent with their use as generalized storage of food and goods in vessels and baskets or as single items. People would have used ladders to descend into them in order to retrieve items as needed. While the number excavated here may not be a representative sample, it does mean that there is no evidence at Uxul of chultunes having been used for water storage. Furthermore, the location of many of the identified chultunes on higher ground, in locations where water would not naturally flow, further reinforces that most of them would not have been used for direct water storage, but rather for more generalized storage. It is possible that chultunes that were used for water storage existed at Uxul, but that these would have been obscured through sedimentation if they were indeed located in low points of the landscape where water naturally flowed to. If so, this analysis simply does not include them. Instead, the present analysis is concerned with access to those chultunes that are assumed to have served as general storage features and are visible on the present surface.

In Uxul, 102 chultunes were identified (see Figure 5.28). This includes only chultunes that were visible on the surface and identified during the mapping process, and may not represent the complete number of chultunes at Uxul. Some further chultunes that were not visible on the surface were found during the excavation of household groups. These were found mostly within the confines of the household patio, and were obscured because of household debris that fell into the patio during the deterioration of the constructions. This means that it is likely that many more chultunes may have existed within the confines of household patio’s, but that they were not identified because they were not visible on the surface anymore. The sample used here may therefore not be entirely representative, as observation bias would have obscured mainly the ones most central to the household, where more debris would have covered them than elsewhere. There are also some chultunes within the confines of household patios which were deliberately filled and covered during the occupation of the household, meaning they were not in use anymore during the final occupation phase (see for example Benz, 518; Seefeld 2015, 260). Therefore, those chultunes identified only after excavation are not included in the present analysis, so as to avoid an additional sampling bias, and examine only a subset that, while not complete or representative, is comparable within itself. Thus, the present analysis is not a complete analysis of the access that households had to chultunes, but rather an analysis of access to chultunes in particular types of locations close to the household, and which are likely to have been in use until the end of the occupation of the site.

Another factor that cannot be taken into account in this analysis is differences in the sizes of chultunes for different households. The excavated chultunes show that there was a wide range in size and shape. Because so few were excavated, we are unable to tell whether there was a difference in the size of underground storage features between wealthier and poorer households. Instead, if wealthier households invested in larger chultunes rather than more, patterns of differences in access to underground storage would not show up in this analysis. On the other hand, if the elite invested in quantity over size of chultunes, this should be visible through access equity analysis. Given these factors and constraints, differential patterns of access to these features can still reveal patterns of inequality, though the absence of such patterns should not be interpreted as proof of the absence of access inequality.

In total, five chultunes were excavated in their entirety, permitting interpretation of their function and evaluation of their size. These include two chultunes in group Ya’ab (Bayer 2013), one in K’anbul (Caruso 2014), one in Q (Seefeld 2014a), and one in Pu’uk (Seefeld 2015). Chultun 22-I in group Ya’ab was conical in shape with an entry to the side, a floor lined with flat stones and ceramic sherds, and an approximate volume of 0.8 m3 (Bayer 2013, 252– 53). Chultun 23-I in group Ya’ab was rectangular and had two chambers, one large and one smaller, and would have had a total volume of approximately 9.6 m3 (Bayer 2013, 249–51). The chultun excavated in group K’anbul was

5.5.3.1. Wealth and access to chultunes It would be a reasonable assumption that wealthier households would have owned larger quantities of both perishable and non-perishable goods, and therefore would have needed better access to storage than poorer 171

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 5.28. Map showing the location of the chultunes identified during survey.

people: wealthier people tend to own more. It may also be the case that they would have had larger quantities of perishable goods that could be stored over a longer time (such as tubers, cornflower, fermented goods, etc.), increasing their need for better access to storage facilities. It is unlikely, however, that wealthy households would have stored larger quantities of perishables that could not

be stored for more than a few days, as they would not have been able to consume them more quickly. However, more underground storage space would increase the amount of perishables that could be stored for longer. Thus, it might be assumed that wealthier households would have invested more in access to underground storage facilities. 172

Settlement Organization chultunes within a certain range of a household (see Table 5.13). Indeed, wealthy category II households had access to fewer chultunes on average within 30 seconds, one minute, and two minutes walking distance than poorer households did. In particular, there is a significant, although weak, correlation between household rank and the number of chultunes within two minutes walking distance (r = .17, P = .02 < .05), meaning that wealthier households had easy access to fewer chultunes than poorer households. Thus, it seems that instead of the richest elites having better access to more underground storage as was expected, poorer households actually tended to have more chultunes nearby.

However, a scatter plot showing the relationship between household rank and average walking times to the nearest chultun (see Figure 5.29) shows that there is no significant correlation between the two (r = −.03, P = .72 > .1). In order to verify whether this lack of correlation is due to most households having had access to at least one chultun, but only some to more than one, I calculated the correlations between household rank and average walking times to multiple of the nearest chultunes. Similarly, no significant correlation was found between household rank and access to the nearest three chultunes (r = −.08, P = .30 > .1), five (r = −.09, P = .22 > .1), or ten (r = −.09, P = .24 > .1). There are also no clear differences in how far people of different economic categories had to walk r to access the nearest chultunes (see Table 5.12), with only the inhabitants of the palace complex having had to walk significantly further than average in order to access the nearest chultun.

There are multiple ways to interpret the observed pattern. First of all, it is possible that the elite did not have the same incentive as poorer people to construct underground storage pits. They certainly would have had the means, as their wealth would have made it easier for them to command the man-hours necessary for the elaboration of a chultun than for poor people. But the pattern seen here may

A stronger pattern of inequality when it came to access to chultunes is seen when considering the number of

Figure 5.29. Scatter plot showing the relationship between household rank and walking time to the nearest chultun. Table 5.12. Walking times (in seconds) to the nearest chultunes from households of each status category Status

Average walking time to the nearest chultun

Average walking time to the 3 nearest chultunes

Average walking time to the 5 nearest chultunes

I

118

123

165

II

77

121

151

III

70

113

149

IV

83

119

150

173

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Table 5.13. Table showing the average number of chultunes within different walking ranges for households of each status category Status

Number of chultunes Number of chultunes Number of chultunes within 30 seconds within 1 minute within 2 minutes walking time walking time walking time

Number of chultunes within 3 minutes walking time

Number of chultunes within 5 minutes walking time

I

0

0

1

3

9

II

0.1

0.4

1.9

4.8

9.6

III

0.3

0.9

2.4

4

9.6

IV

0.3

0.7

2.4

4.2

9.7

mean that it was less important for richer people to have them. For example, it is possible that rich people tended to store other types of goods and resources than poor people, leading them to have less need for underground storage. This seems an unlikely explanation, however, as one would expect rich people to, on the contrary, have larger quantities of the type of both perishable and permanent goods that would need to be stored.

Another possible explanation for the pattern found is the identification bias mentioned earlier, through which chultunes within household patios may have been obscured by construction debris. It is possible that richer people were more likely to have a chultun within the confines of their household patio, as it was typically larger than that of poorer households. Furthermore, the much larger amounts of stone used for household construction by the rich, especially in the case of monumental household structures, may also mean that chultunes directly within and around their household structures would have been more easily obscured than in poor households. Thus, the pattern seen here may be, in part, the result of the chultunes of the poor being less likely to become invisible on the surface over time. However, the patios of the richest households were usually large enough that construction debris even from monumental construction would not have covered them. In Ma’ax, for example, the chultun uncovered in the middle of the patio was not covered by construction debris and was close to the surface (Barnard and Delvendahl 2015). Thus, while this explanation may account for some of the observed better access to chultunes for the poor than for the rich, it does not undermine the observed pattern entirely.

Another possibility is that richer people tended to make larger chultunes. It is uncertain whether this is the case, because of lack of data on the subject, but this way rich people would have owned few large chultunes, while poorer people would have owned more but smaller ones. It is unclear, however, what the reason would be behind such a distinction, as it would presumably not be costlier to make one large chultun than multiple small ones. It is possible, however, that the large investment needed on short-term to make a large chultun would have been prohibitive for poorer people, who would then have made smaller investments for smaller chultunes spaced out over time, although if this were the case it remains unclear why poorer people would not simply expand their existing ones. Furthermore, there is presumably an upper limit to the size of a functional chultun with regard to structural integrity. This means that this hypothesis, while possible, is not sufficient to explain the disparities in access to chultunes between poor and rich.

However, it is likely that the observed correlation is in fact not the result of an actual lack of chultunes associated with wealthier households. Instead, the correlation between household rank and the number of easily accessible chultunes may be related to the inverse correlation between household rank and walking time to the nearest neighbor. Indeed, as seen earlier (see 5.4.1 Social integration and wealth), the average time needed for the members of one household to reach the nearest neighboring household is 66 seconds. This means that chultunes that were located a minute or further from a household may actually have belonged to a neighboring household, and instead only chultunes within 30 seconds walking distance can be assigned to a household in a systematic way (although this does not mean that all chultunes situated within a 30-second radius actually belonged to the household, as exceptions in distance to the nearest neighbor exist). Thus, the better access to chultunes for poorer households may simply be the result of the inverse correlation between household rank and walking time to the nearest neighbor (r = −.14, P = .06 < .1). Thus, it may simply be the closer proximity between poorer households and their neighbors that drives their advantage in access to a higher number of

A third possibility with regard to storage space is that richer people were able to afford more functional aboveground storage, and therefore did not have the need for as much underground storage space. We know very little about the efficiency and conditions of underground vs. aboveground storage in this area, and it is very much possible that aboveground storage would have been just as efficient if not more, especially when built of insulating stone material. Thus, the greater ability of the richest people of Uxul to obtain stone construction materials may have meant that they preferentially built aboveground storage facilities rather than dug out chultunes in order to store a portion of their goods. There is, however, no clear evidence for the existence of storage buildings within Uxul’s richest households, although these may have been difficult to recognize. Furthermore, they may not have been among the preferentially excavated structures, meaning that they would have been rendered invisible due to investigation bias. 174

Settlement Organization southeastern neighborhood, and is not detected elsewhere in the settlement (for a more detailed discussion see 5.5.3.2 Neighborhoods and access to chultunes, as well as Table 5.14).

chultunes, rather than their actual use of a higher number of chultunes. This explanation is supported by the lack of a significant correlation between household rank and the number of chultunes within 30 seconds of the house (r = .12, P = .11 > .1) or within one minute (r = .10, P = .18 > .1). Still, although this is not reflected in statistically significant correlations with individual household rank, there is a clear pattern of wealthier category II households having easy access to fewer chultunes nearby than poorer households (see Table 5.13). The fact that this pattern is true for chultunes within 30 seconds walking time means that it is not entirely explained by the closer proximity between poorer households and their nearest neighbor.

5.5.3.2. Neighborhoods and access to chultunes Unlike with access to water sources and ceremonial centers, differences between neighborhoods in access to underground storage are minimal. With the exception of the households situated within the western bajo, households from all parts of Uxul had similar access to the nearest chultunes. This is true for access to the nearest three chultunes as is shown in Figure 5.30, but also for the nearest chultun up to the nearest ten.

Overall, the present analysis clearly shows that there is no indication whatsoever that the rich of Uxul had better access to underground storage than the poor. The hypothesis that the rich had more goods that needed to be stored, whether perishable or non-perishable, and that they had greater means to obtain that storage space cannot be confirmed through the presented mobility patterns. While it cannot be rejected outright either, as none of the proposed explanations are sufficient to explain the pattern, the observed pattern of equal or lesser access to underground storage for the rich of Uxul is significant. Furthermore, a more detailed consideration of the data reveals that the weak correlation for the site as a whole is in fact driven by a significant correlation only in the

Only members of households from the western bajo had to walk significantly further to get to the nearest chultun, as only one chultun was identified in the bajo. As the analysis of access to the aguadas and ceremonial centers showed, it is probable that these households had a different function within the settlement system, with their members probably having a specific status (though not necessarily high) within the settlement economy. Because of this, they may have had less of an incentive to invest in underground storage than members of the other neighborhoods. This is also the only area where a statistically significant advantage for the wealthier households than the poorer ones in their access

Figure 5.30. Graph showing the average walking times to the nearest chultun for the different status categories in each neighborhood.

175

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Only in the northern neighborhood did wealthy category II households have an advantage in their walking time to the nearest chultun. While this advantage is not translated into a statistical correlation between household rank and walking time to the nearest chultun (r = .23, P = .24 > .1), this is the only neighborhood where the elite were not at a systematical average disadvantage or on the same footing as compared to the other wealth categories. Furthermore, it was also the only neighborhood where category II households had access to more chultunes within 30 seconds walking time (i.e. the walking time within which a chultun can reasonably be assigned to one household instead of its nearest neighbor) on average than their poorer counterparts (0.5 against 0.3 for the neighborhood as a whole) (see Figure 5.31). It is unclear what this comparative advantage in access to underground storage for the elite of the northern neighborhood over the elite in other neighborhoods means, however. While the lack of a strong statistically significant correlation makes the pattern tenuous, the fact that it is the only place in Uxul where the elite aren’t at a systematic disadvantage makes the pattern worth noting.

to the nearest chultun was detected (r = .93, P = .07 < .1). However, the identification of only a single chultun for four households indicates that this pattern, although it is statistically significant, cannot be seen as representative. While a disadvantage in access to both the nearest chultun and to the number of chultunes located within a 30 seconds walking distance of wealthy category II households is seen in almost every neighborhood in Uxul (see Figure 5.30 and Figure 5.31), this does not translate into statistically significant correlations for any of the neighborhoods (see Table 5.14). The only neighborhood where such a correlation is detected in the southeastern one, but only for the number of chultunes within one minute walking time (r = .50, P = .03 < .05) and two minutes walking time (r = .56, P = .014 < .05), meaning that wealthier households systematically had easier access to chultunes than poorer ones. However, since there is no correlation between household rank and the number of chultunes within 30 seconds walking distance, the pattern cannot be clearly translated into a pattern of access to a household’s own chultunes, making its interpretation unclear. In this neighborhood, there was also no clear inverse correlation between household rank and walking time to the nearest neighbor (r = −.22, P = .36 > .1), meaning that correlation with access to chultunes can’t be explained by the wealthy living further away from their neighbors, and therefore from their chultunes as well.

In none of the neighborhoods, except the northern one, did the richer households have significant advantages in their access to the nearest chultun (see Figure 5.30). Furthermore, wealthy category II households had access

Figure 5.31. Graph showing the number of chultunes located within 30 seconds of the households for different status categories in each neighborhood.

176

Settlement Organization Table 5.14. Table showing the statistical correlations between household rank and access to nearby chultunes for the different neighborhoods Correlations with household rank Neighborhood

Walking time to the nearest chultun

Nr. of chultunes Nr. of chultunes Nr. of chultunes P-value within 30 seconds P-value within 1 minute P-value within 2 minutes P-value walking range walking range walking range

Site-wide

−0.027

0.718

0.119

0.109

0.099

0.183

0.171**

0.021

Central

−0.299

0.109

0.298

0.109

0.161

0.397

0.217

0.250

Central-northern

−0.025

0.905

−0.091

0.657

0.021

0.920

0.299

0.138

Central-western

0.179

0.477

−0.139

0.582

−0.317

0.199

−0.141

0.577

Northeastern Northern Southeastern

−0.047

0.843

0.202

0.393

0.214

0.266

−0.159

0.411

−0.13

0.327 −0.07 0.502**

0.160

0.277

0.237

0.718

−0.229

0.233

0.596

0.300

0.212

0.029

0.554**

0.014

Southwestern

0.008

0.965

0.188

0.279

−0.029

0.871

0.102

0.559

Western Bajo

0.933*

0.067

−0.775

0.225

−0.775

0.225

−0.775

0.225

* Correlation is significant at the 0.1 level (2-tailed) ** Correlation is significant at the 0.05 level (2-tailed) *** Correlation is significant at the 0.01 level (2-tailed)

counterparts, and their access to services and resources was varied and complex.

to fewer chultunes than average within a 30 seconds radius (see Figure 5.31). In fact, the poorest category IV households had an average advantage in the number of chultunes that can be assigned to their household with a reasonable measure of confidence (i.e. within 30 seconds) in the central and southeastern neighborhoods, while the relatively wealthy category III households had an advantage in the central-western, central-northern, and southwestern neighborhoods. While an explanation for this pattern is unclear, the fact that the wealthiest households had a systematic disadvantage in their access to nearby chultunes makes it significant.

No statistical advantages were found for elites in their access to the seasonal water sources, ceremonial centers, or other people (see Table 5.15). On the contrary, for each of these resources, the elite were shown to have a slight disadvantage, with category II households consistently being the worst off. This is true for social integration within the site as a whole, social integration within the neighborhood, social connections to others of the same wealth category, access to the nearest aguada, access to all the ceremonial centers, and access to both public and restricted ceremonial centers. Only in their access to the nearest ceremonial center did category II households not have an average disadvantage, though they had no discernable advantage either. While no statistically significant inverse correlation was found between household rank and each of these measures, the fact that the slight disadvantage for the wealthiest households is consistent for all of them is striking. While there is also no inverse correlation between household rank and access to the main resources considered here: social integration into the neighborhood, walking times to the nearest aguada, and walking times to the nearest ceremonial center (r = −.01, P = .90 > .1), it is clear that the elite at Uxul did not have any significant and systematic advantages in their access to resources. Overall, richer households were not better off than their poorer counterparts in terms of access to resources, services, and interactions with other members of the neighborhood.

5.6. Discussion of household location and intra-site mobility in Uxul 5.6.1. Elites vs. commoners Studies have shown that elites in many societies tend to have better access to many kinds of services and resources than non-elites, either because the political influence of centrally located elites may influence the location of crucial resources and services, or because they were able to choose advantageous locations for their households (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 145–47; Smith 2010, 138; Stanley et al. 2016, 135–37). Furthermore, elite groups tend to cluster in central city areas in order to remain close to the main governmental and religious centers and facilities, enhancing elite social and political control (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 147; Stanley et al. 2016, 123) This was not the case in Classic Uxul, however. Contrary to what was the initial expectation for this research, i.e. that the richest households would have had better than average household locations, better access to different kinds of resources and services, as well as be better socially integrated into the settlement, the analysis of intra-site mobility in Uxul shows that elites did not have significant systematic advantages over their poorer

The elite were not systematically better integrated into their own neighborhood, and in fact tended to be further removed from their nearest neighbor. While this may point to an advantage of wealthier households in terms of land ownership, as they may have controlled larger areas than poorer households, this would have impacted 177

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Table 5.15. Average access (walking times are in seconds) to resources and services (social integration within the neighborhood, access to water, and access to ceremonial services) for households of each status category Status

Social integration within the neighborhood (average of emissiveness and attractiveness)

Walking time to the nearest aguada

Walking time to the nearest ceremonial center

Average overall access to resources and services

I

372

429

116

306

II

319

659

440

473

III

299

575

470

448

IV

300

597

437

445

Total

302

599

440

447

their social integration. Furthermore, the elite were not better connected internally to other elites than poorer households to either the elite or to other commoners. This is not consistent with the elite either playing an important socio-economic and organizational role within their neighborhood or with the elite being better connected to the upper political power in Uxul.

that overall underground storage space would have been equal or larger than that of poorer households, or poorer households typically engaging in activities that required larger volumes of underground storage space. There is, however, not enough data available on either the size of chultunes or the existence of aboveground storage spaces to confirm or reject any of these possibilities.

While wealthier households had consistently higher elevations for the top of their platforms, and therefore a higher degree of visibility, as compared to poorer households within their neighborhood, they did not systematically build their houses on higher grounds. Instead of choosing, or being able to select, high locations within the neighborhood in order to gain an advantage in visibility, elites disproportionally invested in vertical architecture to obtain the same advantages. Thus, while the elite seem to have had the incentives and power necessary to be highly visible within their neighborhoods, they did not obtain the high locations that would have helped them reach this goal.

5.6.2. Neighborhoods While there were no clear systematic differences regarding household locations between elites and commoners on a site-wide level, clearer differences are seen between Uxul’s neighborhoods, which would have affected daily life in them and reflect differences in their roles and organization. The identification of neighborhood groupings through social networks based on walking times, and therefore potential face-to-face interactions, was successful in identifying neighborhood-level groups at Uxul. The separation between the central, central-western, and southeastern neighborhoods, which was detected on the basis of the social network analysis but not of the natural landscape, was reinforced in particular by the differences between these neighborhoods in which water reservoirs and ceremonial centers its members had easy access to. Such differences would have accentuated the separation between these neighborhoods because they would have led to increased face-to-face interaction for inhabitants of the same neighborhood, while decreasing interactions with people from another.

When looking at the site as a whole, only the category I palace complex K does not conform to this general trend. It was built on one of the highest points within the neighborhood and would have been extremely visible from its surroundings. The palace complex also consistently has the best average access to water and ceremonial centers, and is the best socially integrated category within the site as a whole, though it was relatively badly integrated into its neighborhood. It is also the best connected to all of these resources on average (see Table 5.15). While it may not be the individual household with the best connections to all of these resources, it is very well connected to all different types of resources because of its central location within the site.

Although there is not enough archaeological data in order to independently confirm the separation or differences between the neighborhoods (differences in architecture, occupation, ethnicity, etc.), the people living in these settlement zones would have had different daily experiences from each other, as they were isolated from each other to some degree, justifying their classification as neighborhoods. The identification of seven main neighborhoods and one small group of households outside of the main settlement area allowed for a more detailed analysis of patterns of household location, access, and intra-site mobility at Uxul. Furthermore, it allowed for a more detailed exploration of socio-economic status-related differences at a scale smaller than that of the settlement as a whole, a scale at which elite roles may have been more relevant.

The elite also did not invest more in the establishment of underground storage within and close to their residence than poorer households did. In fact, the wealthiest households were less likely than poorer ones to have invested in underground storage within 30 seconds walking distance from their house. There are multiple ways to explain this disparity, including the elite being able to invest more in good quality aboveground storage and therefore not needing as many chultunes as poorer households, the chultunes of the elite generally being much larger so 178

Settlement Organization The central neighborhood is, unsurprisingly, the best socially integrated on average into the city as a whole, and it is among the best socially integrated internally. It had a relatively good connection to the eastern aguada, but was not particularly well connected to the western one (which is the only one that would have existed at the time of establishment of the households in the neighborhood). It was relatively well connected to Uxul’s ceremonial centers overall, as well as to its nearest one (L1 for all but the palace complex K).

K’óom, which was situated within it and seems to have been exclusive to the neighborhood. The western bajo was generally very badly connected to most resources, and was the worst socially integrated internally. It was the best connected to the western aguada though, as it was located next to it. Their access to ceremonial centers was very restricted, however. Its inhabitants also invested much less in underground storage, and it was the only neighborhood where access to chultunes was significantly worse than in other neighborhoods, although this pattern may be due to a sampling bias resulting in fewer chultunes being identified here.

The other neighborhoods located most centrally, i.e. the central-western and central-northern neighborhoods, were relatively well integrated socially into the settlement. These neighborhoods are also very closely socially integrated internally. Both the central-northern and central-western neighborhoods were well connected to the western aguada. They were each also very well connected to the ceremonial centers in general and to their nearest one. These two neighborhoods are also the ones that were the least uniform in which ceremonial center their members had easiest access to.

5.6.2.1. Central vs. peripheral neighborhoods Although the general trend for Uxul shows that the richer households had no systematic advantages in terms of household location or intra-site mobility over poorer ones, there is a difference between elites living in the central neighborhoods and those living on the peripheries, especially the northern and southwestern one. In particular, there is a difference in the distribution of access to overall resources between the central, central-northern, central-western, and southeastern neighborhoods on the main central meseta on the one hand, and the northern, northeastern, and southwestern neighborhoods on the peripheries on the other. Indeed, Figure 5.32 shows that in the more central neighborhoods, the richest category households were in fact somewhat better off on average in terms of general access to resources than poorer households were. While there is no statistically significant correlation between household rank and overall access for any of these neighborhoods, wealthy category II elites were certainly not worse off, like those in the peripheral neighborhoods were, and had slightly shorter walking times overall on average than other members of the neighborhood. Furthermore, the northeastern, northern, and southwestern neighborhoods were relatively badly socially integrated internally, confirming a difference in neighborhood organization with the much more closely connected central neighborhoods.

The southeastern neighborhood was less well integrated into the settlement as a whole than the previous ones, but was also among the best integrated internally. It was among the worst connected to both its nearest aguada (the eastern one) and to the western one. This neighborhood was among the worst in its access to the ceremonial centers of Uxul in general and had the worst access to its nearest ceremonial center (mainly L1). The northern neighborhood is among the most isolated and worst integrated into the settlement as a whole. Furthermore, it is not particularly well integrated internally. It was not particularly well connected to the nearest water source, and its households were relatively split in easier access to the western and eastern aguada. It was also among the worst off in terms of its connection to Uxul’s ceremonial centers, both overall and to the nearest one (mainly R). The northeastern neighborhood is relatively well integrated into the city, and relatively well-integrated internally. This neighborhood was also by far the best connected to an aguada (the eastern one), although it was among the worst connected to water before the eastern aguada was built. It was well connected to the ceremonial centers overall, and had the best connection to the nearest ceremonial center R, which was located next to the eastern aguada.

However, the overall advantages for the elite of central neighborhoods on the one hand and the overall disadvantages for the elite of the peripheral neighborhoods on the other are not driven by the same factors. Indeed, while category II elites in the more central neighborhoods had overall advantages, in the central and central-western neighborhoods they did not have any systematic advantage in their social integration into the neighborhood, in the central-northern neighborhood the slight average advantage was negligible, and in the southeastern neighborhood, the elite had a distinct disadvantage. In fact, for each of the central neighborhoods, there was an inverse correlation between household rank and either social integration within the neighborhood (for the central-western and southwestern neighborhoods) or walking time to the nearest neighbor (for the central and

The southwestern neighborhood, being situated on the periphery, is one of the most isolated neighborhoods together with the northern one. It is also the worst integrated internally, making the households here the least well socially integrated in all aspects. It was the worst connected to its nearest aguada, the western one. Though the neighborhood was among the worst connected on average to the ceremonial centers overall, it was among the best connected to its nearest ceremonial centers, 179

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 5.32. Graph showing average overall access to resources for the different wealth categories within each neighborhood.

where a statistical correlation between household rank and access to the western aguada was detected. The two other peripheral neighborhoods, however, did not follow this pattern, with elites being significantly worse off than poorer households in their access to the western aguada (the nearest for households in the southwestern neighborhood) in both neighborhoods. In the northeastern neighborhood, where the eastern aguada was located, the elite did not obtain an advantage in their access to it when it was constructed.

central-northern neighborhoods), meaning that the elite were less well connected to the other members of their neighborhood than poorer people were. While the elite in the more peripheral neighborhoods did not have systematic statistical advantages in terms of their integration into the neighborhood, they also did not have the systematic disadvantages that the more centrally located elite had. Furthermore, out of all the neighborhoods, the elite living in the northern one had the biggest advantage when it came to reaching other people of the same economic class, while poorer people were less well connected to both the rich and each other.

The pattern as related to access to the ceremonial centers is opposite to the one related to access to the aguadas. Indeed, in each of the central neighborhoods, the wealthy category II households have an average advantage over poorer ones in their access to the nearest ceremonial center. In both the southwestern and northern neighborhoods, however, the elite had an average disadvantage in this respect. However, neither the advantages for the elite in the central neighborhoods, nor the disadvantage in the southwestern neighborhood, are translated into statistically significant correlations between household rank and walking times. Only the northern neighborhood shows a clear statistical inverse correlation, meaning that members of wealthier households systematically had to walk further in order to access Uxul’s ceremonial centers. A similar pattern, although less pronounced, is seen when considering access to all ceremonial centers. In the northeastern neighborhood,

In the central, central-western, and southeastern neighborhoods, wealthy category II households had easier access to the nearest permanent source of water on average, while the elite in the peripheral neighborhoods did not have this advantage. However, this advantage is not detected when looking at walking times to the western aguada, i.e. the only water reservoir available at the time the households were constructed, meaning that this advantage was not related to a desire or ability to choose a location close to water at the time the household was established. Elites in the northern neighborhood, on the other hand, although their advantage in access to the nearest aguada was negligible, were able to obtain a location for their households that gave them easier access to water year-round. It was also the only neighborhood 180

Settlement Organization any difference between wealthier and poorer household categories is negligible. It should be noted that it is in the neighborhoods that were furthest removed from Uxul’s main ceremonial complexes in the center of the site (i.e. the northern and southwestern neighborhoods) that the elite were seemingly the least concerned with obtaining good access to any ceremonial center, even when a private ceremonial center was included into the neighborhood as was the case for the southwestern neighborhood. This may mean that elite living in the center of the site played a more important role in public ceremonies, while peripheral elites, because they were further removed from the main ceremonial center, did not play such a role for the members of their neighborhood, and thus did not need to live particularly close to the ceremonial centers.

higher status households were still systematically more visible in the landscape. The southwestern neighborhood is the only neighborhood where the elite did not have any advantages in their visibility within the neighborhood, with households that were not located in elevated locations, and their platforms not rising above the landscape, even though the elite disproportionally invested in vertical architecture. The differences between the central and the peripheral neighborhoods with regard to the locations of households of different status, and the advantages or disadvantages conferred to the wealthiest households in their access to resources and visibility may be due to a difference in the role and power of these elites within their neighborhood. It is possible, for example, that the organizational, administrative, leadership, and/or mediation roles of non-royal elites were stronger in neighborhoods further away from the palace. In this case, the ruler of Uxul, or members of the palace complex, would have been the stronger central power within the central neighborhoods, ruling more or less directly over its members. People who lived further away, however, and who therefore had less easy access to the rulers in the palace, would have turned to its representatives: the elite households on the peripheries of Uxul. This would result in a stronger role within the community, as a link to the ruler of Uxul, their representative, and/or as rulers on a lower level, for elites living in neighborhoods that were further removed from the palace. This would have been an incentive for better social integration within the neighborhood for the elite, as people would need to reach them and interact with them frequently. Thus, elite households may have become focal nodes within the neighborhood, fulfilling a specific function to the benefit of the neighborhood (both in terms of political processes and as a meeting point for social processes). Furthermore, the higher visibility of elites may have served to reinforce and legitimize status and power through a highly visible outward display of wealth, while symbolically “watching over” the neighborhood. Elites on the periphery would have had relatively more power, and thus may have been better able to secure better locations for their households with regard to visibility, access to water, as well as social integration with their socioeconomic peers. This effect is seen the strongest in the northern neighborhood, the most isolated neighborhood overall, which seems to have given its elite a particularly important role.

Thus, it seems that there was a clear difference between the central neighborhoods and the peripheral ones, not only in the overall advantages of the elites in their access to resources in general, but also in the nature of the resources and services that the elite were concerned with. In the central neighborhoods, the overall advantage of the elites seems to have been driven mainly by their better access to the ceremonial centers (although the correlation with household rank is not statistically significant), to the detriment of their social integration and access to the aguadas. In the northern neighborhood, on the other hand, even though the elite had a slight average disadvantage in access to services in general, the elite were better socially integrated into the neighborhood and had easier access to the western aguada than poorer households, although they had systematically worse access to the ceremonial centers. Here, the elite thus seem to have favored, and were able to obtain, household locations with easy access to water and with good social integration over easy access to public ceremonies. The elite of the southwestern and northwestern neighborhoods do not seem to have had clear systematic advantages in their access to resources and services over poorer households. They were better integrated into the neighborhood than the central elites, but not better than poorer households in their own neighborhood, and they had no advantages when it came to their access to water or the ceremonial centers, even though both neighborhoods included one. Furthermore, while in almost all the neighborhoods the top of the wealthy elite’s platforms was systematically higher than those of poorer households, making the elite more visible within the landscape of the neighborhood, only the elite in the northern, northeastern, and central neighborhoods were able to build their household in higher spots in the landscape. This means that while elites had an advantage in visibility throughout the site, only those in the northern, northeastern, and central neighborhoods were able to obtain a location for their households that gave them an advantage in visibility, as they weren’t obliged to invest disproportionally in vertical architecture. This pattern is especially strong in the northern neighborhood, as it is the only neighborhood where no correlation was seen between household rank and platform height, yet the

The rich living close to the palace, on the other hand, may not have needed to fulfill such a role. The central neighborhoods were much more connected to the ruler in the palace, rather than to non-royal elites, which may not have been needed to play a governmental role given the proximity of the palace. There was no need for an intermediary link to the palace, and rulership would have been organized more directly from the palace, resulting in less need for good social integration, and a weaker relative position within the neighborhood overall. This is supported by the overrepresentation of category II households in the central-western neighborhood, suggesting that the role of 181

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands these non-royal elites in the center was less “special” and exclusive than it was for those on the peripheries.

Interestingly, the only neighborhood where the pattern of access to chultunes near the household was reversed (that is to say where the richer households actually tended to have better access to more chultunes than their poorer counterparts) was the northern neighborhood. It is striking that the neighborhood where the elite seem to have been relatively powerful, and at least were better connected to both the other members of their own neighborhood and to resources across the site, is also the only place where the richest households had a systematic advantage in access to underground storage. While it is unclear how to explain this pattern, it does confirm a difference in the way the isolated northern neighborhood was organized with regard to the role and power of its elite compared to the more central neighborhoods.

The southwestern neighborhood, however, while similarly removed from the central ones as the northeastern and particularly the northern one, does not conform to this pattern. While the rich here may have also had some sort of organizational role within the neighborhood, resulting in their relatively good social integration within it (at least as compared to those in the central neighborhoods), this advantage did not translate into advantages in the elevation of the location of their household or their access to other resources such as water, ceremonial centers, and their socio-economic peers. Unlike the northern and northeastern peripheral neighborhoods, people living in the southwestern neighborhood had access to a nearby ceremonial center situated within the neighborhood that does not seem to have played the same kind of city-wide public role as the more public ones found in the central neighborhoods. It is the only neighborhood that contained its own ceremonial center that was the best accessible one for members of the neighborhood, but also the least accessible for the rest of Uxul’s inhabitants. This would have reinforced the isolation of the neighborhood from the rest of the site, as people would likely have had fewer opportunities to interact with people from other neighborhoods, since they would not have had to access the more central public ceremonial centers as often. It is striking, however, that even given this factor, the elite in this neighborhood were not more closely associated with the ceremonial center, as they would have been the most likely candidates to have played a crucial role here. This might mean that either the elite here did not play an important role in the neighborhood ceremonial center, that they did but that other factors weighed more heavily in their choice for household location, or that they did not have the power necessary for such a choice. The fact that the wealthy here also had no advantage in their location on an elevated spot, their access to water, or to each other may indicate that there was a difference with the elites in other peripheral neighborhoods in terms of either their power or their incentives. While the rich systematically built higher platforms for their households, they did not build their houses in higher locations, and their disproportionate investment in vertical architecture did not make them significantly more visible in the landscape. Additionally, this neighborhood contained four category II households, representing 11% of its total, more than other neighborhoods, both proportionally and absolutely, except for the central-western neighborhood. This is consistent with a different role for these elites than for those in other neighborhoods. Furthermore, the fact that the southwestern neighborhood is less well socially integrated internally than any of the other main neighborhoods is consistent with the neighborhood as a whole being somewhat differently organized than the others. In any case, there is no strong evidence in this neighborhood indicating that the elite had any kind of advantage over poorer people when it came to their choice of household location.

However, the patterns described here are weak, and while differences between wealth categories can be observed, these do not always translate into statistical correlations between household rank and access to resources and services, or to advantageous locations for households. While this pattern is consistent with elites in the northern and northeastern neighborhoods (and possibly those in the southwestern neighborhood, although probably to a different extent or in a different role) participating in some way in the organization, planning, administration, and/or oversight of their own neighborhood, it does not confirm it. Still, the same pattern is seen consistently (in particular for the northern neighborhood) whether considering visibility, social integration within the neighborhood, access to the aguadas, and access to underground storage, meaning that it is a significant pattern, if not fully explained. It seems that household role, power, organization, and/or incentives for good social integration and access to resources were different for the central neighborhoods than for the peripheral northern and northeastern neighborhoods, as well as for the southwestern neighborhood. 5.6.2.2. Bajo In the discussion about differences between mobility in the central neighborhoods and the peripheral ones, the western Bajo was not included, although it is situated on the very periphery of the site. The reason behind this is that this group of households is very dissimilar to the other neighborhoods in many ways, and may in fact not be considered to be an actual neighborhood. Indeed, the western bajo only counts four households, and therefore would not have functioned in the same way as the other neighborhoods, which counted 25 households on average. Furthermore, their location outside of the Uxul mesetas may indicate a special function for these households, warranting their analysis separately from the rest of the city. The western bajo is one of the most isolated groups of households out of all of Uxul’s neighborhoods. Because they were situated next to the main meseta, a steep slope separated them from the rest of the site, making it much more difficult to reach and interact with people from 182

Settlement Organization other parts of Uxul. On top of that, these households were relatively badly socially integrated internally, having had one of the longest average walking times to reach other households within the neighborhood. Thus, these households were socially very isolated from both their own neighbors and from the site as a whole. Both the rich category II and III households had a better than average social integration within the neighborhood, pointing to a potential role in organization and/or an advantage in the choice of household location for the elite in the western bajo. This advantage is not very strong, however, and because of the low number of households, it is not statistically significant.

neighborhood, it seems likely that the households located there had special functions, possibly having to do with the management of agricultural fields outside of the city. Furthermore, these households may have functioned as special links to potential households or other structures and features situated further outside of the main settlement zone in the floodplains. In particular, it is likely that the households located next to the western aguada played some kind of special function related to it. 5.6.3. Implications of the Uxul settlement organization Overall, contrary to what was expected, the richer households at Uxul, except for the palace complex, tended to be somewhat worse off in terms of intra-site mobility and their access to social integration (overall, within their own neighborhood, and among their socio-economic peers), the seasonal water reservoirs, ceremonial centers (both restricted and public), and underground storage. Even in the peripheral neighborhoods, especially the northern and northeastern, where they were relatively better off, and were on average slightly better connected than poorer households in the same neighborhood, the advantage is not statistically significant. Furthermore, while elites were systematically more visible within the landscape of their own neighborhood than poorer households, they had to rely on large investments in architecture to achieve this, and did not obtain particularly high locations to build their household on. While these results do not support an interpretation of elites playing any particular roles related to the resources considered here or having particularly strong power with regard to the spatial organization of the city, the aspects of the built environment that contribute to enhancing the status of elites are not well understood (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155). There are several possible ways to interpret the relatively weak position of the elite with regard to their access to the resources and services discussed here.

The western bajo, as was to be expected due to the location of the western aguada within it, had one of the best connections to the nearest water reservoir out of all the neighborhoods. Since the eastern aguada was constructed only once the settlement was already well established, likely as a way to deal with increasing population pressures and/or decreasing annual rainfall, it is fair to assume that it was mainly used for domestic use for Uxul’s population. The older western aguada, being situated outside of the urban center, likely was also used for different goals having to do with, for example, irrigation and agriculture in the low floodable terrains surrounding Uxul. If this is the case, then it is probable that the households located close to this aguada also played a special role in the management of the fields, irrigation, maintenance of the reservoir, and/or control over the water supply. The western bajo was relatively badly connected on average to the ceremonial centers, both overall and to the nearest one. Furthermore, it had the worst access to nearby chultunes out of all of the neighborhoods. In fact, only one chultun was found within reasonable walking distance of the richest household in the western bajo, making it by far the worst off in terms of access to underground storage. It is likely that the low investment in underground storage is the result of the special function or status of the households located outside of the main Uxul meseta, resulting in different household activities that seem to have resulted in a lower need for underground storage. It is also possible, however, that the above-average sedimentation rates in these lower-lying parts next to the meseta edge and slope would have resulted in obscuring some chultunes.

First of all, it is possible that the elite simply did not have strong enough incentives that made it important for them to consider visibility or walking times to these resources when choosing their household location. This tells us something about the roles, obligations, and privileges Uxul’s richest may have had. Their low degree of social integration both within the site as a whole and within their own neighborhoods indicates that easy day-to-day interactions may not have been the most important factor in household location. This also makes it less likely that they would have had important organizational, governmental, or administrative duties concerning day-to-day concerns within their own neighborhoods, as such duties would have required frequent interactions with other neighborhood members, and a central location of the elite would be expected. This does not necessarily preclude higher-level governmental duties at the settlement scale or regarding less daily concerns, however. While the elite were systematically more visible within their neighborhoods than others, they did not achieve this by building their houses in high locations, meaning that visibility may not

While the households in the western bajo were not particularly well off in their access to all resources at Uxul, they were by no means the worst off, even though they had to climb the meseta slope in order to access most of them. On the contrary, they were better connected than the northern, southwestern, and southeastern neighborhoods (see Figure 5.32). However, these average values are driven by different factors than those seen for Uxul overall. In particular, the proximity of the households of the western bajo to the western aguada improves their overall access score significantly. Combined with the particularly low occurrence of chultunes, the location outside of the main meseta, and the extremely small nature of the bajo 183

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands have been of primary concern when it came to choosing the location of the household, for example because they had the means to achieve it through investment in vertical architecture and had other more pressing concerns that weren’t as easily compensated for. Members of the richer households had to walk as far or further on a daily basis than everyone else during the dry season in order to gather water at the aguadas, indicating that they either did not systematically perform activities that needed large amounts of water, or that they may have been able to employ servants to get water for them, meaning that walking time to the nearest water source would not have been of primary importance when choosing a location for the household. Their lack of an advantage with regard to access to the ceremonial centers, both public and restricted, may indicate that they did not play specific, important roles in the performance of ceremonies there, contrary to what was expected. The low investment in chultunes in and near the household suggests that the richer household had less use for underground storage, either because they typically did not engage in activities that required it, or that they were able to instead invest in high-quality aboveground storage. However, it is possible that the elite simply did not all have the same incentives for choosing household locations. Indeed, the elite were the least well connected to their economic peers, meaning that they may have had varying incentives and reasons for choosing their household locations, leading them to be dispersed over the site and throughout the neighborhoods following each individual household’s needs, instead of all ending up in the same areas close to each other.

if wealth was accumulated mainly through a free market system, that wealth did not automatically translate into political or social power which could have given the rich an advantage when choosing their household location. If wealth was not the basis of power and land ownership was not part of a market system, then there would be no reason for richer households to have any kind of advantage when choosing a location for their household. It is also clear in this case that the wealthy would not have had the power to influence the location of important places such as water reservoirs and ceremonial centers to be constructed close to their own homes in order to be well connected to them, instead the location of such important spaces would have been constrained by other factors (location of the palace, sacred spaces, social and cultural meaning of spaces, topography, etc.). While it is likely that the rich did have some power in their choice of household location, it was not clearly driven by any of the factors considered here. It would seem, then, that wealthy people did not have more important incentives or more power than their poorer counterparts to choose a location that was highly visible, easy to reach, and was close to other people, water, and ceremonial centers. The fact that the rich seem not to have had important incentives to be socially well integrated, neither into the settlement as a whole, nor within their own neighborhood, makes it unlikely that they played important organizational, political, and/or administrative roles within the neighborhood (with the possible exception of those in the northern and northeastern neighborhoods). They also were not better connected to the palace complex than poorer people. It is unlikely, then, that wealthy people in Uxul (apart from the ruling family) had any systematic particular political power, and that their economic and social control over others would have been more than minimal at best. While it is likely that the members of some of the wealthy category II households would have played some political role, and may have been able to extract labor through taxation, for example to build their masonry residences, such political advantages do not seem to have been exclusively correlated with wealth, and wealth alone did not confer such political advantages. Thus, it seems that both a lack of systematic power over the other inhabitants of Uxul, as well as a lack of incentives for being particularly well connected to other people and to resources and services explains the clear lack of systematic advantage for wealthier people when it came to the location of their household and to their access to the resources discussed here.

However, it is also possible that the richest households did have incentives to live close to these resources, but simply did not have the power to claim particularly advantageous locations with regard to access to resources. For example, if people were not among the rich when first establishing their household, but its members continued living there over the subsequent generations and accumulated wealth over time, then these rich households would still be situated in the less advantageous location that it was established at before it became wealthy. If rich people were able to establish their households when they were already rich, on the other hand, this does still not guarantee their ability to obtain a good location for their household with regard to visibility, mobility, and access. For example, some may not have been able to choose an advantageous location for their residence because the most advantageous locations were already occupied by older, though possibly poorer, households, and they therefore had no choice but to look for a less well-located space. It is also possible that wealth, while it would have given them many advantages, simply did not grant them the power necessary to choose a good household location. Indeed, we know little about the exact mechanisms behind land ownership during the Classic period, and it may not have been directly related to wealth if land could not be sold in a free market system. Instead, land ownership may have had more to do with lineages, family ties, household specialization, political connections, etc. Furthermore, it is possible, especially

In any case, it is clear that an advantageous household location with regard to overall access to resources in Uxul did not confer significant economic advantage to its inhabitants. While the amount of time people would have spent in order to reach important resources and each other would have significantly impacted their life and economic choices and possibilities, shorter walking times did not guarantee wealth. Better access would have improved overall quality of life, as it would have facilitated more 184

Settlement Organization day-to-day social interactions and allowed for less time spent obtaining crucial resources and accessing important services. This shows that while wealth would have granted certain advantages in Uxul, its relationship to overall wellbeing was complex, and the poor did not have drastically worse daily lives than the rich, at least in terms of walking times and social interactions.

as with neighborhood and settlement organization, rather than with wealth alone. There are systematic differences between the central neighborhoods, the peripheral ones, and the households located outside of the main meseta that may point to both differences in the role the neighborhoods played in Uxul’s economy, and to differences in their organization with regard to the role of elites within them. People in the northeastern neighborhood may have typically engaged in activities necessitating large amounts of water, explaining their strong connection to the eastern aguada. The people living in the western bajo, outside of the main meseta, may have played a role in agricultural processes outside of the city, and may have formed a link to residences and important features situated further outside of the city core, as well as probably playing an important role with regard to the western aguada, possibly having to do with irrigation, agriculture, and/or the maintenance of the aguada. Overall, people living within the northeastern neighborhood had easiest access to resources, while people from the northern, southeastern, and southwestern neighborhoods were the worst connected and had to walk furthest in order to access crucial resources. While there is not enough archaeological evidence available in order to independently confirm structural differences at the neighborhood level based on artifact assemblages, this analysis of household location and walking distances within Uxul suggests differences in the daily lives of people living in different parts of the city, with regard to their daily walking times, but also to their occupation and economic role within the city.

It should be noted that these trends don’t mean that all rich households had a disadvantage in their access to these resources. Instead, some of them were very well off in relation to one or more of the resources considered here. It is thus very much possible that some of the richer households did have more important roles regarding administration and organization, water supply, ceremonial services, etc. However, such duties and occupations were certainly not systematic, and the present analysis shows that the elite in Uxul were unlikely to have formed a uniform socio-economic layer. Instead, much like poorer households at Uxul, it seems that the wealthy had varied roles, specializations, and daily lives. This would mean that elites had both different incentives and degrees of power affecting their decision-making when it came to the location of their household. It is also probable that the sources of the wealth of the richest households were as varied as they were, leading to differences in both incentives and power when it came to choosing household locations. This is consistent with the observation based on wealth distribution that while economic mobility in Uxul was likely to be low, it was still possible for anyone to accumulate wealth. If the richest class of Uxul was then formed, at least partially, as a result of free market processes, rather than of top-down redistribution and hereditary innate status, this would explain the diversity seen in the daily lives and roles of both the rich and the poor.

Elites in the northern and northeastern neighborhoods may have played a role in the organization of the neighborhood as representatives of the main palace or as lower-level local rulers. Though elites throughout the settlement were systematically more visible than poorer households due to their high household structures, only those in the northern neighborhood were able to obtain high locations in the landscape instead of having to rely on architecture to be highly visible. Elites in the more central neighborhoods seem to not have had the same power and status, although they may have been more involved in Uxul’s ceremonial life. The elite in the southwestern neighborhood did not have any significant advantages over poorer households, meaning that there is no clear indication of a special role for them within the neighborhood.

The palace complex K is the one big exception to this overall trend. It is centrally located, on a high spot in the landscape, and enjoyed better access on average to all of the resources discussed here (except for chultunes). We know that throughout the Maya area, the ruler of a city played a major role in both public and restricted ceremonies, and was at the core of the political organization of the city (Inomata and Houston 2001, 13–14). As such, the palace would need to be situated in the city center, well connected especially to the main ceremonial centers, and able to be both seen by others and watch over them. Furthermore, its central location and good social integration would have meant that many people would have had to walk past the palace on a daily basis, thus reinforcing and legitimizing the power residing in the palace through an outward display of wealth and beauty, imposing respect (following Richards-Rissetto 2010, 11; Webster 1998, 40). The location and size of the palace in Uxul clearly follow this pattern.

The lack of statistically significant trends in the location of households of different socio-economic status for almost all of the measures considered here indicates that there likely was no strongly controlled urban planning responsible for the location of each household. While the organization of the settlement as a whole was likely the result of a combination of top-down and bottomup agencies (Pacifico and Truex 2019, 5), individual household location, in this case, seems to not have been highly controlled or predetermined by an overseeing entity. Indeed, if there was a strongly centralized vision for the settlement organization as a whole, more consistent patterns in who lived where would be expected, with

That being said, it seems that the differences observed in access to resources at Uxul may have had more to do with the roles of different households and neighborhoods, as well 185

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands particular systematic advantages for the highest elites who would have been able to strongly influence planning. Furthermore, the lack of consistency in the presence of specialized and public features among the neighborhoods is in line with their organization being the result of local socio-economic processes rather than strong centralized oversight (Arnauld et al. 2012, 218). The chronological development of the different neighborhoods supports this view, with steady growth outwards, but no clearly planned settling of specific areas and instead an organic growth of the different neighborhoods. Strong top-down processes in neighborhood formation tend to result in regular, uniform neighborhoods centered around strong public infrastructure, with consistent advantage for the powerful elite (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha‐Pedemonte 2019, 172–73). Instead, the diversity of daily experiences related to household location for people of all classes is much more consistent with a more organic growth of the urban center, with no clear overarching initial plan. While there probably was strong planning involved in, for example, the locations of ceremonial centers, the aguadas, the palace complex, and the establishment of connections between these important urban elements in the form of sacbeob, the fact that these placements seem to have had no bearing on the location of households of either the wealthy or the poor indicates that household locations were likely determined by other factors, in a more bottomup fashion. Again, the only exception may be the northern neighborhood in particular, and the northeastern one to some extent, where wealthier households had better access to services, better social integration, higher locations in the landscape, and access to more underground storage, indicating a possibly stronger top-down planning approach by the elite of the neighborhood. Elites in the rest of the settlement seem not to have had the same power to influence the organization of their own neighborhood. Nonetheless, the diverging roles of elites in the different neighborhoods point to a lack of strong centralized, topdown processes in neighborhood formation. Instead, the bottom-up, organic nature of the formation and growth of Uxul’s neighborhoods is supported by the differences in neighborhood composition, the lack of consistent and uniform public facilities in each neighborhood (most don’t contain free-standing ceremonial centers, for example), the differences in access to public goods and services, and the differences in social integration.

water reservoirs (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014). Additionally, the elite enjoyed higher degrees of social integration into the city as a whole and formed a more closely integrated group with others of the same level of wealth than poorer category households did (RichardsRissetto and Landau 2014). At Actuncan, on the other hand, commoners tended to live closer to the aguada than the elite, who were typically more concerned with their proximity to secondary sacred locations (LeCount et al. 2019). There were no clear differences, however, between the rich and the poor in their access to the ceremonial core of the site, although this changed over the course of the Classic period as the city became more segregated and access to the ceremonial core became restricted (LeCount et al. 2019). At Coba, integration within the site was complex, and not as clearly concentric as in Copan, but distinct patterns in the distribution of elites and commoners are found (Folan et al. 2009). While elites at Coba tended to be concentrated in the core of the city, many are also dispersed throughout the site. The dispersed elite, however, tended to be better connected to public services and spaces (particularly the sacbeob throughout the site, which would have facilitated their connection to the rest of the site), as well as to commoner households, indicating that they may have played a role in the governing and organization of peripheral areas of the city (Folan et al. 2009, 68). Uxul doesn’t conform entirely to any of these patterns, as wealthy households actually tended to be less wellintegrated socially into their neighborhoods than the poor, and there were no significant correlations between household wealth and access to the aguadas, ceremonial centers, or underground storage facilities, and the richer households tended to actually be worse off than their poorer counterparts. These results are more similar to spatial analysis performed at Tikal, where no correlation was found between household rank (as determined by persondays invested in household construction) and proximity to the city center, water sources, ceremonial centers, or other households of any particular rank (Arnold and Ford 1980, 722–24). Instead, differences in access to resources in Uxul reflect differences between neighborhoods rather than between levels of wealth. The distinctive patterns in access to resources and social integration between these sites, suggest differences in the incentives and/or means that people of different levels of wealth had at their disposal when it came to the determination of household location. It is possible that wealthy people at each of these sites had advantages in obtaining favorable locations for their households over poorer people, and that the differences in patterns seen for the different sites are due not to greater power of the elite in some than others, but to differences in what the elite considered to be favorable locations and which resources they considered important. For example, elites at Copan may have been mainly concerned with living in a central location, close to most resources including the seat of power and the main ceremonial core as well as water and other elites. The main concern for elites in Actuncan on

5.6.4. Mobility and access in ancient Uxul in a comparative perspective It should be noted that cities throughout the Maya area had distinct forms of organization, and that elite status, power, and concerns were not necessarily uniform across different cities. As such, Uxul does not necessarily represent a typical form of settlement organization for the Classic Maya. For example, in Copan, the poorest category households tended to have easy access to agricultural fields and local shrines, but had to walk longer than the rich in order to access major ritual events at the ceremonial core, elite sites, or to acquire water from the seasonal 186

Settlement Organization the other hand was to be close to sacred locations where they may have performed duties, while access to water and the main ceremonial core was less important because of their activities. And at Uxul the elites seem to have had differing concerns, leading to a lack of systematic patterns. They may also have been more concerned with obtaining an elevated location that would have reinforced the public image of their power, while having easy access to water and ceremonial centers as well as to other elites was less important. However, it is also possible that elites at each of the sites had similar concerns and incentives to obtain advantageous locations with regard to access to all resources, but did not have the same levels of power necessary in order to obtain those locations. It is possible, for example, that the elite at Copan were simply more powerful than at the two other sites, and therefore were able to actually secure the best locations for their households, whereas elites at Uxul and Actuncan were less successful in gaining access to all resources and instead had to choose. It is likely that the explanation is not one or the other of these two possibilities, but instead lies somewhere in between, with the combination of both incentives and means dictating where elites wanted and could construct their households. Thus, the differences between these sites reflect differences in how socioeconomic relationships were organized within each of the urban centers, as well as what the economic roles of people along the socio-economic spectrum were and what they most needed access to.

187

6 Household Economy: Production and Consumption 6.1. Ceramics: consumption, chronology, and sources

ceramic vessels often served as a medium for art and writing, contributing to symbolic communication and social messaging. Depending on what was represented, their use and who used them, and who could see the decorations, the motifs displayed could communicate specific messages to a specific audience, including about social identities and relationships, ideologies, etc. (Wendt 2010). Pottery could have symbolic functions, enabling and reinforcing principles of social inclusion and exclusion (LeCount 1999; Patiño-Contreras 2016, 41; Reents-Budet, Bishop, and MacLeod 1994).

Ceramic sherds are by far the most common artifact type at Mesoamerican sites, often by several orders of magnitude, routinely numbering in the thousands or even millions at a single site (Aimers, Farthing, and Shugar 2012, 428; Pool 2009, 115). This ubiquity is at least partially the result of the durability of ceramics, explaining their abundance in the archaeological record. Furthermore, they are susceptible to breaking, meaning that regular replacement of ceramic inventories was needed, increasing their occurrence (Pool 2009, 115). This also means that of all the crafts pursued in ancient Mesoamerica, ceramic production was among the most common and intensive (Pool 2009, 115).

While domestic utilitarian ceramic assemblages were often relatively uniform among households of a particular settlement, with similar styles represented in similar proportions and variations in vessel forms attributed mainly to differences in household activities (Eppich 2020), more expensive vessels were typically much less uniformly distributed among the population. Polychrome ceramics in Classic Maya culture in particular are usually highly associated with elites and are often considered the hallmark of the complex and competitive socio-political environment of this period (Reents-Budet 1998; ReentsBudet et al. 2000, 100). Polychrome ceramics were not only commonly associated with burial contexts, but they were also an integral part of daily life throughout the Maya Lowlands (Reents-Budet et al. 2000, 116). Polychrome food and drink service vessels were used by both elite and non-elite social classes (LeCount 1999; Reents-Budet et al. 2000, 116–17). Pictorial polychromes also functioned as records of historical events as well as religious mythology and ideology (Reents-Budet et al. 2000, 117). Furthermore, polychrome pottery seems to have functioned as a form of social and political currency, especially in high-status contexts, where vessels served socio-political purposes through ceremonial gift-giving and tribute payment rituals, and they may have played a role in important political processes such as securing relations among ruling elites, and marriage alliances (LeCount 1999, 239–40; ReentsBudet 1998; Reents-Budet et al. 2000, 117). High-quality polychrome vessels would have been expensive and were used for social communication, both directly through their specific decorations and/or texts, and indirectly through their use as status symbols and conspicuous consumption. They were important indicators of social and political dynamics and often made for and by members of the ruling elite (LeCount 1999; Reents-Budet 1998). Both their production and distribution seem to have been under the direct control of elites in many places throughout the Maya Lowlands during the Classic period, contributing to processes of social status reinforcement, wealth accumulation, and legitimization (Ball 1993; Halperin and Foias 2010, 2012; Inomata 2001a, 2001b; Kovacevich

Ceramics were used throughout the Maya area starting during the Preclassic period (± 2000 BCE – 250 CE), with the earliest well-documented Maya ceramics being dated to around 1100–900 BCE in the Belize Valley (Aimers, Farthing, and Shugar 2012, 424). By the Late Preclassic period (± 250 BCE – 250 CE), ceramics were ubiquitous in the Maya area, and a number of styles were spread throughout the Maya Lowlands (Aimers, Farthing, and Shugar 2012, 424). During the Classic period (± 250 – 800 CE), which is generally considered the height of development of Maya society and culture, elaborate polychrome pictorial pottery developed and became a staple of the elite alongside monumental art and architecture (Aimers, Farthing, and Shugar 2012, 424; Reents-Budet 1998). In the course of the Late Classic period (± 550 – 900 CE) in particular, as social, political, and economic complexity and competition increased, and control over human and natural resources became vital for the development of political power, polychrome pottery became increasingly technologically and aesthetically sophisticated, and played an increasingly important social role (Reents-Budet 1998, 71). During the Terminal Classic period (± 800 – 900 CE), when many cities were abandoned and Maya society changed profoundly, ceramic styles and industries vary significantly across the Lowlands, much more than during previous periods, and the emphasis on polychrome pottery is largely replaced by elaborately incised and modeled decorations (Aimers, Farthing, and Shugar 2012, 424). The Postclassic period (± 900 – 1540 CE) similarly emphasized incising and modeling, and its ceramics tend to be well made but varied (Aimers, Farthing, and Shugar 2012, 424). Ceramics were used in a wide range of utilitarian and symbolically charged functions, including (but not limited to) the preparation and serving of food and beverages, storage of dry goods and liquids, use as censers and braziers in ritual ceremonies, etc. (Pool 2009, 115). Additionally, 189

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands 2013, 270; Reents-Budet 1998; Reents-Budet et al. 2000, 111; Shaw 2012, 135). While not much is known about ancient Maya ceramic production because of the difficulty of identifying ceramic workshops, evidence was found for the production of high-quality polychrome ceramics in palace contexts in Aguateca (Inomata 2001a, 2001b; Inomata et al. 2001) and Motul de San José (Halperin and Foias 2010, 2012). There was not always a clearcut distinction in the distribution of decorated ceramics between elites and commoners, however, and their role and accessibility for different socio-economic groups vary throughout the Lowlands and over time (LeCount 1999).

regions (Aimers, Farthing, and Shugar 2012, 428). This type of classification is most often used as a chronological tool, allowing ceramic seriation and the dating of specific contexts, as well as the study of interactions and trade between regions and sites (Aimers, Farthing, and Shugar 2012, 428; Reents-Budet et al. 2000, 99). However, it can also be used as an indicator of sociocultural patterns, addressing questions of social process, cultural history, and socio-economic consumption patterns (Reents-Budet et al. 2000, 99). Both of these approaches are used in the present analysis, addressing questions of social and economic organization at Uxul and how it changed over time. This research also touches on inter- and intra-regional trade, examining some of the local and foreign ceramics present at Uxul during the Late Classic period.

Despite the sheer volume of ceramics in the archaeological record, our understanding of the organization of its production is limited. As compared to the manufacture of other types of tools, the residues of pottery manufacture are relatively scarce and often ambiguous: ceramic production implements tend to be general-purpose items, often made of perishable materials, and commonly recycled from other uses (Pool 2009, 115). Furthermore, making pots from clay depletes the raw material that is used, leaving few residues that can be easily identified archaeologically (Pool 2009, 115). Instead, the identification of pottery manufacture tends to rely heavily on manufacture errors resulting in misfired pieces (wasters), which potters try to avoid as much as possible, and the identification of firing features, which often mimic cooking hearths and roasting pits, especially since most pottery production throughout Mesoamerica seems to have been carried out in residential settings (Pool 2009, 115). In some Maya cases, utilitarian pottery production seems to have been performed on very low scales as part of the general activities of household maintenance, producing and replacing utilitarian vessels non-commercially as needed (Pool 2009, 118; Sheets 1992, 44). In others, ceramics, including utilitarian and highly decorated ones, were produced within the household on a commercial scale (Pool 2009, 119). Overall, residential production of ceramics, at varying scales and levels of specialization, as well as at households along the socio-economic spectrum, seems to have been the norm throughout Classic Maya society, as well as in Mesoamerica in general (Pool 2009, 119).

Sara Dzul Góngora and Julia Bach analyzed the ceramics of Uxul, and classified them following a type-variety classification system (see Bach 2012, 2013; Bach and Dzul Góngora 2011; Dzul Góngora 2013, 2015; Dzul Góngora and Bach 2014). They identified ceramics dating from the Late Preclassic period to the Terminal Classic period, and established a ceramic chronology based on comparisons with dated ceramics from the wider Maya region. I use their classification system in order to study ceramic consumption patterns in Uxul, including both chronological and socio-cultural patterns. I focus primarily on the ceramic assemblages from the ten extensively excavated households at Uxul (groups Ak’, Baak, K, K’áak’, G, M, Ma’ax, Pu’uk, Wob, and Ya’ab) as they yield sufficient data to enable the detection of statistical patterns of consumption, and represent a range of different types of domestic contexts, both from the center of the site and the peripheries, and ranging from relatively poor to extremely wealthy. In this way, consumption patterns of people along the socio-economic spectrum can be studied, as well as participation in common exchange spheres based on household location. An abridged version of the present analysis of the distribution of Late Classic ceramics in particular was also published in a prior article (see Barnard 2021). Here, I study the presence and distribution of different “groups” of ceramics, as well as that of different vessel forms and the activities they were related to (see Table 6.1 for a description of the different vessel forms identified at Uxul). There are many more aspects to the consumption and distribution of ceramics (related to attributes such as vessel size, specific decoration, wall-angle, thickness, border, hardness, etc.) that are not touched upon here because the information was either not available or such detailed analyses are beyond the scope of the present study. Furthermore, ceramics are here separated into two broad categories based on style: utilitarian ceramics and polychromes. It should be noted, however, that this distinction is too simplistic to represent all the nuances of ceramic quality and use-life, and there are many vessels that may not have fit neatly into this dichotomy. However, with the data and time available for this study, it is a functional distinction in that it denotes a broad representation of the

6.1.1. Uxul ceramics Maya ceramics, including in the case of Uxul, are typically classified using a type-variety system. Typevariety systems organize ceramics hierarchically, based on visual and tangible characteristics, into “groups” or styles (based on broad characteristics such as paste and/or surface type) which are clusters of “types” (defined by a set of attributes such as color and decorative features) and “varieties” (based on single attributes) (Aimers, Farthing, and Shugar 2012, 428; Patiño-Contreras 2016, 40). The varietal level is of particular interest, as it identifies local, and in some cases individual, ceramics workshop behavior (Reents-Budet et al. 2000, 99). The type-variety classification system provides a common language for archaeologists, facilitating comparisons between sites and 190

Household Economy Table 6.1. Table showing the different vessel forms identified at Uxul, their description, and their presumed functions (further subdivisions of these specific shapes were made during their classification, but here only their broad categories, reflecting the functions of those shapes, are presented) Vessel form

Description

Cajete

Deep dishes or large bowls

Cajete abierto

Cajete with a wide opening with outwards sloping walls

Cajete cono

Cajete with a cylindrical shape

Cajete corto

Squat cajete

Cajete hondo

Deep and tall cajete

Cajete silueta compuesta

Cajete with a composite silhouette

Pichel

Tankard or jar

Function

Serving

Cuenco

Bowl

Cuenco abierto

Bowl with a wide opening with outwards sloping walls

Cuenco boca restringida

Bowl with a narrowed opening

Cuenco corto

Squat bowl

Fuente

Flat dish with upright walls

Platón

Plate or dish

Eating

Eating / serving

Cilindro tripode

Cylindrical vessel with a tripod base

Tecomate

Rounded bowl with narrowed opening, based on the shape of a gourd

Vaso

Cylindrical drinking vessel

Vaso barril

Large cylindrical vessel with convex walls, shaped like a barrel

Drinking / serving

Molcajete

Bowl-shaped mortar, usually with a tripod base

Cooking

Cazuela

Deep dishes with vertical walls

Cazuela boca restringida

Cazuela with a narrowed opening

Tapa

Lid or cover

Botellon

Bottle

Olla

Large vessel with a restricted neck

Drinking

Cooking / serving Storage Storage / serving

Botellon miniatura

Miniature cylindrical bottle

Cajete incensario

Deep dish for burning incense

Cajete miniatura

Miniature cajete

Candelero

Candle holder

Cazuela miniatura

Miniature cazuela

Incensario

Incense burner, various shapes

Olla miniatura

Miniature olla

Sahumador

Incense burner in the shape of a bowl, typically with a tripod base and/or handle

Tambor

Ceramic drum, barrel-shape with widened opening

Venenera

Miniature bottle

?

Sherd of unidentified vessel

Ritual

Unknown

distribution of fancy and expensive ceramics, even if the presence of equally expensive carved, modeled, bichrome, or even undecorated ceramics may be obscured. The quality of such other types of ceramics, nevertheless, is not uniform, and the evaluation of their quality and worth was not recorded in individual cases. Polychrome ceramics, however, universally tend to be high-quality, and by definition a lot of effort and resources went into their production, making them almost universally expensive. As such, polychrome ceramics serve as a proxy for the

study of the distribution of expensive ceramics in Uxul, rather than as a full representation thereof. It should be noted that throughout this analysis I consider possible correlations of ceramic consumption with household rank. However, household rank was determined based on construction volumes as they were at the end of the Late Classic period. The construction volumes of household groups before this time are unknown, meaning that the ranks thus determined may not apply directly 191

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands to earlier periods. Indeed, it is not known when specific households may have accumulated their wealth, and it is possible that households that originally belonged to poorer classes accumulated wealth over time. However, it can be assumed that the palace complex K was always the largest and wealthiest of the households, and thus would have occupied the rank number one from the start of measuring here. Furthermore, it is unlikely that households that started out as wealthy would have shrunk significantly over time, meaning that households that belonged to poor classes during the Late Classic are likely to have done so during earlier periods as well. The specific rankings, however, are unknown, and any patterns of correlation for periods before the Late Classic will be handled critically, and as possible patterns rather than definitive ones.

and 59% of the total assemblage respectively. In the case of household group Ma’ax, these ceramics were mainly found in the derrumbe of one of the excavated structures, indicating that it was probably constructed during the Late Preclassic period, using the contents of a trash deposit for construction fill. In group Pu’uk, most of the Late Preclassic ceramics come from a chultun that was reused as a trash deposit during the Late Preclassic, indicating definite occupation of the household during this period. The Early Classic is the period during which the definitive occupation of all of the household groups considered here started. Indeed, all of these households have at least one Lote context that has a significant (over 20%) proportion of Early Classic ceramics, indicating that each of them was occupied at the time, and includes construction phases from this time period. While there is significant variation in the relative amounts of ceramics dated to this period (and therefore in the intensity of construction), the relative amounts of ceramics are considered representative, and patterns seen for all households should be significant.

6.1.2. Chronology of the extensively excavated households There is considerable variation in the amounts of ceramics dated to each period in the different households, reflecting their occupational history (see Table 6.2). A more detailed chronology of occupation and construction phases is being developed by Julia Bach, and is outside the scope of this present analysis. Here, I will focus on general patterns of occupation and construction based on the presence or absence of dated ceramics within excavation contexts in order to determine crude occupation chronologies. This does not include, however, a detailed analysis of individual construction chronologies.

During the Late Classic period, all households were clearly occupied, and at their most extensive construction phase. This is the period for which the most data is available at Uxul and the time for which the ranking was developed. While there is some variation in the intensity of construction during this period, patterns will be representative for each of the households considered here. During the Terminal Classic, while there was no construction going on anymore in any of the households considered here, most of them still show sporadic traces of occupation. The only household group with individual Lotes that had significant amounts (at least 20%) of Terminal Classic ceramics, however, is group Ma’ax, where two trash deposits were clearly still in use during this time. However, there is no indication of continued construction. This also means that the wealth ranking established on the basis of the Late Classic construction volumes may be relevant for this time period, although it is difficult to ascertain whether the people living in large households still had more purchasing power, as they do not seem to have built themselves. Therefore, household rankings will not be used for statistical analysis, and patterns based on wealth will be dealt with critically. Furthermore, the sporadic nature of these ceramics (only

Total numbers of Late Preclassic ceramics in Uxul are relatively low, as many of the households seem only to have been sporadically occupied and construction was limited. In most of the households considered here, however, at least one Lote existed that had relatively high proportions of Preclassic ceramics (over 20%), indicating a Late Preclassic occupation. In groups Baak, G, and K’áak’ this was not the case, however, and Late Preclassic ceramics were so sporadic here as to not represent definitive construction phases. Though these households were occupied during the Late Preclassic, it seems no extensive construction took place then, and the numbers of Late Preclassic ceramics may not be representative. For two of the households, Ma’ax and Pu’uk, Late Preclassic ceramics were very abundant, representing 23%

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

2.4%

1.3%

7.0%

23.4%

58.7%

5.1%

1.2%

7.1%

35.7%

23.6%

30.7%

31.9%

10.8%

10.7%

34.7%

6.5%

23.4%

Late Classic

81.0%

82.2%

62.8%

70.8%

65.6%

60.8%

61.5%

29.9%

59.9%

91.8%

68.1%

Terminal Classic

0.7%

0.0%

0.2%

3.2%

2.4%

0.3%

4.3%

0.8%

0.3%

0.6%

1.4%

Total nr.

26986

7571

20418

100939

13465

129246

19601

16068

7627

48939

390860

192

Total

Ma’ax

1.3%

17.0%

K

0.8%

15.8%

G

2.5%

Early Classic

Baak

Late Preclassic

Period

Ak’

M

K’áak’

Table 6.2. Table showing the proportions of ceramics dating to each period found at the individual extensively excavated households

Household Economy Preclassic assemblage, and representing between 17% (at group Pu’uk) and 67% (at group Baak). Polvero ceramics represent 17% overall, and vary between 5% (at group Pu’uk) and 26% (at group K). A small amount of ceramics (0.2%) belonged to either the Sierra or Polvero group, but could not be classified definitively as one or the other. Flor ceramics represent 12% of the total, and varied between 5% (at group Pu’uk) and 17% (at group M) for the individual households. All other ceramic groups represent less than 2% of the total Late Preclassic assemblage, although there is a lot of variation between individual households for these as well, with Zapatista representing 5% of ceramics at group Pu’uk, but less than 1% at all the other households, for example. Furthermore, there is much variation in the proportions of eroded ceramics, but this phenomenon probably has more to do with post-depositional processes rather than variations in ceramic groups.

two were found for group Baak, 21 for group Wob, and 45 for group G) means that patterns may not be entirely representative of ceramic consumption patterns at these households. 6.1.3. Late Preclassic ceramics 6.1.3.1. Distribution of stylistic groups Of the ceramics found in each of the extensively excavated household groups examined here, 12 groups were distinguished that belonged to the Late Preclassic period at Uxul (see Table 6.3). These were subdivided into types and varieties, but for the purposes of the present analysis, only the overarching group according to the type-variety classification system is considered. It should be noted that there was a high degree of variation in the total numbers of Late Preclassic ceramics found at each of the households, and patterns, especially for groups Baak, G, and K’áak’, may not be entirely representative.

A Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity (Cowgill 1990; Peeples 2011; Robinson 1951) applied to the domestic groups considered here on the basis of the occurrence of Late Preclassic ceramics reveals a relatively low measure of similarity (at least as compared to other time periods, see below), with much pair-wise variation (see Table 6.4 for the full similarity matrix). The average similarity coefficient is 152 out of 200, with 78 being the lowest (between groups K and Pu’uk), and 186 the highest (between groups K and M). The household group that had the least in common with the others is group Pu’uk, with

In each of the households, four groups were the most abundant, with their distribution varying depending on the household: Sapote, Sierra, Polvero, and Flor. Overall, Sapote ceramics were the most abundant (36% of all Late Preclassic ceramics), but very unequally distributed, with percentages at individual households varying between 12% (at group K) and 68% (at Group Pu’uk). Sierra ceramics were somewhat less abundant, representing 33% of the Late

Ak’

Baak

K

K’áak’

G

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Total

Table 6.3. Distribution of different stylistic groups of Late Preclassic ceramics found at the extensively excavated households

Sapote

122

11

66

282

36

1476

1357

6372

139

111

9972

Sierra

332

40

138

1119

82

3735

1580

1573

154

260

9013

Polvero

105

4

35

632

38

2274

952

510

65

109

4724

5

0

0

14

0

19

9

2

0

2

51

103

5

24

343

13

1507

684

456

26

88

3249

Zapatista

1

0

0

4

1

19

2

463

0

0

490

Caramba

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

5

5

10

Tipikal

0

0

0

0

0

0

3

0

0

0

3

Unto

2

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

2

No designado: rojo sobre crema

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

41

0

0

41

No designado: crema inciso

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

10

0

0

10

No designado: modelado

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

1

Erosionados

0

0

3

0

0

26

17

0

18

52

116

670

60

263

2394

170

9030

4587

9427

390

575

27566

Group

Sierra/ polvero Flor

Total

193

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Table 6.4. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the Late Preclassic ceramic groups they had access to. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)

–

165.5

179.9

178.5

179.8

177.9

166.6

90.6

156.0

178.4

Baak

165.5

–

170.4

147.0

161.8

145.1

135.3

90.5

138.2

148.3

G

179.9

170.4

–

161.4

180.4

160.0

163.4

103.5

166.4

165.0

Ak’

K

178.5

147.0

161.4

–

177.4

185.7

162.7

77.8

143.7

170.0

K’áak’

179.8

161.8

180.4

177.4

–

175.5

167.7

97.4

162.5

168.4

M

177.9

145.1

160.0

185.7

175.5

–

173.4

86.9

153.3

178.9

Ma’ax

166.6

135.3

163.4

162.7

167.7

173.4

–

112.9

172.9

168.0

Pu’uk

90.6

90.5

103.5

77.8

97.4

86.9

112.9

–

122.0

89.3

Wob

156.0

138.2

166.4

143.7

162.5

153.3

172.9

122.0

–

165.9

Ya’ab

178.4

148.3

165.0

170.0

168.4

178.9

168.0

89.3

165.9

–

Average

163.7

144.7

161.2

156.0

163.4

159.6

158.1

96.8

153.4

159.1

an average similarity coefficient of 97 out of 200, and with its highest degree of similarity being with group Wob (122 out of 200). By contrast, all the other groups show average degrees of similarity with the others between 145 and 164, meaning that group Pu’uk was significantly different from the others. While the others had more in common, however, there were still significant differences between them.

basis of location (if people from different parts of the site obtained their ceramics from different vendors and/ or market locations) or on the basis of wealth (if certain exchange platforms were restricted on the basis of wealth or status). It is also possible that a significant portion of the ceramics during the Late Preclassic period was not part of a free market exchange system, and instead other modes of exchange were responsible for their distribution, skewing in the favor of wealthy and powerful households, and restricting access to specific goods for commoners.

It should be noted that the differences between households in their ceramic assemblages are slightly more significant when considering subdivisions of the ceramic groups at the variety level. Indeed, when considering all 46 distinct varieties as recorded in the type-variety classification system, the average Brainerd-Robinson coefficient drops to 146 out of 200, with 77 being the lowest pair-wise value (still between groups K and Pu’uk) and 182 the highest (still between groups K and M). The same pattern as for more general groups remains visible, with group Pu’uk being significantly different from all the other households which all have pair-wise similarity values above 133 between each other, and average similarity coefficients of 139 and higher. The significant variation at the variety level, though not much higher than at the general group level, is important, because the varietal level identifies local, and in some cases individual, ceramic workshop behavior (Reents-Budet et al. 2000, 99).

Although none of the ceramic groups of which there are more than 10 in the present sample were exclusive to one of the household groups, it is remarkable that group Pu’uk owned almost all of the Zapatista ceramics (463 sherds out of 490). This may have been due to personal preference or to connections with producers or traders of the style. It is unclear whether the differential distributions of the ceramic groups are related to wealth, as, apart from the palace complex K, the ranks of the other households during the Late Preclassic are unknown. However, a class of ceramics for which the distribution may have been related to wealth, as it often is because of their high cost and use as sumptuary goods, are high-quality polychromes. In the case of Uxul, very few polychromes were found that dated to the Late Preclassic. However, four sherds of Zapatista polychromes were found in palace complex K (corresponding to 0.17% of its total Late Preclassic assemblage), and 14 at household group M (0.15% of the total assemblage). These two groups were the only ones where this type of polychrome ceramics was found. While the rank of household group M is not definitively known for this period, it is a reasonable assumption that it was already a wealthy household, given its close proximity to the palace complex K and its extremely high rank in later times. It is possible, then, that this type of polychrome ceramics was restricted to the highest elite of Uxul during

These significant differences between the households have two possible explanations. First, it is possible that not everyone obtained their ceramics from the same place, and did not have the same choices in selecting them. Models of market exchange following a distributional approach (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016; Hirth 1998; Hutson 2021; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 87; Shaw 2012, 120) suggest that this may be caused by households not having had access to the same market exchange sphere. Access to goods, then, may have been restricted on the 194

Household Economy the Late Preclassic period. Three more polychrome sherds, belonging to the Sierra group, were found in group Pu’uk, however, indicating that not all polychromes may have been restricted in this way. Nevertheless, the intensive occupation of this household during the Late Preclassic may indicate that it was a relatively large and wealthy household at the time, meaning that these fancy ceramics may still have been primarily owned by the elite of Uxul. Thus, while numbers are low and may not be entirely representative, it seems that high-quality polychromes during the Late Preclassic were either not freely available, or too expensive for most to obtain.

A Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity (Cowgill 1990; Peeples 2011; Robinson 1951) applied to the extensively excavated domestic groups on the basis of the occurrence of different forms of ceramic vessels reveals a relatively low measure of similarity between them (see Table 6.6 for the complete similarity matrix). The average similarity coefficient is 140 out of 200, with 67 being the lowest value (between groups Pu’uk and Baak), and 187 the highest (between groups Ak’ and K’áak’). The household that had the least in common with the other ones is Ya’ab, with an average similarity coefficient of 111 out of 200, meaning that it had less in common with the other groups than they did among each other. Overall, there is significant variation in how similar the assemblages of the different households were to each other, some showing very marked differences, and only a few showing significant similarity.

It should be noted that eroded ceramics were found significantly more in group Ya’ab than in any of the other households (9% of Ya’ab’s assemblage vs. 0.4% overall). This is likely due to post-depositional processes. Indeed, since group Ya’ab never developed monumental architecture, and mounds were kept low, there was much less architectural volume covering the ceramics than in the other households considered here, leaving ceramics more vulnerable to weathering and erosion.

It is unlikely that the differences in the types of vessels are directly related to wealth, as there is no indication that particular shapes of vessels would have been systematically more expensive than others. Instead, it is more likely that any variation was due to either differences in household activities, or to differences in the exchange platforms, and thereby in the ceramics that people had access to. It is unclear, however, to what degree such differences were related to wealth, as the relative levels of wealth for the households during this time are unknown.

6.1.3.2. Distribution of vessel forms Overall, twelve different vessels forms were identified dating to the Late Preclassic period within the extensively excavated households (see Table 6.5). In each of the households, ollas were the most abundant category, representing 71% of the total ceramics, and between 43% and 88% of the sherds at the individual households. Cajetes, cuencos, and cajetes hondos were the other most common shapes in descending order, though much less abundant than ollas, as they represent only between 21% and 3% of the total assemblage. All other vessel forms represent less than 1% of the total.

When performing a Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity (Cowgill 1990; Peeples 2011; Robinson 1951) on the distribution of vessels based on their functions (serving, eating, drinking, cooking, storage, and ritual), however, a much higher degree of similarity is measured between the households. For this exercise, the total numbers of vessels with the same probable function (as shown in Table 6.1) were used, with vessel forms with

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Total

Table 6.5. Distribution of the different Late Preclassic vessel shapes found at the extensively excavated households

Olla

405

26

135

1316

107

5571

3085

8294

242

330

19511

Cajete

176

27

95

833

46

2783

831

776

115

191

5873

Vessel form

Cuenco

61

6

21

190

14

438

354

159

24

33

1300

Cajete hondo

25

1

11

46

2

208

301

77

5

19

695

Cajete abierto

0

0

0

0

0

2

1

51

0

0

54

Vaso

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

48

0

0

49

Tecomate

0

0

1

6

1

11

4

8

0

2

33

Cazuela

0

0

0

0

0

15

3

0

1

0

19

Cuenco abierto

3

0

0

2

0

1

6

2

0

0

14

Cuenco incensario

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

11

0

0

11

Olla Miniatura

0

0

0

1

0

1

0

1

2

0

5

?

0

0

3

0

0

26

18

0

19

52

118

670

60

263

2394

170

9030

4586

9427

389

575

27564

Total

195

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Table 6.6. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the Late Preclassic vessel shapes found there. BrainerdRobinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)

–

122.1

151.9

183.6

186.8

174.5

169.7

131.4

177.6

103.7

Baak

122.1

–

167.0

121.0

133.5

105.8

94.8

66.6

110.1

176.3

G

151.9

167.0

–

150.2

159.1

136.0

124.5

91.2

139.3

150.4

K

183.6

121.0

150.2

–

180.0

177.3

156.5

122.3

175.3

102.8

K’áak’

186.8

133.5

159.1

180.0

–

167.2

160.5

128.4

172.2

115.3

M

174.5

105.8

136.0

177.3

167.2

–

173.9

143.1

185.2

89.0

Ma’ax

169.7

94.8

124.5

156.5

160.5

173.9

–

154.6

167.2

88.2

Pu’uk

131.4

66.6

91.2

122.3

128.4

143.1

154.6

–

136.5

70.9

Wob

177.6

110.1

139.3

175.3

172.2

185.2

167.2

136.5

–

98.9

Ya’ab

103.7

176.3

150.4

102.8

115.3

89.0

88.2

70.9

98.9

–

Average

155.7

121.9

141.1

152.1

155.9

150.2

143.3

116.1

151.4

110.6

Ak’

The differences between the household groups in the vessel forms they owned, are repeated in the degree of diversity of vessels they owned. Indeed, at most of the households, between 5 and 6 different vessel forms were found (only 4 at group Baak). However, three of the households (groups M, Ma’ax, and Pu’uk) owned at least 10 different vessel forms, showing a much larger degree of diversity than the other households. It can’t be definitively determined whether this advantage in ceramic diversity was related to wealth, however, and a similar diversity was not seen for the ceramic groups. It should also be noted that these three outlying groups are also the ones where by far the most Late Preclassic ceramics have been found, meaning that this pattern may be due to sampling error, rather than to actual differences in diversity.

multiple probable functions being counted twice, once for each of their possible function categories, as the available data is not detailed enough to determine what individual vessels were used for. The average similarity coefficient is 182 out of 200, with 166 being the lowest value (between groups Pu’uk and Baak), and 197 the highest (between groups Ak and K’áak’) (see Table 6.7 for the full similarity matrix). The household that has the least in common with the others is group Pu’uk, with an average similarity coefficient of 179 out of 200, meaning that it was still significantly similar to the other households. Thus, the similarity between the extensively excavated households in what they used their ceramics for was much higher than for the specific forms of ceramics they owned, although significant differences remain.

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Table 6.7. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the functions of the Late Preclassic ceramic vessels found there. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)

–

185.1

191.1

194.0

197.4

194.1

194.7

181.0

195.7

193.0

Baak

185.1

–

192.1

189.1

182.5

183.9

179.9

166.1

182.9

187.1

G

191.1

192.1

–

196.8

190.4

191.4

187.4

174.0

190.3

194.9

K

194.0

189.1

196.8

–

193.3

194.5

190.5

176.9

193.5

196.9

K’áak’

197.4

182.5

190.4

193.3

–

194.3

196.8

183.5

196.1

192.6

M

194.1

183.9

191.4

194.5

194.3

–

192.5

182.0

197.3

196.5

Ma’ax

194.7

179.9

187.4

190.5

196.8

192.5

–

186.2

194.3

190.4

Pu’uk

181.0

166.1

174.0

176.9

183.5

182.0

186.2

–

182.3

179.0

Wob

195.7

182.9

190.3

193.5

196.1

197.3

194.3

182.3

–

195.1

Ya’ab

193.0

187.1

194.9

196.9

192.6

196.5

190.4

179.0

195.1

–

Average

191.8

183.2

189.8

191.7

191.9

191.8

190.3

179.0

191.9

191.7

Ak’

196

Household Economy People in each of these households, however, seem to have performed each of the activities considered here to similar degrees, with differences between them likely being related to differences in household specialization. Serving vessels represent between 90% and 98% of the total household ceramic assemblages (being significantly overrepresented at groups Pu’uk and M), eating vessels between 2% and 10% (being significantly underrepresented at groups Pu’uk and M), drinking vessels between 0% and 0.6%, cooking vessels between 0% and 0.3%, storage vessels between 43% and 88% (with a significant underrepresentation at group Baak and an overrepresentation at group Pu’uk), and ritual vessels between 0% and 0.5%. Clearly, group Pu’uk in particular is different from the others in terms of what ceramics were used for, which may be explained either by differences in household specialization, or by the inhabitants of group Pu’uk making more use of multifunctional vessels (that were used for both serving and eating, or for both storage and serving, for example) than others.

heterogeneous patterns of distribution are typically the result of either the existence of multiple market-exchange platforms, accessible to only parts of the site (through either location or socio-economic status), or of different modes of exchange (restricted based on socio-economic criteria) being responsible for the distribution of different types of artifacts. Both of these scenarios are possible for Late Preclassic Uxul. However, the fact that groups that were located near each other had significant differences in their ceramics assemblages (in particular, group Pu’uk, which was located relatively centrally, showed the least similarities with the other groups), makes the hypothesis of multiple small-scale marketplaces less likely. The fact that some of the polychromes during this time seem to have been exclusive to specific elite households is more consistent, on the other hand, with their distribution being restricted (formally or through prohibitive pricing) based on socio-economic status. The differences in the vessel shapes each of the extensively excavated household groups used, confirm the existence of significant differences between these groups in their ceramic consumption patterns. Whether these differences are based on wealth or on household activities could not be determined here. However, it is clear the household group Pu’uk, the household that was most intensively occupied during this period, is consistently distinct from the others in its consumption patterns.

6.1.3.3. Conclusions: Late Preclassic ceramics It is clear that there were significant differences in both the styles and the forms of ceramics that people had access to during the Late Preclassic. While it is unclear whether these differences were directly related to wealth and socio-economic status, it does indicate that people from around the site do not seem to have had access to the same ceramic exchange sphere. Indeed, models of market exchange predict that if everyone accessed given resources through a single market exchange platform (for example at a centralized marketplace) that was not restricted based on wealth, status, or location within a city, the distribution of different groups of ceramics would have been far more homogeneous (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 87; Shaw 2012, 120). More

6.1.4. Early Classic ceramics 6.1.4.1. Distribution of stylistic groups For the ceramics found in each of the extensively excavated household groups examined here, ten groups could be distinguished that belonged to the Early Classic period at Uxul (see Table 6.8). While these were further subdivided

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Total

Table 6.8. Distribution of different stylistic groups of Early Classic ceramics found at the extensively excavated households

Aguila

2465

585

3608

13697

2196

22083

861

866

960

1477

48798

Triunfo

1310

626

2714

7129

1442

15235

1058

649

1308

1423

32894

Balanza

381

59

848

2296

440

2439

187

179

297

218

7344

Ciricote

22

4

65

125

14

904

0

13

32

18

1197

Maxcanu

41

0

14

349

33

345

4

0

26

18

830

Dos Hermanos

0

0

1

17

2

5

1

0

13

1

40

Saxche

0

0

6

10

0

12

0

0

1

2

31

Pucte

3

1

0

14

0

0

0

0

0

0

18

Policromos Erosionados

25

11

22

62

9

98

0

6

5

0

238

No designado

12

1

9

134

4

82

4

0

2

3

251

4259

1287

7287

23833

4140

41203

2115

1713

2644

3160

91641

Group

Total

197

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands into types and varieties, mainly the overarching groups according to the type-variety classification system are considered for this analysis.

domestic groups considered, on the basis of the occurrence of Early Classic ceramics reveals a relatively high measure of similarity, much higher than for the Late Preclassic period and with much less pair-wise variation (see Table 6.9 for the full similarity matrix). The average similarity coefficient is 178 out of 200, with 156 being the lowest pair-wise value (between groups K and Wob), and 197 the highest (between groups G and Pu’uk). The household group that had the least in common with the others is group Wob, with an average similarity coefficient of 170 out of 200, meaning it had somewhat less in common with the other household groups than they did between each other, but its ceramics assemblage was still significantly similar to them. So, household groups throughout the site, both at the center and the periphery, show a high degree of similarity in the proportions of ceramic groups that they had access to during the Early Classic. This conforms to the homogenizing effect as predicted by models of market exchange based on the distributional approach (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016; Hirth 1998; Hutson 2021; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 87; Shaw 2012, 120). This is consistent with most ceramics having been commercially distributed at Uxul and available to all in a single place.

It should be noted that although many more ceramics were found dating to the Early Classic period than to the Late Preclassic period, fewer different groups were identified. This means that, although occupation intensified in Uxul during this time, the diversity of available ceramics seems to have diminished. The mechanisms responsible for this are not immediately clear, but it is possible that the intensification of settlement at the site brought with it a higher degree of uniformity through a more centralized system of supplying resources, and streamlined production and exchange processes. For each of the households, one of two groups was the most abundant. Aguila group ceramics were the most abundant overall (representing 53% of the total Early Classic ceramic assemblage considered here) and at most of the households, with percentages varying between 36% (at group Wob) and 58% (at group Ak’) of the ceramics of the individual households. Triunfo ceramics were the second most abundant ceramic group both overall (36% of all Early Classic ceramics) and in most of the other household groups, with percentages varying between 30% (at group K) and 50% (at group Ma’ax). Only at groups K’áak’, Ma’ax, and Wob were Triunfo ceramics more frequent than Aguila ones. Balanza ceramics were much less abundant but present everywhere, representing 8% of the overall ceramics, and between 5% (at group Baak) and 12% (at group G). All other ceramic groups represent less than 2% of the total Early Classic assemblage, and are absent at one or more of the households.

It should be noted that a remarkably high level of homogeneity between the households is maintained when considering subdivisions of the ceramic groups at the variety level. Indeed, when considering all 72 distinct varieties as recorded in the type-variety classification system, the average Brainerd-Robinson coefficient is 173 out of 200, with 151 being the lowest pair-wise value (between groups Ak’ and Wob) and 194 the highest (between groups Ak’ and K). Overall, a very similar pattern as seen for the distribution of ceramic groups is shown here, with Wob still having the least in common with the other households (with an average similarity coefficient of 167), but still being significantly similar to the others.

A Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity (Cowgill 1990; Peeples 2011; Robinson 1951) applied to the

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Table 6.9. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the Early Classic ceramic groups they had access to. BrainerdRobinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)

–

166.0

181.1

194.7

189.2

185.7

162.5

182.7

155.9

172.7

Baak

166.0

–

175.9

161.3

171.0

175.3

188.0

177.2

180.2

190.9

G

181.1

175.9

–

180.4

191.7

187.8

174.2

196.5

172.4

183.6

K

194.7

161.3

180.4

–

188.2

182.5

159.8

181.8

155.5

169.6

K’áak’

189.2

171.0

191.7

188.2

–

190.5

169.4

192.8

166.4

179.0

M

185.7

175.3

187.8

182.5

190.5

–

168.0

188.9

163.1

181.8

Ma’ax

162.5

188.0

174.2

159.8

169.4

168.0

–

174.9

189.9

185.9

Pu’uk

182.7

177.2

196.5

181.8

192.8

188.9

174.9

–

171.2

184.2

Wob

155.9

180.2

172.4

155.5

166.4

163.1

189.9

171.2

–

179.0

Ya’ab

172.7

190.9

183.6

169.6

179.0

181.8

185.9

184.2

179.0

–

Average

176.7

176.2

182.6

174.9

182.0

180.4

174.7

183.3

170.4

180.8

Ak’

198

Household Economy While similarities overall are, unsurprisingly, slightly lower when considering the more detailed variety-level subdivision, rather than the more general ceramic groups, ceramic assemblages remain remarkably homogeneous across the households. This is significant because the varietal level identifies local, and in some cases individual, ceramic workshop behavior (Reents-Budet et al. 2000, 99), indicating that the ceramics from most of the workshops that provisioned Uxul with pottery seem to have been distributed through a central marketplace where anyone had access to them.

Classic Maya world. They were often used as sumptuary goods, and their distribution tends to be heavily skewed in favor of the rich and powerful classes of society (Ball 1993; Kovacevich 2013, 270; Reents-Budet et al. 2000, 111; Shaw 2012, 135). Their distribution may therefore tell us more about the relationship between wealth and access to ceramics in Early Classic Uxul. In the case of Uxul, Early Classic polychrome ceramics are represented by six types of ceramics, belonging to the Aguila, Yaloche, Caldero, Balanza, Saxche, and Maxcanu groups, as well as eroded polychromes (see Table 6.10). In total, these represent 1.6% of the total Early Classic ceramics at the extensively excavated household groups. At each of the individual groups, polychromes represent between 0.4% and 2.7% of their total assemblage. The highest proportions of polychromes were seen in groups K’áak’ (2.7%), K (2.4%), and G (2.1%), while the lowest was recorded in groups Ya’ab (0.4%), Ma’ax (0.5%), and Wob (0.6%). While we don’t know the relative ranks of most of the households, it can be assumed that palace group K was already the wealthiest household group during this period, as it was already established as the palace complex. Furthermore, while it is unknown where exactly it was situated on a wealth ranking based on construction volume, we know that group Ya’ab must have had a relatively low stone construction volume, as monumental architecture was never developed in this household group, meaning that it very likely belonged to a relatively poor socio-economic class during the Early Classic, as well as during the Late Classic. The fact, therefore, that group K had one of the highest proportions of polychrome ceramics during the Early Classic period, and group Ya’ab the lowest, is consistent with wealthier households having had better access to polychromes than poorer ones. While a statistical correlation between wealth and relative proportions of polychrome ceramics can’t be definitively confirmed, it seems that wealthier households during the Early Classic not only were able to obtain more expensive polychrome ceramics, but also tended to expend a larger proportion of their wealth in order to obtain them

None of the groups considered here is exclusive to any of the households. However, there is variation in the diversity of ceramics present in each of the households. Indeed, palace group K is the only group where all of the Early Classic groups were found (even though it did not have the highest number of total Early Classic ceramics). Each of the other households lacked at least one group of ceramics, meaning that they had a lower degree of diversity in their ceramic assemblage. The household with the lowest degree of diversity was group Pu’uk, which owned only ceramics of the four most abundant groups (Aguila, Triunfo, Balanza, and Ciricote), as well as some eroded polychromes. It is not entirely clear whether these differences in diversity were linked to wealth, as the wealth-rankings of the households are unknown for this period, but the highest degree of diversity being present at the palace complex K does indicate that it may have played a role. 6.1.4.2. Polychromes While it is unclear whether the distribution of different groups of ceramics was directly related to wealth, as the ranks of the extensively excavated households are unknown for the Early Classic period, the distribution of high-quality polychromes may shed some light on the topic. Indeed, polychromes, due to their quality and the amount of work and resources that went into their manufacture, were an expensive resource throughout the

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Total

Table 6.10. Distribution of specific Early Classic polychrome types found at the different households

Aguila polychromes

47

3

119

318

99

286

8

21

9

9

919

Yaloche polychromes

8

1

6

48

0

56

2

0

1

3

125

Caldero polychromes

4

0

2

86

4

25

0

0

1

0

122

Balanza polychromes

0

0

0

37

0

0

0

0

0

0

37

Saxche polychromes

0

0

6

10

0

12

0

0

1

2

31

Maxcanu polychromes

0

0

0

5

0

0

0

0

0

0

5

Eroded polychromes

25

11

22

62

9

98

0

6

5

0

238

Total

84

15

155

566

112

477

10

27

17

14

1477

Types

199

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands than poorer households did, resulting in higher relative amounts in wealthy households. It is also possible that this type of resource was formally restricted on the basis of status, although it was clearly not exclusive to the ruling elite.

assemblages depending on where the inhabitants of Uxul got their polychrome ceramics. The fact, however, that most other ceramics were sold on a central marketplace where everyone had access to the same ceramic assemblages makes this explanation unlikely. It is also possible that the differences detected are due to personal preferences of the inhabitants of the different household groups. The differences may also be related to wealth. It is possible that either the elite controlled the production and/or distribution of some (if not all) of the polychrome ceramics, skewing their distribution in favor of the elite, with some types even being formally restricted to the elite. It is also possible, however, that some types were more expensive than others, allowing for wealthy households to obtain them much more easily than poorer households, for whom their costs may have been prohibitive. Because the relative wealth ranks of the households are not known for this time, it is difficult to test the relationship between polychrome assemblages and household wealth. However, polychrome ceramics were clearly not restricted to only the wealthiest households, and all had access to at least some of the types. Additionally, while the BrainerdRobison coefficient of similarity is lower than for ceramic groups overall, it is not very low, meaning that most of the groups still had roughly similar polychrome assemblages. It is likely, then, that while some of the polychromes may have been distributed in different ways, a significant portion of them was still available to all in a centralized market exchange system.

A Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity (Cowgill 1990; Peeples 2011; Robinson 1951) applied to the extensively excavated domestic groups on the basis of the occurrence of different types of polychrome ceramic vessels reveals a relatively low measure of similarity between them, significantly lower than for ceramic groups overall (see Table 6.11 for the complete similarity matrix). The average similarity coefficient is 136 out of 200, with 53 being the lowest pair-wise value (between groups Baak and Ya’ab), and 186 the highest (between groups Ak’ and Wob’). The household that had the least in common with the other groups is group Baak, with an average coefficient of similarity of 80 out of 200, meaning it had much less in common with the other groups than they did among each other. Overall there is a wide range of degrees of similarity between the households, with most showing significant differences between each other and only a few being significantly similar in their polychrome assemblages. Unlike with the ceramic groups in general, the relatively high degree of difference between the polychrome ceramics of the different households does not directly conform to the homogenizing effect predicted by models of market exchange (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 87; Shaw 2012, 120). However, this does not necessarily mean that they were not part of the market exchange system. It is possible, for example, that there were multiple marketplaces where polychrome ceramics were available, resulting in different

However, as was the case for ceramic groups in general, there is a sharp difference in the diversity of polychrome ceramics that people owned. Indeed, Palace complex K is the only household group considered here that owned every type of polychrome ceramics identified for the Early Classic period. By contrast, the household groups with the

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Table 6.11. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the Early Classic polychrome ceramic types they had access to. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)

–

112.9

150.6

160.3

135.1

181.6

131.0

156.3

186.0

131.0

Baak

112.9

–

76.1

75.2

56.1

94.4

53.3

84.4

110.6

53.3

G

150.6

76.1

–

148.1

172.2

163.7

161.3

181.9

152.3

144.1

K

160.3

75.2

148.1

–

135.6

165.3

129.3

134.3

154.9

132.9

K’áak’

135.1

56.1

172.2

135.6

–

143.1

160.0

171.6

129.1

128.6

M

181.6

94.4

163.7

165.3

143.1

–

143.4

161.0

174.3

148.4

Ma’ax

131.0

53.3

161.3

129.3

160.0

143.4

–

155.6

117.6

168.6

Pu’uk

156.3

84.4

181.9

134.3

171.6

161.0

155.6

–

150.3

128.6

Wob

186.0

110.6

152.3

154.9

129.1

174.3

117.6

150.3

–

129.4

Ya’ab

131.0

53.3

144.1

132.9

128.6

148.4

168.6

128.6

129.4

–

Average

149.4

79.6

150.0

137.3

136.8

152.8

135.6

147.1

144.9

129.4

Ak’

200

Household Economy Thus, while access to polychrome ceramics in general was not formally restricted to a single socio-economic class during the Early Classic period at Uxul, it does seem that not everyone had equal access to them. Not everyone was able or willing to expend the same amount of wealth in order to obtain high-quality polychromes, and it seems that wealthier households tended to invest more in them. This is because polychromes were either prohibitively expensive for the poorer portions of the population, or because their access to it was formally restricted (although not completely, except for some types). It seems that at least some polychromes during the Early Classic were used as status markers in a display of conspicuous consumption, and not all were part of a generalized distribution system where anyone could have access to them.

lowest amounts of different types of polychrome ceramics are group Pu’uk (where only Aguila polychromes were found, as well as eroded polychromes) and group Ma’ax (where only Aguila and Yaloche polychromes were found, the two most abundant types overall). Group Ya’ab, with the lowest relative amounts of polychromes, had access to only three types (Aguila, Yaloche, and Saxche polychromes). Furthermore, two polychrome types (Balanza and Maxcanu) were only found in the context of palace group K, and seem to have been exclusive to the rulers of Uxul. Even group M, where a larger total of polychrome ceramics was found than in group K, did not have access to these types. While the exact relationship between household wealth and the diversity of its polychrome assemblage can’t be determined, the pattern is significant and consistent with polychromes not being freely available to everyone. The fact that some types seem to have been exclusive to the palace indicates that they were used as sumptuary goods, and access to them was probably formally restricted based on socio-economic status.

6.1.4.3. Distribution of vessel forms Twenty-three different vessel forms were identified within the ceramic assemblages of the Early Classic period in the extensively excavated households (see Table 6.12).

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Total

Table 6.12. Distribution of the different Early Classic vessel shapes found at the extensively excavated households

Olla

2579

853

4259

15555

2418

28852

1425

991

1906

2177

61014

Cajete

856

242

1253

4758

775

8121

347

403

361

468

17584

Cajete hondo

197

30

341

1092

213

1499

127

75

188

147

3909

Cajete abierto

184

86

615

797

255

1220

78

103

53

187

3578

Cuenco abierto

207

30

384

874

112

939

79

46

61

53

2785

Cuenco

100

29

193

439

184

265

30

44

42

46

1372

Cilindro tripode

42

7

120

151

61

200

21

13

16

33

664

Cazuela

82

8

109

87

117

70

6

22

12

42

555

Tecomate

4

0

0

13

0

13

0

1

0

5

36

Sahumador

1

0

0

22

0

0

0

0

0

0

23

Pichel

0

1

7

10

0

0

1

1

0

0

20

Incensario

0

0

0

15

0

2

0

0

0

0

17

Cajete incensario

0

0

1

1

0

3

0

11

0

0

16

Platón

2

0

0

5

1

3

0

1

0

2

14

Olla miniatura

0

0

0

4

0

4

0

0

0

0

8

Cajete cono

0

0

0

4

0

0

0

0

0

0

4

Fuente

0

0

0

0

0

4

0

0

0

0

4

Tapa

0

0

0

0

0

4

0

0

0

0

4

Cajete miniature

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

2

0

3

Vaso

0

1

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

0

2

Botellon

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

1

?

5

0

5

6

3

3

0

2

3

0

27

4259

1287

7287

23833

4140

41203

2115

1713

2644

3160

91641

Vessel form

Total

201

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Ollas were the most frequent vessel form found, both overall (representing 67% of the total assemblage) and in each of the individual households (between 58% and 72%). Cajetes were also relatively abundant, representing 19% of the vessels overall (between 14% and 24% at the individual households). Cajetes hondos, cajetes abiertos, cuencos abiertos, and cuencos were also not uncommon, representing between 4% and 1% each of the total assemblage. All other forms of ceramics represent less than 1% of the total Early Classic vessels.

owning 18 different vessel forms. Groups Baak, Ma’ax, Wob, and Ya’ab on the other hand, had an assemblage that was lower in diversity, with only 10 vessel forms each. While the exact relationship between household wealth and the diversity of their ceramic assemblage remains difficult to ascertain, it should be noted that, as with the diversity of ceramic groups, the wealthiest household group (palace complex K) owned one of the most diverse assemblages, together with a household that would become one of the wealthiest during the Late Classic period (group M), while group Ya’ab, a household that is known to have been relatively poor, had one of the least diverse assemblages.

A Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity (Cowgill 1990; Peeples 2011; Robinson 1951) applied to the extensively excavated domestic groups on the basis of the occurrence of different forms of ceramic vessels reveals a high measure of similarity between them (see Table 6.13 for the complete similarity matrix). The average similarity coefficient is 182 out of 200, with 166 being the lowest pair-wise value (between groups Pu’uk and Wob), and 191 the highest (between groups K and Ma’ax). The household that had the least in common with the other ones, though it is still significantly similar to them, is group Wob, with an average similarity coefficient of 177 out of 200, meaning that it had slightly less in common with the other groups than they did among each other. Overall, however, there was no household whose vessel assemblage was very different from any of the others, and the similarity coefficients are high across the board.

There were three vessel forms that were exclusive to one of the household groups. Fuentes (a type of plate) and tapas (ceramic lids) were only found in household group M. Furthermore, only one botellon (a bottle or pitcher) was found, in group Ma’ax. The numbers of these vessel forms are low, however, and they may not be representative. This also makes it uncertain whether their distribution has anything to do with either household wealth or activities. None of the other vessel forms were exclusive to any of the household groups. A Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity (Cowgill 1990; Peeples 2011; Robinson 1951) on the distribution of vessels based on their functions (serving, eating, drinking, cooking, storage, and ritual) also shows a very high degree of similarity between the households (see Table 6.14 for the full similarity matrix). For this exercise, the total numbers of vessels with the same probable function (as shown in Table 6.1) were used, with vessel forms with multiple probable functions being counted twice, once for each of their possible function categories. The average similarity coefficient is 194 out of 200, with 189 being the lowest pair-wise value (between groups K’áak’ and Wob), and 199 the highest (between groups Baak and K). The

This means that any possible differences in household activities and specializations between the households considered here were not reflected in the forms of ceramic vessels they used. As with the groups of ceramics represented in the households, however, differences can be seen in the diversity of vessel forms households had access to. Indeed, it should be noted that the palace group K, as well as group M, had a high degree of diversity, each

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Table 6.13. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the Early Classic vessel shapes found there. BrainerdRobinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)

–

183.5

188.7

190.2

188.3

181.0

183.4

187.9

171.8

179.8

Baak

183.5

–

181.0

189.7

182.8

187.9

186.7

181.6

178.3

187.3

G

188.7

181.0

–

180.3

189.7

171.7

179.4

185.8

167.6

178.7

K

190.2

189.7

180.3

–

181.3

190.4

191.3

182.4

180.8

184.4

K’áak’

188.3

182.8

189.7

181.3

–

174.6

178.1

188.7

168.5

178.6

M

181.0

187.9

171.7

190.4

174.6

–

187.9

175.6

185.8

186.6

Ma’ax

183.4

186.7

179.4

191.3

178.1

187.9

–

175.0

187.3

189.8

Pu’uk

187.9

181.6

185.8

182.4

188.7

175.6

175.0

–

165.9

176.5

Wob

171.8

178.3

167.6

180.8

168.5

185.8

187.3

165.9

–

186.8

Ya’ab

179.8

187.3

178.7

184.4

178.6

186.6

189.8

176.5

186.8

–

Average

183.8

184.3

180.3

185.6

181.2

182.4

184.3

179.9

177.0

183.2

Ak’

202

Household Economy

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Table 6.14. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the functions of the Early Classic ceramic vessels found there. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)

–

194.3

198.0

195.3

197.8

191.6

194.2

194.8

190.9

193.6

Baak

194.3

–

193.1

198.5

192.7

197.1

197.9

193.3

195.7

197.0

G

198.0

193.1

–

194.1

198.1

190.4

192.7

195.1

189.4

192.2

K

195.3

198.5

194.1

–

193.4

196.1

198.1

193.9

195.1

196.2

Ak’

K’áak’

197.8

192.7

198.1

193.4

–

190.0

192.1

195.1

188.8

191.6

M

191.6

197.1

190.4

196.1

190.0

–

196.6

190.4

197.1

197.5

Ma’ax

194.2

197.9

192.7

198.1

192.1

196.6

–

192.2

196.5

197.6

Pu’uk

194.8

193.3

195.1

193.9

195.1

190.4

192.2

–

189.1

191.4

Wob

190.9

195.7

189.4

195.1

188.8

197.1

196.5

189.1

–

196.4

Ya’ab

193.6

197.0

192.2

196.2

191.6

197.5

197.6

191.4

196.4

–

Average

194.5

195.5

193.7

195.6

193.3

194.1

195.3

192.8

193.2

194.8

household that had the least in common with the others is group Pu’uk, with an average similarity coefficient of 193 out of 200, which is still very significantly similar to the others.

models of market exchange (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 87; Shaw 2012, 120). This means that most of the ceramics probably circulated in a centralized exchange system where everyone had access to them.

The household groups considered here were thus very similar in the activities they performed with the ceramics they owned. The only major difference that is seen between them is related to the use of ceramic vessels in ritual activities. Indeed, there are several household groups (groups Baak, K’áak’, Ma’ax, and Ya’ab) where no vessels related to ceremonial functions were identified. The total number of vessels related to ritual activities, however, is small, with only 67 sherds representing 0.07% of the total Early Classic assemblage belonging to this category, meaning that this pattern may not be representative. However, it should be noted that the household groups that did not own vessels clearly related to ritual functions are largely the same as the household groups that had the lowest diversity of vessel forms (except for group K’áak’, which still shows a very low degree of diversity with only 11 vessel forms). Thus, this pattern may well have been related to household wealth, with poorer households not having access to or not investing in specialized ritual vessels such as incense burners, although this pattern can’t be confirmed definitively. The absence of such vessels at these households, however, does not necessarily mean that ritual activities were not performed or were less important there, as they may have involved other multifunctional vessels and/or other types of artifacts.

The rulers of Uxul, however, did have systematic access to specific types of polychrome ceramics, and consistently showed a higher degree of diversity in their ceramic assemblage. While the link between household wealth and access to different groups and forms of vessels is difficult to confirm for the Early Classic period, the fact that the palace complex K systematically had one of the highest degrees of ceramic diversity, and access to exclusive polychrome ceramics and vessel forms, while group Ya’ab, a household that is known to have been relatively poor, had among the lowest degrees of ceramic diversity, indicates that access to ceramics was not universal, and may have been restricted based on socio-economic status. Whether such a restriction was centrally formalized or due to specific resources being prohibitively expensive is unclear, however. Still, it seems that during this period, market exchange developed at Uxul, and became centralized, providing access to the same resources for people from all over the site. This does not mean, however, that everyone had equal access to everything, as it seems that certain ceramic resources were used as sumptuary goods, and restricted to Uxul’s elite.

6.1.4.4. Conclusions: Early Classic ceramics

6.1.5. Late Classic ceramics

The fact that household groups from both the center of the site and the peripheries have a significantly high degree of similarity in the ceramics they were able to obtain, both at the general group level and the more detailed variety level, seems to conform to the homogenizing effect predicted by

6.1.5.1. Distribution of stylistic groups Of the ceramics found in each of the examined household groups, 20 distinct groups were identified as belonging to the Late Classic period at Uxul (see Table 6.15). In each 203

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Total

Table 6.15. Distribution of different stylistic groups of Late Classic ceramics found at the extensively excavated households

Tinaja

9219

2858

6739

34139

3798

39662

5557

2586

2492

23079

130129

Encanto

7729

2050

3718

29349

4251

24600

4901

1587

1536

12733

92454

Infierno

4518

1073

1988

6938

687

13850

1350

577

515

7749

39245

Zacatal

127

100

146

273

18

155

114

8

3

342

1286

Palmar

100

54

50

266

8

82

54

14

6

44

678

Sayan

1

1

5

141

17

6

21

0

1

0

193

Saxche

23

2

26

62

7

12

3

6

1

14

156

Juleki

35

1

0

10

0

0

0

0

0

0

46

Becanchen

0

0

0

0

0

42

0

0

0

0

42

Sibal

0

0

0

18

0

0

2

1

0

0

21

Molino

0

0

9

0

5

0

0

0

2

4

20

Traino

0

0

0

7

1

0

1

0

0

0

9

Chimbote

2

0

1

3

0

0

0

2

0

0

8

Egoista

0

1

2

2

0

0

1

0

1

1

8

Yalcox

0

0

0

0

0

2

0

0

0

3

5

Chablekal

0

0

0

0

0

2

0

0

0

0

2

Achote

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

Corona

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

1

Policromos Erosionados

69

56

125

244

31

166

51

16

14

721

1493

No designado

32

26

14

44

7

25

4

3

1

214

370

21855

6222

12823

71497

8830

78604

12060

4800

4572

44904

266167

Group

Total

Classic ceramic groups, reveals a high measure of similarity between these ten extensively excavated household groups (see Table 6.16 for the complete similarity matrix). The average similarity coefficient is 181 out of 200, with 160 being the lowest (between groups K’áak’ and Ya’ab) and 198 the highest (between groups Pu’uk and Wob). This means that very little significant statistical difference is detected between the household groups in terms of what groups of ceramics they possessed. The household group that has the least in common with the others is K’áak’, which has an average similarity coefficient of 171 out of 200, with 160 being the lowest (with group Ya’ab) and 186 the highest (with group K). This means that, while K’áak’ is still significantly similar to the other households in terms of its ceramic groups, it has less in common with the other groups than they do among each other. Still, the level of similarity between each of the groups is remarkably high. In fact, outside of group K’áak’, no pair-wise similarity coefficient under 173 (between groups K and Ya’ab) is recorded. So household groups throughout the site (both at the center and the periphery), as well as of different socioeconomic status, show a very high degree of similarity in the proportions of ceramic groups that they were able to

of the examined household groups, the Tinaja and Encanto group ceramics were the most abundant, representing 49% and 35% respectively of all Late Classic Ceramics found in these groups. In almost all of the groups, Tinaja was the most prevalent, with percentages hovering around 50% of total ceramics in each group (between 42% and 55%). The proportion of Encanto ceramics in each group is somewhat more variable at between 28% and 48%. The only group at which Encanto ceramics were more abundant than Tinaja was K’áak’, where Tinaja only represents 43% of the total versus 48% for Encanto ceramics. The third most abundant group of ceramics is Infierno, with 15% of total ceramics. At each of the household groups, it represents between 8% and 21%. All of the other ceramics groups occur at percentages of 1% or lower, together making up only 2% of total ceramics. At none of the examined household groups do these ceramics represent more than 4% put together. A Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity (Cowgill 1990; Peeples 2011; Robinson 1951) applied to the domestic groups considered on the basis of the occurrence of Late 204

Household Economy

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Table 6.16. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the Late Classic ceramic groups they had access to. BrainerdRobinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)

–

187.9

176.4

177.0

172.2

183.3

180.3

176.4

175.2

177.9

Baak

187.9

–

186.1

179.6

169.0

190.1

183.9

183.6

181.4

187.5

G

176.4

186.1

–

175.5

161.4

191.0

176.3

189.1

186.9

194.5

K

177.0

179.6

175.5

–

185.6

178.6

195.6

183.0

183.2

173.4

K’áak’

172.2

169.0

161.4

185.6

–

165.3

184.6

169.2

169.9

159.8

M

183.3

190.1

191.0

178.6

165.3

–

178.3

188.6

186.9

193.2

Ma’ax

180.3

183.9

176.3

195.6

184.6

178.3

–

182.4

182.9

173.9

Pu’uk

176.4

183.6

189.1

183.0

169.2

188.6

182.4

–

197.5

184.9

Wob

175.2

181.4

186.9

183.2

169.9

186.9

182.9

197.5

–

183.1

Ya’ab

177.9

187.5

194.5

173.4

159.8

193.2

173.9

184.9

183.1

–

Average

178.5

183.2

181.9

181.3

170.8

183.9

182.0

183.9

183.0

180.9

Ak’

obtain. This conforms to the homogenizing effect predicted by models of market exchange based on the distributional approach, and is consistent with most ceramics having been commercially distributed at Uxul, and available in a single place accessible to all (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016; Hirth 1998; Hutson 2021; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 87; Shaw 2012, 120).

elite who would have had preferential or exclusive access to them. This does not mean that such attached workshops for commissioned pieces did not exist at all, but if they did they would have been responsible for only a minor proportion of the ceramic assemblages of Uxul. There is one group of ceramics that forms an exception to the observed homogenized pattern of ceramic consumption, however. Becanchen-group ceramics were exclusively found in the wealthy household group M. The Becanchen ceramics correspond to a monochrome slipped style of ceramics that is produced in the Becan region, some 100 km away from Uxul, and is foreign to the Uxul area (Dzul Góngora 2013, 449). Forty-two Becanchen sherds were found in group M, and in none of the other household groups considered here. Although these ceramics were not of an exceptionally high quality, and are therefore unlikely to have played a role in conspicuous consumption or served as a status marker, their distribution does suggest that they were not part of the normal market exchange sphere. Instead, these ceramics seem to have been part of an exchange sphere that was exclusive to specific elite households. The fact that other wealthy households did not have these ceramics, however, indicates that access to them was not restricted based on wealth, but rather other factors such as personal preference, social identity, manufacture specialization, or personal connections.

It should be noted that the homogeneity of ceramic assemblages of the households remains high when considering them at the variety level instead of the general group level. Indeed, when considering all 98 distinct varieties as recorded following the type-variety classification system, the average Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of variety is 175 out of 200, with 154 the lowest pair-wise value (between groups Ak’ and K’áak’), and 194 the highest (still between groups Pu’uk and Wob). Group Ak’ has the least in common with the other household groups, with an average similarity coefficient of 164 out of 200 (followed closely by group K’áak’ with an average of 166) but it is not significantly different from the other households. Overall, even at this much more detailed level, the homogeneity of the ceramic assemblages remains remarkably high. This is significant because the varietal level identifies local, and in some cases individual, ceramic workshop behavior (Reents-Budet et al. 2000, 99). This means that not only were ceramics of different groups widely available to everyone at a centralized market, but also that most (if not all) ceramics from individual locations, and possibly even from individual workshops, were homogeneously distributed among the population of Uxul through a central marketplace where everyone had access to them. It also means that there were very few (if any) attached ceramic workshops that were directly controlled by the

Additionally, there are three groups of ceramics (Chablekal, Achote, and Corona) which were represented only at one household each. However, because for each of these groups only one or two sherds were found in total within the extensively excavated households, such distributions cannot be considered representative, and the exclusive possession by single households of these groups is here considered the result of sampling bias rather than of actual 205

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands exclusive access to them. Furthermore, the groups with under 45 sherds total also do not yield further statistically significant patterns.

P = .001 < .01), meaning that poorer households tended to have larger proportions of eroded polychrome ceramics. With 1493 of such ceramic sherds found, this pattern is statistically significant and representative. However, it is unlikely that this pattern is linked directly to wealth, as the total proportions of polychrome ceramics are not statistically correlated with wealth (see 6.1.5.3 Polychromes below). Instead, this pattern is most likely due to post-depositional processes. Indeed, wealthier households in Uxul, by definition, were more voluminous (as construction volume was the proxy used in order to measure wealth). Part of these higher volumes came from the investment in massive stone construction on top of domestic platforms, sometimes with vaulted stone roofs. This means that any artifacts present in and around the house construction at the time of collapse would then have been covered in a large layer of construction debris, protecting it from the elements. In poorer households, on the other hand, such protection would have been much more minimal as there were no massive vaulted stone roofs and walls to collapse, and surfaces and artifacts left behind would have been much more vulnerable to weathering. This would probably have resulted in a higher proportion of eroded ceramics (including polychromes) whose specific groups could not be identified. This same process is also likely to be responsible for the moderate correlation between household rank and the proportion of unidentified ceramics (r = .62, P = .054 < .1). Indeed, the post-depositional processes described above would have resulted in a higher rate of fragmentation and erosion of al ceramics in poorer households, resulting in more difficulty identifying their group.

Most of the ceramic groups identified for the Late Classic period show no significant correlation between household rank and the relative proportion of that group of ceramics present in each of the ten extensively excavated households (see Table 6.17). Only the Yalcox group shows a strong correlation with household rank (r = .81, P = .005 < .01), meaning that it is found more frequently in poorer households. However, only five sherds belonging to the Yalcox group were found, with three in household group Ya’ab and two in household group M, meaning that this pattern can’t be taken as representative for the distribution of Yalcox ceramics, even though the correlation is statistically significant. Another strong correlation was found between household rank and the occurrence of eroded polychromes (r = .89, Table 6.17. Table showing the statistical correlations between household rank and the relative proportions of individual Late Classic ceramic groups per household Correlation with household rank

P-value

Tinaja

0.292

0.414

Encanto

–0.443

0.200

Infierno

0.216

0.549

Zacatal

0.283

0.428

Palmar

–0.257

0.474

Sayan

–0.217

0.546

Saxche

0.010

0.978

Juleki

–0.257

0.474

Becanchen

–0.205

0.568

Sibal

–0.195

0.590

Molino

0.100

0.784

Traino

–0.207

0.566

Chimbote

–0.104

0.776

Egoista

–0.051

0.888

Yalcox

0.810***

0.005

Chablekal

–0.205

0.569

Achote

–0.229

0.524

Corona

0.059

0.872

Policromos Erosionados

0.889***

0.001

No designado

0.623*

0.054

Group

While the distributions of most of the ceramic groups are not directly linked to household wealth, and there is a high degree of similarity in the groups each household had access to, there is variation in the diversity of ceramic groups present at each of the households. Indeed, while none of the household groups owned all of the groups identified for the Late Classic period, palace group K was the group with the most diverse assemblage: 15 out of the 20 groups were found here, while each of the other groups owned between 10 and 13 of them. While there is no statistically significant correlation between the diversity of groups and household rank (r = –.16, P = .67 > .1), it is remarkable that the palace complex had the most diverse ceramic assemblage of the extensively excavated households. 6.1.5.2. Distribution of ceramics from various sources: chemical analysis of Late Classic ceramics 6.1.5.2.1. Chemical analysis of ceramics using pXRF Sourcing studies of archaeological materials typically examine how materials moved from a unique geographical origin, allowing for movement from the source to its deposition to be precisely defined (Emmitt et al. 2018, 422). This requires knowledge of both the source and the location of the abandoned artifact, as well as for the source

* Correlation is significant at the 0.1 level (2-tailed) ** Correlation is significant at the 0.05 level (2-tailed) *** Correlation is significant at the 0.01 level (2-tailed)

206

Household Economy to be distinct from others so that artifacts can be uniquely associated with it. However, when the actual sources of materials are not known, and artifacts can’t be linked directly to geographical locations, there are still a number of inferences that can be made about human and material movement (Emmitt et al. 2018, 422). This is often the case for ceramic artifacts, including in Uxul, when specific sources for clays and tempers have not been identified, and their chemical compositions are unknown. Insights can then still be gained from the differentiation between unknown sources and the study of their deposition in the archaeological context (Emmitt et al. 2018).

the window (Emmitt et al. 2018, 423). Portable XRF spectrometry has a lower sensitivity and is capable of detecting fewer elements than destructive methods (Forster et al. 2011, 389). Lighter elements (with an atomic number lower than 26 (Fe)) in particular tend to be affected by this limitation (Aimers, Farthing, and Shugar 2012; Emmitt et al. 2018, 423; Forster et al. 2011, 392; Speakman et al. 2011, 3484; Tykot et al. 2013). However, specific calibrations can compensate for this effect to a degree for specific types of materials (Aimers, Farthing, and Shugar 2012, 424; Emmitt et al. 2018, 423; Helfert 2013; Helfert and Böhme 2010; Tykot et al. 2013). Additionally, because light elements tend to be particularly affected by the presence of air between the measuring window and the surface of the artifact, the effect can be minimized by taking measurements of surfaces that are convex or as flat as possible (a degree of roughness is acceptable and does not affect light elements excessively) and by avoiding concave surfaces in particular (Forster et al. 2011, 392). Such precautions and calibrations then allow for the use of the concentrations of lighter elements in the analysis of source identification through chemical composition (Helfert 2013; Helfert and Böhme 2010).

Unlike chemically homogeneous materials such as obsidian, which are often considered ideal candidates for chemical sourcing (see 6.2.2 Sourcing the obsidian of Uxul: chemical analysis using pXRF), ceramics are anthropogenic composite materials, meaning that a single vessel may be composed of multiple clays and tempers from a number of different sources (Emmitt et al. 2018, 423). However, despite the variation of ceramic materials related to production, aspects such as their method of manufacture, the clay and temper used, and firing sources, the potential for ceramic sourcing based on raw material chemical composition has long been recognized (Shepard 1936).

While such issues make pXRF measurements somewhat less precise than destructive methods, meaning that patterns of geochemical sourcing tend to be coarse, and some subgroups of artifacts may be missed when relying only on pXRF chemical readings (Tanasi et al. 2017, 223; Tykot et al. 2013, 242–43), useful patterns can still be obtained and significant differences detected allowing valuable insight into the movement and trade of ancient ceramic artifacts. When proper precautions are taken to compensate for calibration issues and the heterogeneity of the material examined, pXRF allows for accurate chemical composition analysis (Forster et al. 2011). While measurement and calibration issues can mean that chemical analysis results obtained through pXRF spectrometry are not directly comparable to those obtained through destructive methods, measurements are consistent and internally comparable within a given sample.

Techniques that have typically been used for ceramic sourcing, such as XRF, ICP-MS, INAA, and thin-section petrography, while useful and accurate, are destructive and labor-intensive, resulting in relatively small numbers of sherd typically being analyzed (Emmitt et al. 2018, 423; Tykot et al. 2013). The recent development of portable XRF machines (pXRF) has allowed for non-destructive analysis requiring less sample preparation time, and therefore larger numbers of sampled objects that can be examined relatively quickly and cheaply (Aimers, Farthing, and Shugar 2012, 423; Emmitt et al. 2018, 423; Forster et al. 2011; Tanasi et al. 2017, 222; Tykot et al. 2013, 238). However, testing ceramics with a portable XRF spectrometer is also, in some aspects, more complex than when using destructive methods. When a sherd is tested using destructive methods, it is typically processed to be homogenized and representative of the whole ceramic matrix, sometimes also removing inclusions. With pXRF, however, the sampling includes all clays and inclusions within the detector window of the machine, but nothing outside of it, making measurements sensitive to internal heterogeneity of the sherd (Aimers, Farthing, and Shugar 2012, 423–24; Emmitt et al. 2018, 423; Tanasi et al. 2017, 222–23). This can be compensated for, however, by taking multiple readings over different portions of the surface and/or break of the artifact (Emmitt et al. 2018, 423; Forster et al. 2011, 390; Tykot et al. 2013, 238).

While the use of pXRF on ceramics has been controversial and subject to debate, new studies have found that it can be useful if properly calibrated, and that it is applicable to ceramic sourcing (see for example Aimers, Farthing, and Shugar 2012; Emmitt et al. 2018; Forster et al. 2011; Helfert 2013; Helfert and Böhme 2010; Speakman et al. 2011; Tanasi et al. 2017; Tykot et al. 2013). Even when distinctive sources of clay are not known, and movement from a source to the place of deposition can’t be studied directly, groups of artifacts that are geochemically different from each other can be identified with a good, though not perfect, resolution (Aimers, Farthing, and Shugar 2012; Emmitt et al. 2018, 430; Tykot et al. 2013, 243).

Furthermore, because of the rough and/or curved nature of the surface of most sherds, as well as the absence of a vacuum, the number of elements that are accurately measured with a pXRF spectrometer is reduced because of the air-path interfering with the measurement within

6.1.5.2.2. Chemical analysis of the Uxul sample The goal of performing pXRF measurements of Uxul ceramics was to identify and characterize the participation 207

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands of individual household groups in common or distinct exchange networks. The chemical analysis aims to identify the chemical signatures of the ceramics and group them into single-source groups. The goal here is not to determine the actual physical source of the ceramics, as the reference materials needed for such a study were not available, but rather to study the access different households had to ceramics being distributed in Uxul from different sources and manufacturers. In order to do this, a sample was selected of the ceramics found at each of the household groups that were extensively excavated at Uxul: Ak’, Baak, G, K, K’áak’, M, Ma’ax, Pu’uk, Wob, and Ya’ab.

the other ceramics, known to be of distinct origins. This helps with both the delineation of single-source clusters in the resulting graphs, since two sources that should have distinct chemical compositions are already known, as well as, potentially, with the identification of sources as local or non-local. The available collection of ceramics at the Uxul lab-house in Constitución was composed of a limited selection of representative sherds, kept there with the aim of building a number of reference collections. The main proportion of the sherds found at Uxul, and analyzed and recorded at the lab, was reburied at the site, following INAH guidelines. While the remaining collection was large enough to select a significant sample, it was not possible to select equal numbers of the different types for each household. As a result, some of the household groups are over- or underrepresented for some of the types tested (see Table 6.18). This can, however, be statistically compensated for, as the resulting selection allows to test the amount of variation present within the selected types.

In order to make a selection of ceramics, the type-variety classification system as established by Sara Dzul Góngora in the Uxul project was used as a base. A sample of six of the main types found within the considered households was selected to be measured using pXRF: • Encanto type: • Encanto Estriado • Tinaja types: • Tinaja Rojo • Chinja Impreso • Infierno types: • Infierno Negro • Carmelita Inciso • Sayan type: • Sayan Rojo sobre Crema

The pXRF measurements were conducted at the project house and storage facilities in Constitución, Campeche. All measurements were performed by Arne Schröder (University of Cologne, Germany) using a ‘Thermo Scientific Niton XL3t Goldd+’ pXRF analyzer (50 kV/2W/100μA maximum), provided by the Archaeological Institute of the University of Cologne, Germany. The measurements were taken using the AllGeo mode, including main, low, high, and light range measurements. The measurements were calibrated following the methodology and calibrations as developed specifically for the chemical analysis of archaeological ceramics by Helfert and Böhme (see Helfert 2013; Helfert and Böhme 2010).

Additionally, three types of polychrome ceramics were sampled: • Saxche Anaranjado Policromo • Palmar Naranja Policromo • Zacatal Crema Policromo Encanto and Tinaja ceramics were relatively coarse wares, while Infierno and Sayan ceramics, as well as the polychromes, had a finer-grained fabric. However, the ceramics were divided on the basis of stylistic characteristics rather than on their fabric. This also means that there is variation within ceramic types concerning characteristics such as their quality, temper, production techniques, firing environment, etc. So, while the ceramics can be divided on the basis of style, not much is known about their production, and no classification was made prior to this research concerning the possible common origins of ceramics.

In order to measure the chemical composition of the ceramic sherds, a piece was broken off each of them, creating a clean break that could be reliably measured using pXRF. In this way, any slip, paint, or residue present on the surface of the ceramic was not measured. Each sherd was measured three times for six minutes at a different spot on the newly created break in order to compensate for possible variations within the fabric as well as for the presence of particularly large pieces of temper. The average of the three measurements was then used each time to perform further analysis and group the sherds based on their chemical composition as a proxy for provenance.

The Chinja Impreso type is considered to be a more or less local type, due to its distinctive abundance at Uxul as opposed to other sites in the region (Dzul Góngora 2013, 449). Sayan Rojo sobre Crema, on the other hand, is considered to be of foreign origin, as it appears typically in the Río Bec and Chenes region further to the north (Dzul Góngora 2013, 449). These particular groups of ceramics have therefore been selected for pXRF analysis in order to provide a baseline of ceramics that are, unlike

Only pieces larger than 2 × 2 cm were selected, as for smaller pieces the risk of shattering it while taking off a fragment would have been too high. Ceramics that were less than 2mm thick were also avoided, as they would have been too thin to obtain an accurate reading on the fresh break. Pieces that had significant traces of erosion were not selected, as they carried the risk of elements having been lost unequally, due to elements of different weights being differently affected by erosion processes. 208

Household Economy Table 6.18. Table showing the numbers and types of the pXRF-tested ceramics for each household

Carmelita Inciso

Sayan Rojo Sobre Crema

Saxche Anaranjado

Palmar Naranja

Zacatal Crema

Polychromes

Infierno Negro

Sayan

Chinja Impreso

Infierno

Tinaja Rojo

Tinaja

Encanto Estriado

Encanto

Total

Ak’

1

2

2

2

2

–

–

4

4

17

Baak

1

2

2

2

3

–

–

–

–

11

G

2

2

2

3

3

–

3

–

–

15

K

2

2

2

2

2

–

3

4

4

21

K’áak’

3

2

3

2

1

2

1

–

–

14

M

2

2

3

2

1

–

4

–

–

14

Ma’ax

2

2

2

2

5

4

–

–

–

17

Pu’uk

2

2

2

2

–

–

–

–

–

8

Wob

2

2

–

2

1

–

1

4

3

15

Group

Ya’ab

2

2

2

2

2

–

2

–

–

12

Total

20

20

20

21

20

6

14

12

11

144

The results of the chemical analysis for each sample can be seen in Appendix 4. 6.1.5.2.3. Distinguishing individual ceramic sources In order to distinguish between individual sources of the clay used for the manufacture of ceramic vessels found in Uxul, the chemical compositions of the sherds obtained through pXRF measurements were examined and compared against each other visually using scatter plots (Emmitt et al. 2018; Helfert and Böhme 2010). This was done through the comparison of the measured values for the elements Magnesium (Mg), Silicon (Si), Calcium (Ca), Titanium (Ti), Iron (Fe), Nickel (Ni), and Rubidium (Rb). While there is overlap between clusters for each of the resulting comparison tables, their combination, together with the known origins for Chinja Impreso and Sayan ceramics, permits to distinguish between single-source groups with distinct chemical signatures. Furthermore, while the chemical groups often are not very clearly separated from each other in many of the scatter plots, the fact that all the samples included in each group are consistently clustered together in each of the plots confirms their single point of origin, as well as their difference from samples from other source clusters. The analysis of the concentrations of these elements thus permits the delineation of single-source groups.

Figure 6.1. Bivariate scatter plot of Magnesium and Calcium concentrations for ceramics measured by pXRF.

By plotting the concentrations of the elements Calcium and Magnesium on a bivariate plot (see Figure 6.1), some initial groupings of sherds with a similar chemical composition become visible. In particular, source I is clearly separated from the rest in this plot, with both low concentrations of Calcium and Magnesium. A separation of source II is also seen, with a large group of sherds having the highest amounts of Magnesium of all

the sherds tested here. The groupings of sources III and IV can be seen in this plot too, although they are not as clearly delineated, and the former has some overlap with what will later be identified as source VII. The groupings later delineated as sources VII and VIII also overlap in this graph. A grouping for source V is visible here as well, with relatively low degrees of Calcium and no Magnesium, 209

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands although the absence of any magnesium for this grouping makes its identification as a single-source group tenuous based solely on the present bivariate plot. Similarly, three sherds with the highest concentrations of Calcium and no Magnesium can be seen, and will be identified as source VI, although its separation from other groupings is not yet evident here. The remaining sherds showed no traces of Magnesium (it should be noted, though, that Magnesium is a very light element that can be difficult to detect with the pXRF machine in low quantities, so the absence of detected Magnesium does not necessarily mean a complete absence of the element) and relatively high amounts of Calcium, but they can’t be separated into single-source groupings on the basis of this bivariate plot.

however, still significant overlap between sources V, VI, VIII, IX, and X. Plotting the concentrations of the trace elements Nickel and Rubidium (see Figure 6.3) allows for a further resolution of some of the overlaps seen above. In particular, in this bivariate plot, source III is separated clearly again from source VII as well as the rest of the samples. Furthermore, this graph confirms the separation of source I as a clearly separate single-source cluster with high levels of Rubidium. It also shows the separation of a single sherd that contained no Nickel and very little Rubidium, which does not fit into any of the other groupings, and is considered separately as source X. The remaining sources II, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, and IX are overlapping on this bivariate plot.

Plotting the concentrations of Magnesium and Titanium (see Figure 6.2) allows to start resolving some of the overlaps seen above. In this graph the separation between source II and the rest of the sherds is seen more clearly than in the previous graph, confirming its status as a single source cluster. While source VII overlaps partially with source I here, its initial overlap with source III is resolved. Since source I has been identified as a separate source in the Mg-Ca plot where it did not overlap with source VII, the latter can now be confirmed as a single source cluster. There is also significant overlap between sources I, III, and IV. However, since source I is known to be a separate cluster, and sources III and IV did not overlap in the Mg-Ca plot, these can both be confirmed as separate single source clusters. In this graph, there is,

In order to obtain a better overview of the chemical composition of the tested sherds, it is useful to perform a Principal Components Analysis, including multiple chemical elements rather than just two. This was performed using IBM SPSS® Statistics software, using a KMO and Bartlett test of sphericity to analyze principal components, resulting in a dimension reduction to factors. First, I performed a Principal Components Analysis (PCA1) for the chemical elements Magnesium (Mg), Silicon (Si), Calcium (Ca), Titanium (Ti), Iron (Fe), Nickel (Ni), and Rubidium (Rb). By plotting the resulting Factors 1 and 3 on a bivariate plot (see Figure 6.4) groupings of samples become visible. First, the separate grouping for source I confirms its identification

Figure 6.2. Bivariate scatter plot of Magnesium and Titanium concentrations for ceramics measured by pXRF.

Figure 6.3. Bivariate scatter plot of Nickel and Rubidium concentrations for ceramics measured by pXRF.

210

Household Economy

Figure 6.4. Principal components graph (analysis 1) of the elements Si, Ti, Fe, Mg, Ca, Ni, and Rb for ceramics measured by pXRF (Barnard 2021, 149, Figure 10.5).

Figure 6.5. Principal components graph (analysis 2) of the elements Si, Mg, Ca, Ni, and Rb for ceramics measured by pXRF.

as a single source cluster. Similarly, the grouping of source III sherds, not overlapping with any of the source VII samples anymore (although there is a slight overlap with source IX), confirms its identification as a single source cluster as well. Source V is here also separated from the rest of the samples, confirming its identification as a single source cluster. Source II can clearly be seen on this graph, separating from the main cluster, although it shows some overlap with source IV, as well as with the single sherd identified as belonging to source X. Sources VI, VII, VIII, and IX are overlapping in this graph.

clusters, is systematically grouped together internally, confirming their identification as single source clusters. Because source X consists of only a single sherd, it is unclear whether this sherd actually represents the existence of a separate source from which ceramics were rare at Uxul, or whether this is a chemical outlier that actually belonged to one of the other sources identified. Only the sources called VIII (14 sherds) and IX (64 sherds) consistently overlap in each of the graphs, meaning that they could not be differentiated from each other. The reason for their differentiation here is not in fact based on their chemical compositions. Instead, Source VIII represents most of the Chinja Impreso ceramics (except for those that fell consistently within the chemical groupings of sources II and VII). This is because these ceramics are known to be of local origin, and were therefore used as a reference in the identification of ceramic sources. However, the fact that they consistently overlap with the grouping of source IX indicates that these two sources are in fact one and the same, and should be considered together as a single source cluster. While the source VIII-IX overlaps with other source clusters in each of the graphs considered here (VI and X in the Mg-Ca plot; V, VI, and X in the Mg-Ti plot; II, IV, V, VI, and VII in the Ni-Rb plot; III, IV, VI, and VII in the PCA1 plot; III, IV, and VII in the PCA2 plot), the fact that it doesn’t overlap with any one of those source clusters in each of the graphs confirms the identification of source VIII-IX as a separate single source cluster. Thus,

A second Principal Component Analysis (PCA2) for only the chemical elements Magnesium (Mg), Silicon (Si), Calcium (Ca), Nickel (Ni), and Rubidium (Rb) shows a similar distribution (see Figure 6.5), except for some overlap of sources III and VII, and it allows for the separation of a small cluster corresponding to source VI, confirming it as a separate single source cluster. Sources I and V are here also clearly separated from the rest. While there are groupings of sherds whose chemical compositions show overlap in each of the graphs presented here, their combination permits for the identification of those sources. The sources representing separate clusters that were identified using these graphs are sources I (5 sherds), II (34 sherds), III (6 sherds), IV (7 sherds), V (4 sherds), VI (3 sherds), VII (6 sherds), and X (1 sherd). Each of these groups, even when overlapping with larger 211

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands in total, nine separate sources were identified within the sample of ceramics selected for chemical analysis with a pXRF spectrometer for Late Classic Uxul.

present sample were connected to the same single source cluster identified as source III. No other ceramics tested at Uxul were linked to the same source, indicating that only Sayan ceramics were imported from this particular source. Furthermore, it shows that all Sayan ceramics in Uxul probably came from a single production site, using a single source of clay. It is possible, of course, that other types of ceramics that were not chemically tested were also imported from this source. It is also possible that other ceramics (but not Sayan types) were imported from the same region but were made with a different clay source, meaning that these can’t be linked to each other.

It should be noted, however, that since the sources identified here can’t be linked to their actual geochemical point of origin, it can’t be determined whether the sources correspond to different production loci. Indeed, it is possible (maybe even probable) that multiple producers of ceramics used the same clay source to make their ceramics, meaning that ceramics from multiple individual producers may be represented within a single source. On the other hand, it is also possible that a single producer used several types of clay from different sources that were located close by, but had distinct chemical signatures. A producer may have used clay from different sources to make different types of vessels, for example, leading ceramics made by the same producer to be included in different source clusters. Additionally, producers may have mixed clays from different sources, making their attribution to a single source ambiguous, and even possibly creating a separate source cluster based on chemical composition.

Another type of ceramics at Uxul for which an origin is known is Chinja Impreso, which are known to have been made locally within the region (though not necessarily in Uxul itself) (Dzul Góngora 2013, 449). The Chinja ceramics that were chemically analyzed here were connected to three different sources of clay: sources II, VII, and VIII-IX. This indicates not only that Chinja Impreso ceramics were manufactured at several locations within the larger Uxul region, using at least three distinct sources of local clay, but also that the other ceramics linked to those sources had local origins as well. Clay from source II was also used to make relatively large quantities of Tinaja Rojo and Infierno Negro ceramics, as well as Carmelita Inciso ceramics and Saxche Anaranjado, Palmar Naranja, and Zacatal Crema polychromes. Thus, a wide variety of different types of ceramics, including both utilitarian and polychromes, were made with clay from source II and distributed within Uxul. Source VII clay was used for the manufacture, apart from Chinja Impreso ceramics, of Encanto Estriado and Tinaja Rojo ceramics, as well as Zacatal Crema polychromes. The local source VIII-IX produced Encanto Estriado, Tinaja Rojo, Infierno Negro, and Carmelita Inciso ceramic types besides China Impreso ones, as well as Saxche Anaranjado, Palmar Naranja, and Zacatal Crema polychromes.

6.1.5.2.4. Ceramic types and their sources Because no reference collections of clay from the larger region in which Uxul is located are available to compare the ceramics that were tested here against, distinguishing these sources from each other does not allow for the identification of their actual points of origin. However, the known local or foreign origins for certain types of ceramics (through ceramic seriations) allow for the identification of some relatively local sources that were located somewhat close to Uxul, as well as for some that were likely foreign. The relationships between chemical sources of ceramics and the types tested at Uxul are shown in Table 6.19. First of all, it is known that Sayan Rojo sobre Crema ceramics were foreign to Uxul, originating from the Río Bec and Chenes region further to the north (Dzul Góngora 2013, 449). All of the Sayan ceramics tested in the

A wide variety of ceramics was manufactured within the more or less local Uxul region (although exactly how

Table 6.19. Table showing the relationship between ceramic types and the sources they came from Type

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII-IX

X

Encanto Estriado

–

–

–

1

3

–

2

14

–

Tinaja Rojo

–

8

–

1

–

–

1

10

–

Chinja Impreso

–

4

–

–

–

–

2

14

–

Infierno Negro

–

8

–

1

–

1

–

10

1

Carmelita Inciso

–

4

–

3

1

2

–

10

–

Sayan Rojo sobre Crema

–

–

6

–

–

–

–

–

–

Saxche Anaranjado

1

5

–

–

–

–

–

8

–

Palmar Naranja

2

2

–

1

–

–

–

7

–

Zacatal Crema

2

3

–

–

–

–

1

5

–

Total

5

34

6

7

4

3

6

78

1

212

Household Economy large this region is and how far away from the city these clay sources were found is unknown), including both utilitarian and polychrome types. In fact, the only type of tested ceramics that did not originate from at least one of the local sources was the foreign Sayan Rojo sobre Crema type, confirming both its known foreign origin, as well as the ability of pXRF-analysis to distinguish meaningfully between the chemical signatures of ceramics from different sources. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the three sources that were identified as local because they produced Chinja Impreso ceramics represent by far the largest proportion of the ceramics tested. Individually, sources II (34 sherds) and VIII-IX (78 sherds) were the sources that were by far the best represented in the present sample. Together, sources II, VII, and VIII-IX represent 82% (118 sherds) of the total sample, indicating that by far the largest proportion of ceramics circulating in Uxul was manufactured locally (or at least within the smaller surrounding region).

to Uxul. These sources are also the least frequent in the present sample, representing only 1% to 3% of the total each. The only source that is represented only by polychrome ceramics in this sample is source I, including 1 Saxche Anaranjada sherd, 2 Palmar Naranja sherds, and 2 Zacatal Crema sherds. This source seems to have produced no utilitarian ceramics, at least for trade with Uxul. Remarkably, all five of these polychrome sherds were found in the palace complex K, indicating that they may have been produced either on commission by a specific manufacturer, or imported from a non-local source specifically for the rulers of Uxul, for example through gift-giving (see 6.1.5.3 Polychromes for a more in-depth discussion of the implications of this observation). Except for Sayan Rojo sobre Crema ceramics, each of the types included in the present sample was produced at multiple locations, using clay from at least three distinct clay sources. No source except for sources III and X were specialized in a single type of ceramics, source III corresponding to the Sayan type, and source X only including a single sherd, meaning this “specialization” pattern is not representative. Only three further sources seem to have specialized to a degree, with sources V and VI only including utilitarian, and source I only polychrome ceramics (although this does not necessarily mean other types of ceramics were not produced at these sources, simply that they are not represented in this sample because they either were not brought to Uxul or correspond to types not included in this sample). It can be concluded, then, that Uxul received its ceramics from a variety of different production sites, and that most production sites produced a wide variety of ceramics for trade.

Sources I, IV, V, VI, and X do not include any ceramics that are known to be of either local or foreign origin. Encanto Estriado, Tinaja Rojo, Infierno Negro, and Carmelita Inciso ceramics, as well as the three polychrome types occurred throughout the wider Southern Maya Lowlands region during the Late Classic period, and are not tied to a more specific area. This means that any of these sources may be either of local or foreign origin. Sources II, IV, VII, and VIII-IX all produced both utilitarian and polychrome ceramics. A widespread pattern is found for the Late Classic period in the Maya Lowlands, where the production and distribution of polychrome ceramics are separate from those of utilitarian ceramics (Ball 1993; Kovacevich 2013, 270; Reents-Budet et al. 2000, 111; Shaw 2012, 135). It is often assumed that the elite were responsible for the production and distribution, through mechanisms such as personal specialization, direct control, and/or attached labor, of expensive polychrome ceramics. Utilitarian ceramics, on the other hand, would have been under less direct control, and more subject to market exchange processes. However, the pattern observed here suggests that several types of polychrome ceramics were routinely made in conjunction with utilitarian ones. While it can’t be verified that the same individuals or workshops made both types of ceramics, it is at least confirmed that polychrome and utilitarian ceramics used in Uxul typically came from the same sources. The present data do not suggest or confirm any systematic separation between the production of high-quality expensive polychrome types and cheaper utilitarian ones.

6.1.5.2.5. Household groups and their ceramic sources The distribution of ceramic sherds tested using pXRF throughout the extensively excavated household groups can be seen in Table 6.20. In each of the household groups, the local source VIII-IX represented the largest proportion of ceramics, ranging from 36% to 83%. Only in group Baak was it not the absolute largest proportion, since as many source II ceramics were registered there. The second most abundant source of ceramics for each of the groups is the local source II, representing between 19% and 40% of the tested ceramics at each of the groups. Only in group Pu’uk were no source II sherds identified, although the low number of total sherds tested for this household means that this may not be representative of the actual proportions of this source at the household.

Sources V (4 sherds), VI (3 sherds), and X (1 sherd) are the only sources identified here that included only utilitarian ceramics, and no polychrome types. This does not necessarily mean, of course, that these sources produced no polychromes at all, as there are polychrome types that were not tested in this sample, but it does seem likely that they did not produce any of the most abundant polychrome types present at Uxul. In fact, none of these sources seems to have provided any significant portion of polychromes

The remaining ceramic sources occur almost all sporadically at each of the households, with no more than one or two sherds identified per household. These low numbers and sporadic occurrence also means that the distribution of these sources is probably not representative of the actual distribution of ceramics originating from these sources in each of the households. None except sources I 213

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Table 6.20. Ceramic sources present in the pXRF-analyzed sample at the extensively excavated household groups I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII-XI

X

Total measured

Ak’

–

4

–

2

–

–

1

10

–

17

Baak

–

4

–

1

–

1

–

4

1

11

G

–

6

–

–

–

–

–

9

–

15

K

5

4

–

–

1

–

1

10

–

21

K’áak’

–

3

2

–

1

1

–

7

–

14

M

–

3

–

–

1

1

2

7

–

14

Ma’ax

–

4

4

1

–

–

1

7

–

17

Pu’uk

–

–

–

1

1

–

1

5

–

8

Wob

–

4

–

2

–

–

–

9

–

15

Ya’ab

–

2

–

–

–

–

–

10

–

12

Total

5

34

6

7

4

3

6

78

1

144

and X (which only includes one sherd) was exclusive to any of the households, however.

coefficient reveals a moderate measure of similarity between the household groups based on the sources their ceramics originated from (see Table 6.21 for the full similarity matrix). The average similarity coefficient is 152 out of 200, with 91 being the lowest pair-wise value (between groups Baak and Pu’uk) and 188 being the highest (between groups Ak’ and Wob’). Group Baak has the least in common with the other groups, with an average similarity coefficient of 130 out of 200, followed closely by group Pu’uk with 133 on average. This means that while there are many similarities between the household groups in the ceramic sources they had access to, there are also significant differences between them.

Only sources I and III show unusual distributions that are probably the result of actual statistical patterns rather than merely low numbers. Source I occurred only in palace complex K, suggesting it was exclusive to the rulers of Uxul. This exclusivity was probably linked to processes formally excluding other households from access to them (they are unlikely to have been much more expensive, which would have limited the access of poorer households through non-formal market processes, since other households owned ceramics of the same types that were not visually distinguished from these), meaning that they were likely excluded from normal market exchange, and the rulers instead obtained them directly through different processes (see 6.1.5.3 Polychromes below for a more in-depth discussion of this source). Source III ceramics, corresponding to the foreign Sayan Rojo sobre Cream type, were only identified in groups K’áak’ (2 sherds) and Ma’ax (4 sherds). However, this overrepresentation is due to sampling error because the only Sayan ceramics that were tested in this sample came from these household groups, not because they were the only groups that had access to them (see 6.1.5.1 Distribution of stylistic groups above).

This should not necessarily be taken as a sign that the different sources identified here were not equally part of a centralized market exchange system, however. Indeed, as discussed above, most of the sources identified using chemical analysis included less than 7 sherds in total, and no more than 2 per individual household. This means that their distribution is likely due to sampling error, and that any statistical differences between the households in their access to them are likely to be insignificant. In fact, if we consider only the two sources for which larger numbers of ceramics were identified and whose distribution is more statistically significant and less likely to be due to sampling error (i.e. sources II and VIII-IX), the average Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity obtained is 171 out of 200, with the lowest pair-wise value being 100 (between groups Baak and Pu’uk) and 200 the highest (between groups Ak’ and K, as well as between groups K’áak’ and M). Group Pu’uk has the least in common with the other household groups, with an average similarity coefficient of only 135 out of 200, followed by group Baak with an average of 154, and group Ya’ab with an average of 165. It should be noted, however, that the low numbers of sherds that were included in the present sample for all three of these household groups (only 8 in total for group Pu’uk, 11 for group Baak, and 12 for group Ya’ab) means

In order to better understand the distribution of ceramics from different sources in the extensively excavated households of Uxul and the role of market exchange processes in this distribution, I performed a BrainerdRobinson coefficient of similarity (see Cowgill 1990; Peeples 2011; Robinson 1951). However, because the distribution of source I and source III ceramics is known to be due to mechanisms other than market exchange, I excluded these from the similarity analysis. This allows for an evaluation of the inclusion in market processes for the ceramics from the sources whose distribution has not yet been explained above. The Brainerd-Robinson 214

Household Economy

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Table 6.21. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the sources of Late Classic ceramics (excluding sources I and III) they had access to. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)

–

138.0

164.7

176.5

163.7

154.6

181.9

152.9

188.2

151.0

Baak

138.0

–

145.5

122.7

139.4

129.9

149.7

90.9

144.2

106.1

G

164.7

145.5

–

170.0

166.7

142.9

169.2

120.0

173.3

153.3

K

176.5

122.7

170.0

–

179.2

167.9

170.2

150.0

170.0

158.3

K’áak’

163.7

139.4

166.7

179.2

–

171.4

157.7

133.3

166.7

150.0

M

154.6

129.9

142.9

167.9

171.4

–

158.2

139.3

142.9

133.3

Ma’ax

181.9

149.7

169.2

170.2

157.7

158.2

–

138.5

176.4

141.0

Pu’uk

152.9

90.9

120.0

150.0

133.3

139.3

138.5

–

145.0

125.0

Wob

188.2

144.2

173.3

170.0

166.7

142.9

176.4

145.0

–

153.3

Ya’ab

151.0

106.1

153.3

158.3

150.0

133.3

141.0

125.0

153.3

–

Average

163.5

129.6

156.2

162.7

158.7

148.9

160.3

132.8

162.2

141.3

Ak’

that their samples may not be entirely representative. In fact, when these three groups are ignored, the lowest pairwise similarity coefficient is 177 (between groups G and K), and the overall average coefficient of similarity rises to 190 out of 200. While there are still some differences between the groups in their access to the two main sources of ceramics, their distribution is remarkably homogeneous. It is likely, then, that the distribution among the households of ceramics from these sources can be linked to centralized market exchange where they were available to everyone, regardless of socio-economic status, following models of market exchange based on the distributional approach (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016; Hirth 1998; Hutson 2021; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 87; Shaw 2012, 120). The differences between the remaining sources, as well as between groups Baak, Pu’uk, and the other household groups, are probably due to sampling error, meaning that their participation in such a centralized market exchange can neither be confirmed nor disproven.

while wealthy households could afford imported vessels at higher rates. Since this is a source from which a large variety of ceramic types issued, this did not impact the ability of poorer households to own similar proportions of those types as wealthier households, however (see 6.1.5.1 Distribution of stylistic groups above). It should be noted, as discussed above, that the distribution of source I (the source of polychromes that was exclusive to the palace complex) and source III (the source of Sayan ceramics) are known to be related to mechanisms other than market exchange. The distribution of source I ceramics was most likely related to different modes of Table 6.22. Table showing the statistical correlations between household rank and the relative proportions of individual Late Classic ceramic sources identified per household Correlation with household rank

P-value

I

–0.229

0.524

II

–0.049

0.892

III

–0.013

0.971

IV

–0.383

0.275

V

–0.306

0.390

VI

–0.313

0.378

VII

–0.334

0.332

VIII–IX

0.721**

0.019

X

–0.157

0.664

Source

Most of the sources identified here, even when they were unevenly distributed, show no significant correlation between household rank and the relative proportion of that source of ceramics present in each of the ten extensively excavated households considered here (see Table 6.22). Only source VIII-IX, the largest source identified in the sample, shows a strong correlation with household rank (r = .72, P = .02 < .05), meaning that it was found more frequently in poorer households. The fact that this was a local source, which seems to have been the main source of Uxul ceramics of many different types, makes it likely that it was also (one of) the cheapest sources of ceramics available at Uxul, since it was not scarce and transport costs would have been low. It would make sense, then, that poorer households in particular were more likely to own large proportions of ceramics from this cheap source, rather than foreign ones which would have been more expensive,

* Correlation is significant at the 0.1 level (2-tailed) ** Correlation is significant at the 0.05 level (2-tailed) *** Correlation is significant at the 0.01 level (2-tailed)

215

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands exchange, while the distribution of Sayan in the present sample is the result of sampling error, rather than of the distribution of Sayan ceramics in general. This means that they may also skew the relative proportions of the ceramics from other sources, possibly obscuring patterns of distribution of those ceramics that were probably distributed through market exchange. However, when these two sources are not considered in the present sample, the analysis of the correlations with household rank doesn’t change significantly. In this case, source VIII-IX remains the only source of ceramics for which the distribution shows any significant correlation with household rank (r = .71, P = .02 < .05). This confirms that the pattern of distribution seen above was likely due to mechanisms of market exchange, rather than to the presence of ceramics whose distribution in the present sample is known to have been related to different mechanisms diminishing the relative proportions of ceramics from this source in some wealthy households. This confirms that poorer households were more likely to have obtained relatively cheap local ceramics, while wealthier households were likely able to obtain more expensive ceramics from more remote sources at a higher rate through market exchange.

they had access to (r = –.70, P = .03 < .05), meaning that wealthier households tend to have owned ceramics from more different sources. This confirms the observation that it seems to have been easier for wealthier people to obtain ceramics from non-local sources, which would probably have been more expensive because of their transport costs and relative scarcity, while poorer households were more likely to obtain their ceramics from the cheapest local source. 6.1.5.3. Polychromes Studies on Late Classic Maya ceramics have often argued that there were two separate production and exchange systems, with utilitarian ceramics being separate from high-quality polychromes, the latter of which were controlled by the elite and used as status markers (Ball 1993; Kovacevich 2013, 270; Reents-Budet 1998; ReentsBudet et al. 2000, 111; Shaw 2012, 135). According to this model, the two systems would have been characterized by distinct modes of exchange, with the fancier ceramics being distributed through gift-giving and tribute, while utilitarian ones would have been traded locally and regionally.

The differences between the households in the diversity of the sources they had access to support this pattern. There are significant differences in the number of different ceramic sources that are represented in each of the households, with most of them having had access to at least 4 or 5 different sources, while in group Wob only 3 were represented, and only 2 sources identified in groups G and Ya’ab. In fact, there is a strong inverse correlation between household rank and the diversity of the sources

At Uxul, Late Classic polychrome ceramic types are represented by ceramics belonging to the Zacatal, Palmar, Sayan, Saxche, Sibal, Juleki, Paixban and Batcab (types of the Palmar group), Chimbote, and Azcorra (types of the Sayan group) types, as well as eroded and nonidentified polychromes (see Table 6.23). Together, these represent 1.4% of the total ceramics in the examined household groups. In each of the groups, polychrome

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Total

Table 6.23. Distribution of specific Late Classic polychrome types found at the different households

Zacatal polychromes

126

88

131

243

15

129

105

7

3

339

1186

Palmar polychromes

71

35

37

200

5

61

44

8

3

30

494

Sayan polychromes

0

1

5

140

17

6

21

0

1

0

191

Saxche polychromes

23

2

26

62

7

12

3

6

1

14

156

Juleki polychromes

35

1

0

10

0

0

0

0

0

0

46

Paixban polychromes

6

5

1

15

2

0

1

0

0

0

30

Sibal polychromes

0

0

0

18

0

0

2

1

0

0

21

Chimbote polychromes

2

0

1

3

0

0

0

2

0

0

8

Batcab polychromes

0

2

0

5

0

0

0

0

0

0

7

Azcorra polychromes

1

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

0

0

2

No designado polychromes

17

0

0

3

0

20

1

0

0

38

79

No identificado polychromes

0

0

1

14

0

19

0

1

0

0

35

Eroded polychromes

69

56

124

230

31

147

51

15

14

721

1458

Total

350

190

326

944

77

394

228

40

22

1142

3713

Type

216

Household Economy

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Table 6.24. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the Late Classic polychrome ceramic types they had access to. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)

–

154.9

148.5

151.4

107.9

151.7

154.4

128.7

103.1

113.2

Baak

154.9

–

165.8

145.5

119.2

158.6

177.7

132.9

116.7

125.7

G

148.5

165.8

–

141.0

147.7

172.6

154.1

149.9

138.2

143.1

K

151.4

145.5

141.0

–

146.7

143.9

159.1

144.3

121.5

108.6

K’áak’

107.9

119.2

147.7

146.7

–

135.7

118.6

141.2

139.0

127.2

M

151.7

158.6

172.6

143.9

135.7

–

147.7

151.7

138.3

148.3

Ma’ax

154.4

177.7

154.1

159.1

118.6

147.7

–

122.7

111.0

112.7

Pu’uk

128.7

132.9

149.9

144.3

141.2

151.7

122.7

–

138.6

117.7

Wob

103.1

116.7

138.2

121.5

139.0

138.3

111.0

138.6

–

161.2

Ya’ab

113.2

125.7

143.1

108.6

127.2

148.3

112.7

117.7

161.2

–

Average

134.9

144.1

151.2

140.2

131.5

149.8

139.8

136.4

129.7

128.6

Ak’

ceramics represent between 0.5% and 3% of the total ceramic assemblage. Relative proportions of polychrome ceramics versus utilitarian were not systematically higher in wealthy households, however. On the contrary, poorer households tended to have somewhat higher proportions of polychrome ceramics, with a moderate correlation between polychrome proportions and household rank, though this is not a statistically significant trend (r = .52, P = .12 > .1).

Table 6.25. Table showing the statistical correlations between household rank and the relative amounts of individual Late Classic polychrome types (as a proportion of total polychrome ceramics) per household Correlation with household rank

P-value

Zacatal polychromes

0.132

0.716

Palmar polychromes

–0.705**

0.023

Sayan polychromes

–0.268

0.454

Saxche polychromes

–0.274

0.444

Juleki polychromes

–0.253

0.481

Paixban polychromes

–0.396

0.258

Sibal polychromes

–0.193

0.594

Chimbote polychromes

–0.101

0.782

Batcab polychromes

–0.255

0.476

Azcorra polychromes

–0.295

0.409

No designado polychromes

0.131

0.717

No identificado polychromes

–0.283

0.429

Eroded polychromes

0.522

0.122

Total polychromes

0.520

0.123

Type

A Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity (Cowgill 1990; Peeples 2011; Robinson 1951) applied to the extensively excavated domestic groups on the basis of the occurrence of different types of polychromes reveals a relatively low measure of similarity between them, significantly lower than for ceramic groups overall (see Table 6.24 for the complete similarity matrix). The average similarity coefficient is 139 out of 200, with 103 being the lowest pair-wise value (between groups Ak’ and Wob) and 178 the highest (between groups Baak and Ma’ax). The household that had the least in common with the others is group Ya’ab, with an average coefficient of similarity of 129 out of 200, meaning that it had less in common with the other groups than they did among each other. Overall, there was a wide range of degrees of similarity between the households in their polychrome assemblages, with many showing significant differences between them. While this pattern may not directly conform to the homogenizing effect predicted by models of market exchange (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 87; Shaw 2012, 120), this does not necessarily mean that polychromes were excluded from markets or that the elite had control over their distribution. Indeed, almost none of the individual polychrome types were directly correlated to household rank when taken as

* Correlation is significant at the 0.1 level (2-tailed) ** Correlation is significant at the 0.05 level (2-tailed) *** Correlation is significant at the 0.01 level (2-tailed)

a proportion of the total polychrome assemblage of each household (see Table 6.25). Only the Palmar polychromes show a strong inverse correlation with household rank 217

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands system in which everyone was free to buy as many highquality decorated vessels as they wanted and could afford.

(r = –.71, P = .02 < .05), meaning that wealthier households tended to have a higher proportion of Palmar polychromes as part of their polychrome collection. The Palmar polychromes did not exceed 21% of the total polychromes at any given household, however, meaning that, while they are among the most abundant polychromes at the site, they are not the most abundant. This means that wealthy households were better able to obtain Palmar polychromes than poor households, either because its prices were prohibitive or because its distribution was restricted and not freely accessible to everyone. It was not formally restricted to the wealthy, however, as each of the households did own at least some of these expensive polychromes.

There are a few notable exceptions to this pattern, however. The observation that most polychromes seem to have been part of a single market exchange sphere, the same one as for utilitarian ceramics, does not hold for all polychrome ceramics. The analysis using pXRF used to determine the chemical compositions of a sample of the Uxul ceramics (see 6.1.5.1 Household groups and their ceramic sources above) showed that some polychrome ceramics clearly originated from a unique source, which was probably non-local. Out of 144 samples, five ceramic sherds (2 Zacatal, 2 Palmar, and 1 Saxche) had a common chemical composition that was significantly different from all other samples, indicating that these five originated from the same source. All five were found within the context of the palace complex at Uxul, Group K. None of the other household groups considered in this analysis, including the wealthiest secondary elites, seem to have had access to ceramics of this origin. This observation is consistent with the idea that Maya elites appear to have had exclusive access to foreign high-quality polychromes through an exchange network that was different from the one through which other ceramics were distributed. That is to say that these ceramics were not part of a more general market system where anyone would have access to them, but instead may reflect the occurrence of gift-giving or special exchanges between the rulers of connected urban centers (Foias 2002, 233–34; Reents-Budet et al. 2000, 117; following Shaw 2012, 135). These polychromes were not visually distinguishable from polychromes of the same types found elsewhere at the site, however, meaning that they probably didn’t serve as special visual markers of status or as part of conspicuous consumption strategy or sumptuary goods. Instead, they simply reflect the existence, although sporadic, of a separate exchange sphere, exclusive to the ruling elite of Uxul.

There were also differences in how diverse the polychrome assemblages of the households were. Out of all of the households considered here, palace complex group K was the only context where all 13 of the polychrome types identified for the Late Classic period were found. All of the other households owned only between 5 and 8 different types of polychromes, with groups Wob and Ya’ab having the least diverse polychrome assemblages. While there is no statistically significant correlation between household rank and the diversity of their polychrome assemblage (r = –.37, P = .29 > .1), it is remarkable that the household group with the highest rank (group K) had the highest degree of polychrome diversity, while the one with the lowest rank in this sample (group Ya’ab) had one of the lowest. The occurrence of polychrome ceramics at household groups of different status shows that, although it is generally considered to be an expensive resource and therefore a marker of high status, at Uxul, anyone could have access to it. While the proportions of different types of polychromes are not equal for all households, and there are significant differences between the households, the distributions of most polychrome types are not correlated with household wealth, and even for the one type that is, they were not formally restricted to a socio-economic class. Furthermore, the fact that each of the household contexts had roughly similar relative proportions of polychrome versus utilitarian ceramics is consistent with models of marketplace-exchange (Barnhart 2005, 21; D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 240; Dahlin 2009, 352; Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155; Shaw 2012, 121). Indeed, not everyone may have been able to obtain these costly artifacts in the same absolute quantities, but similar relative proportions of household wealth were expended to obtain them. If polychrome and utilitarian ceramics had indeed been part of two separate exchange systems at Uxul, the relative proportions of polychromes would be expected to be much less similar, and highly skewed in favor of the wealthier households. In Uxul, polychromes were clearly not a restricted resource during the Late Classic, and the pattern seen here is consistent with most of the high-quality polychromes having been part of the same exchange sphere as other ceramics. Thus, it seems that most ceramics were part of a single market-exchange

It should be noted that the six other polychrome sherds (2 Zacatal, 2 Palmar, 2 Saxche) originating from the palace complex that were also tested using pXRF, were not differentiated from other ceramics in the same way. Instead, these corresponded to the same chemical groups that were identified for polychromes from other household contexts, suggesting that these were part of the same exchange system as polychromes obtained by the nonruling population. Thus, two separate exchange systems can be identified here. The rulers of Uxul seem to have had exclusive access to high-quality polychrome ceramics, possibly as part of a reciprocal gift-giving exchange sphere between polity rulers. But, at the same time, most of the high-quality polychromes of Uxul, probably originating from a more local production locus, circulated in an undifferentiated exchange system where anyone could and did have access to them, including rulers, secondary elites, and commoners. While there are differences between the households in their numbers and types of polychrome vessels, almost 218

Household Economy none of these differences seem to be directly related to wealth. The relatively low Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity for the polychrome types can be explained by the differences in diversity of polychrome assemblages, as well as by the existence of different modes of exchange being responsible for the distribution of some of the polychromes. Indeed, it seems that the palace complex K had access to a separate source of polychrome ceramics that were not part of a generalized market exchange system. Additionally, the distribution of Palmar polychromes was related to wealth, meaning that these may either have been prohibitively expensive for poorer portions of Uxul’s population to obtain in equal quantities or that they may have been controlled to a degree by the elite, though they were not formally restricted to them. Furthermore, group Ya’ab seems to have played a specific role with regard to polychrome vasos (see 6.1.5.4 Distribution of vessel forms below), further differentiating it from the other

households. Overall, this means that there were mechanisms that drove the differences in the distribution of Late Classic polychromes, some of which are related to wealth and status, others to individual household preferences or activities. Some of the polychrome ceramics seem to not have been part of the centralized market exchange system. However, the lack of correlations with household wealth, as well as the lack of restricted types for the rest of the polychrome ceramics indicates that most probably were traded in the same market exchange system as utilitarian ceramics, with only some exceptions to this rule. 6.1.5.4. Distribution of vessel forms Overall, 23 different vessel forms were identified within the ceramic assemblage of the Late Classic period (see Table 6.26). In each of the households, ollas were the most abundant category, representing 66% of total ceramics,

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Total

Table 6.26. Distribution of the different Late Classic vessel shapes found at the extensively excavated households

Olla

12655

3796

8090

51239

6644

52043

8148

3339

3170

25689

174813

Cazuela

3233

811

741

6490

474

8983

551

394

512

2872

25061

Cajete hondo

2291

630

1062

2331

349

7252

726

249

204

5080

20174

Cajete

1655

339

767

3982

264

5341

558

243

168

2316

15633

Cuenco

984

486

596

4735

456

2767

740

204

339

1395

12702

Cazuela boca restringida

372

4

1146

863

459

342

950

221

5

5610

9972

Vaso

172

97

176

425

19

845

136

21

3

1483

3377

Cajete abierto

138

24

163

453

126

3

165

77

140

208

1497

Platón

193

24

50

385

23

621

37

12

22

62

1429

Cajete silueta compuesta

32

7

22

106

0

334

6

3

5

32

547

Tecomate

66

1

2

248

8

44

10

13

3

67

462

Tambor

59

3

3

153

4

7

15

7

1

87

339

Cajete insensario

0

0

1

30

0

0

13

1

0

0

45

Cuenco abierto

1

0

0

44

0

0

0

0

0

0

45

Olla miniatura

0

0

0

9

0

10

0

0

0

0

19

Botellon miniatura

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

14

0

0

15

Vaso barril

0

0

3

0

0

0

4

0

0

0

7

Botellon

0

0

0

0

4

0

0

1

0

0

5

Candelero

0

0

0

3

0

2

0

0

0

0

5

Cazuela miniature

4

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

4

Cajete corto

0

0

1

1

0

0

0

0

0

0

2

Venenera

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

1

?

0

0

0

0

0

10

0

0

0

3

13

21855

6222

12823

71497

8830

78604

12060

4800

4572

44904

266167

Vessel form

Total

219

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands and between 57% and 75% of the sherds at the individual households. Cazuelas, cajetes hondos, cajetes, cuencos, cazuelas de bocas restringidas, and vasos were the other most common forms in descending order, though much less abundant than ollas, as they represent only between 9% and 1% of the total assemblage each. All other vessel forms represent less than 1% of the total.

different vessel forms are related to their functions (see Table 6.1). Most of the vessel forms found in the ten extensively excavated households considered here show no correlation with household rank in their abundance (see Table 6.28). In fact, only cazuelas de bocas restringidas (r = .89, P = .001 < .01) (which would have been used mainly for cooking and/or serving food) and vasos (r = .87, P = .001 < .01) (mainly used for drinking) showed a strong statistically significant correlation with household rank, meaning that they were more common in poorer households than in wealthy ones. Platóns (used mainly for eating and/or serving), on the other hand, showed a moderate inverse correlation with household rank (r = –.60, P = .07 < .1), meaning these were more likely to be found in wealthy households.

A Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity (Cowgill 1990; Peeples 2011; Robinson 1951) applied to the extensively excavated domestic groups on the basis of the occurrence of different forms of ceramic vessels reveals a moderate measure of similarity between them (see Table 6.27 for the complete similarity matrix). The average similarity coefficient is 174 out of 200, with 152 being the lowest value (between groups Wob and Ya’ab), and 187 the highest (between groups G and Ma’ax). While these numbers are not low, they mean that the similarity between the households during the Late Classic was significantly lower in terms of the forms of ceramics they had than in terms of the ceramic groups they had access to. The household that had the least in common with the other ones is Ya’ab, with an average coefficient of similarity of 165 out of 200, meaning that it had less in common with the other groups than they did among each other. Still, the pair-wise similarity coefficients are consistently relatively high, showing significant degrees of similarity between the households.

While it is expected that both poor and wealthy households were involved in the activities of serving food, eating, and drinking, this pattern may indicate that they may have used different vessel forms for doing so. In this case, it seems that wealthier people may have used platóns primarily for eating and serving food, while poorer households were more likely to have used other vessel forms, such as cuencos, cazuelas, and cajetes (although these do not correlate significantly with household rank). It is possible that the wealthy at Uxul had a diet that was different from that of poorer people, meaning that they needed different vessel forms to serve and eat different types of dishes. It is also possible that a more stylistic distinction was made (Wendt 2010, 114–16): platóns are flat and open, allowing for the display of a design on the inside of the dish, which may have been used to signal specific messages to its user and/or the people around them. More bowllike vessels, with higher walls, would not have allowed

It is unlikely that the differences in the distribution of vessel forms are directly related to wealth. Indeed, none of the proportions of vessel forms are directly correlated to household wealth. Instead, it is more likely that the differences observed here are due to differences in household activities and specializations (although these may indirectly have been linked to household wealth), as

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Table 6.27. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the Late Classic vessel shapes found there. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)

–

185.6

172.3

167.9

155.3

182.2

162.6

168.2

166.5

171.7

Baak

185.6

–

175.1

174.0

158.9

184.6

168.7

170.0

177.6

168.6

G

172.3

175.1

–

170.7

174.1

177.5

187.3

180.1

167.3

181.1

K

167.9

174.0

170.7

–

181.8

178.9

178.4

186.7

186.9

155.9

K’áak’

155.3

158.9

174.1

181.8

–

166.0

182.8

185.6

177.5

157.6

M

182.2

184.6

177.5

178.9

166.0

–

173.8

178.9

179.8

165.8

Ma’ax

162.6

168.7

187.3

178.4

182.8

173.8

–

186.3

176.8

170.8

Pu’uk

168.2

170.0

180.1

186.7

185.6

178.9

186.3

–

184.2

165.9

Wob

166.5

177.6

167.3

186.9

177.5

179.8

176.8

184.2

–

151.6

Ya’ab

171.7

168.6

181.1

155.9

157.6

165.8

170.8

165.9

151.6

–

Average

170.3

173.7

176.2

175.7

171.1

176.4

176.4

178.4

174.2

165.4

Ak’

220

Household Economy the fact that platóns were very rarely polychromes (only 0.2 % of platóns were polychromes) does not support this hypothesis (although it also does not disprove it, as decorations may have been made in different ways). Of course, both these explanations may have been true.

Table 6.28. Table showing the statistical correlations between household rank and their relative proportions of forms of Late Classic ceramic vessels, as well as their associated functions Correlation with household rank

P-value

Olla

–0.499

0.142

Cazuela

–0.513

0.129

Cajete hondo

0.456

0.185

Cajete

–0.068

0.853

Cuenco

–0.505

0.136

Cazuela boca restringida

0.887***

0.001

Vaso

0.867***

0.001

Cajete abierto

–0.158

0.663

Platón

–0.595*

0.070

Cajete silueta compuesta

–0.244

0.496

Tecomate

–0.150

0.678

Tambor

0.175

0.629

Cajete insensario

–0.028

0.939

Cuenco abierto

–0.247

0.491

Olla miniatura

–0.326

0.358

Botellon miniature

–0.072

0.844

Vaso barril

0.189

0.601

Botellon

–0.147

0.685

Candelero

–0.319

0.369

Cazuela miniatura

–0.217

0.546

Cajete corto

0.187

0.606

Venenera

–0.073

0.841

?

0.254

0.479

Serving

0.020

0.956

Eating

–0.590*

0.073

Drinking

0.862***

0.001

Cooking

0.747**

0.013

Storage

–0.499

0.142

Ritual

0.031

0.932

Vessel form

It is unclear why vasos would be more likely to be used by poorer households than by wealthy ones. However, the correlation between rank and the occurrence of vasos may have had a similar explanation, except that in this case, it would have enabled people living in poorer households to perform a similar kind of signaling, as the vertical outside walls of cylindrical cups would have facilitated the outward display of specific motifs (Wendt 2010, 114– 16). Vasos would have been particularly suited for such displays, given their likelihood to be polychrome (about 50% of all vasos were polychromes). However, it should be noted that this correlation seems driven primarily by an overrepresentation of this vessel form in group Ya’ab, meaning that this may not represent an actual pattern, but rather a particularity of this specific household group. It is possible that this is due to factors such as personal preference, a focus in group Ya’ab on serving and entertaining outside visitors, or even craft production activities related to the production or painting of such vessels. The comparison of the correlations between vessel forms and household rank with correlations between household rank and the function of vessels (see Table 6.28) may shed more light on the differences seen between wealthy and poor households. For this, the total numbers of vessels with the same probable function (as shown in Table 6.1) were used, with vessel forms with multiple probable functions being counted twice, once for each of their possible function categories. The proportions of vessels used for cooking (between 10% and 19% of the total household ceramic assemblages) correlate strongly with household rank (r = .75, P = .013 < .05) meaning that poorer households owned higher proportions of vessels used for this activity. Vessels used for eating (between 3% and 8% of the household assemblages), on the other hand, were more likely to be found in wealthier households, with a strong inverse correlation between these and household rank (r = –.59, P = .07 < .1). This pattern should not be taken as an indication that poorer households were more involved in cooking, while wealthier ones were specialized in eating (obviously, what is cooked needs to be eaten, and what is eaten needs to be cooked). It does reveal a pattern of the choices people had in their use of everyday utilitarian ceramics. Indeed, it is possible that the elite in Uxul was able to obtain more specialized forms of ceramics, which had single functions, while poorer people tended to have more multi-functional ceramics. While wealthier households had higher proportions of ceramics that were used for eating and serving (i.e. platóns and cuencos), poorer people may have used the same vessels that they used to cook their food for serving and eating. In that case, vessels that have been identified primarily as cooking vessels (such as cazuelas) may have been used

* Correlation is significant at the 0.1 level (2-tailed) ** Correlation is significant at the 0.05 level (2-tailed) *** Correlation is significant at the 0.01 level (2-tailed)

for similar signaling. It is possible, then, that it was more important for people in wealthier households to perform this kind of signaling (either because individual sociopolitical identities were more important, and/or because they entertained more external visitors for whom this kind of signaling was intended) (Wendt 2010, 119). However, 221

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands for eating as well. Furthermore, it is possible that poorer people were more likely to have used different materials for their eating activities, using plates and bowls made out of organic materials such as wood or gourds, which would have disappeared in the archaeological record.

wealth and the relative amounts of ceramic vessels related to ritual practices (between 0.02% and 0.5% of household assemblages) (r = .03, P = .93 > .1), indicating that household ritual activity was not directly linked to socioeconomic status. While specific types of ritual may still have been linked to wealth, these are not reflected in the ceramic vessel assemblage. Furthermore, it is possible that certain households did specialize in ritual activities as a service, but this is either not reflected in the present household assemblages, and /or such specializations (even if they were tied to wealth) do not seem to have been systematically performed by the wealthy.

The hypothesis that the patterns described above may have been linked to a tendency for wealthy households to own more specialized vessel forms is further supported by the pattern of diversity in the vessel forms different households owned. Indeed, the palace complex K showed the highest degree of diversity, owning 17 different vessel forms. The other households owned between 12 and 16 forms, with groups Baak, K’áak’, and Ya’ab having the least diverse assemblages of vessel forms. While the advantage of the palace group over some of the less wealthy groups is relatively small, and the correlation between household wealth and the diversity of vessel forms they owned is not statistically significant (r = –.13, P = .73 > .1), it is of note that the wealthiest household (group K) had the highest diversity of vessel shapes, while the poorest in this sample (group Ya’ab) had the lowest.

Despite the relatively strong differences in the vessel forms different households had, and despite the significant patterns of certain vessel forms with different functions being more associated with wealthier or poorer households, the overall distribution of vessels used for specific functions is very equal. Indeed, a BrainerdRobinson coefficient of similarity (Cowgill 1990; Peeples 2011; Robinson 1951) applied to the extensively excavated domestic groups on the basis of the occurrence of vessels used for serving, eating, drinking, cooking, storage, or ritual functions reveals a very high measure of similarity between them. The average similarity coefficient is 192 out of 200, with 182 being the lowest value (between groups K’áak’ and Ya’ab), and 197 the highest (between groups Ma’ax and Pu’uk) (see Table 6.29 for the full similarity matrix). The household that had the least in common with the other ones is Ya’ab with an average similarity coefficient of 187 out of 200, meaning that it had slightly less in common with the other groups than they did among each other, but that the functions of its ceramics were still very similar. It should be noted that this slightly higher difference is driven primarily by an overrepresentation of drinking vessels, i.e. vasos, in group Ya’ab. So the similarity between the extensively excavated households in what they used their ceramics for was much higher than for the specific forms of ceramics. This supports the observation made above: while it seems that there were significant differences in the vessel forms people used, in part related (directly or indirectly) to their wealth, people in all of these households performed the same activities related to ceramic household vessels. Differences between the households are better explained by differences in their access to specialized vessels vs. multifunctional ones, rather than by differences in household specializations.

The strong correlation between the proportions of drinking vessels (between 0.1% and 4% of the household assemblages) and household rank (r = .86, P = .001 < .01) is very obviously not related to differences in the consumption of liquids. The statistically higher proportion of drinking vessels in poorer households is very much driven by the same correlation seen between vasos and household rank, meaning that it is almost entirely due to an overrepresentation of this vessel form in household group Ya’ab. Thus, this pattern may be due to factors such as household specialization in production or decoration or personal preference for ceramic materials for drinking over organic ones. It should be noted that the two vessel functions that are not related to basic functions of survival such as eating and drinking (i.e. storage and ritual) do not show a pattern of correlation with household wealth. It might have been expected that wealthy people would have had more things that needed to be stored on a long-term basis than poorer households. The lack of correlation for vessels related to storage (between 57% and 75% of the household assemblages) with household rank (r = –.50, P = .14 > .1) seems to indicate that this was not the case and wealthier households did not need more storage (at least proportionally). While we don’t know whether the storage vessels found in wealthy contexts tended to be larger than those found in poorer households, larger vessels would have resulted in more sherds. Since there was no correlation between household rank and storage vessel sherds there is no indication that wealthier households systematically had more storage space.

6.1.5.5. Conclusions: Late Classic ceramics The fact that household groups of different socio-economic status, both at the center of the site and on the peripheries, have a significantly high degree of similarity in the sources of their ceramics and the ceramics groups they were able to obtain seems to conform to the homogenizing effect predicted by models of market exchange (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 87; Shaw 2012, 120). While the rulers of Uxul did have exclusive access, though sporadically, to certain types of high-quality ceramics, and may have been better able to

Furthermore, it would not have been surprising if there had been a difference between wealthy and poor households in the prominence of ritual activities carried out within the household. However, there was no correlation between 222

Household Economy

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Table 6.29. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the functions of the Late Classic ceramic vessels found there. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)

–

192.3

194.9

185.8

185.2

192.0

190.0

189.7

186.9

194.7

Baak

192.3

–

196.0

191.1

189.0

193.1

194.8

193.3

193.4

189.3

G

194.9

196.0

–

189.7

189.7

195.6

194.2

194.1

191.2

192.2

K

185.8

191.1

189.7

–

197.0

192.1

195.6

194.4

196.9

182.1

K’áak’

185.2

189.0

189.7

197.0

–

192.1

194.0

194.4

195.5

181.9

M

192.0

193.1

195.6

192.1

192.1

–

195.9

196.5

193.6

189.0

Ma’ax

190.0

194.8

194.2

195.6

194.0

195.9

–

197.2

196.8

186.5

Pu’uk

189.7

193.3

194.1

194.4

194.4

196.5

197.2

–

195.8

187.2

Wob

186.9

193.4

191.2

196.9

195.5

193.6

196.8

195.8

–

183.3

Ya’ab

194.7

189.3

192.2

182.1

181.9

189.0

186.5

187.2

183.3

–

Average

190.2

192.5

193.1

191.6

191.0

193.3

193.9

193.6

192.6

187.3

Ak’

afford more expensive styles and foreign ceramics, most of the ceramics, including most polychromes, seem to have circulated in an undifferentiated exchange system where everyone had access to them. This is true when considering variety-level distinctions of ceramics as well, meaning that most of the workshops that provided ceramics to the population of Uxul distributed them through a single centralized marketplace. While smallscale separate exchange systems can be identified at Uxul, the expected clear separation between exchange systems for high-quality polychromes and utilitarian wares was not present here. Most ceramics by far were included in a common exchange sphere that was accessible to all the households considered.

polychromes, and vessel forms, while the relatively poor group Ya’ab systematically had among the lowest degrees of diversity. It is unclear how exactly this pattern emerged, but it follows the same pattern as seen for the Early Classic period. It seems that the elite of Uxul had more economic choices, and could simply afford more specialized and more different kinds of pottery. The fact, however, that almost none of the groups and forms of ceramics were exclusive to the elite, or even showed a correlation with wealth, indicates that this pattern was not due to a formal restriction on any ceramic resources. Instead, it seems that people were free to buy what they wanted, and had access to the same ceramic resources (likely at a central market), but not everyone was able or willing to invest the same amount of wealth into obtaining the broadest spectrum possible. Some elite households simply had more economic choices than others, but their economic agency seems to have varied very little during the Late Classic period.

Furthermore, while there are some significant differences in the vessel forms people used, some of which are related to wealth, the functions that ceramics were used for were remarkably similar at all of the households considered here. There is no indication of strong differences in specialization related to what ceramics were used for, whether it relates to basic survival functions such as food and drinks, or to storage or ritual activities. The differences that are observed in the use of specific forms of ceramics seem more related to whether people used specialized or multifunctional ceramics (with wealthier people possibly tending to use more specialized vessels), rather than to any kind of specialization. The only exception is the overrepresentation of vasos in household group Ya’ab, which may have been related to either personal preferences or a specialization in their production and/or decoration.

6.1.6. Terminal Classic ceramics For the Terminal Classic period at Uxul, traces of occupation are sporadic, and it seems that many of the household groups were abandoned during this time. This was the case for groups Baak, G, and Wob, where fewer than 50 ceramic sherds dating to the Terminal Classic were found. While these household groups will be included in the descriptive analysis of the Terminal Classic ceramic assemblage, they will be excluded from any statistical analyses, as their composition can’t be considered representative.

While the correlations between household rank and the diversity of their ceramic assemblages are not statistically significant except for ceramic sources, it is remarkable that palace group K systematically had the highest degree of diversity in its access to different sources, groups,

6.1.6.1. Distribution of stylistic groups For the ceramics found in the extensively excavated household groups, 20 different broad groups could 223

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands group Ak’), with groups Baak and G not owning any. Achote, Encanto, Chablekal, Pizarra Delgada, Altar, and Tancachacal ceramics all represent between 2% and 6% of the total Terminal Classic assemblage, with percentages varying greatly between the individual households. All other groups represent less than 1% of the total.

be distinguished for the Terminal Classic period (see Table 6.30). This means that, while the total numbers of ceramics diminished sharply by the end of the Late Classic period, the diversity of those ceramics did not, and a wide variety of them remained available. This also means that, although population numbers decreased significantly, production and exchange spheres, though they may well have changed, did not completely break down, and a wide variety of ceramic resources was still available in Uxul.

A Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity (Cowgill 1990; Peeples 2011; Robinson 1951) applied to domestic groups considered on the basis of the occurrence of Terminal Classic ceramics (excluding groups Baak, G, and Wob because of their low total numbers) reveals a very low measure of similarity between the groups, much lower than for the Late Classic period, and with a much higher degree of pair-wise variation (see Table 6.31 for the full similarity matrix). The average similarity coefficient was 97 out of 200, with 4 being the lowest pair-wise value between groups Ak’ and K’áak’) and 172 the highest (between groups K’áak’ and Pu’uk). The household group that had the least, and very little, in common with the others was group Ak’, with an average similarity coefficient of only 24 out of 200. Most of the households

In each of the households, except for groups Baak and Wob, the Tinaja group was the most common, representing 56% of the total Terminal Classic ceramics, and between 33% (at group Wob) and 88% (at group Pu’uk) for the individual households. Only group Baak did not have any ceramics belonging to this group (but with only two Terminal Classic sherds in total here this can hardly be considered significant). Group Wob was the only one where Achote ceramics were more abundant (representing 38% of its total). Maquina ceramics were the second most abundant group (17% of the Terminal Classic ceramics), varying between 2% (at group K’áak’) and 30% (at

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Total

Table 6.30. Distribution of different stylistic groups of Terminal Classic ceramics found at the extensively excavated households

Tinaja

90

0

17

1851

266

141

476

113

7

138

3099

Maquina

60

0

0

559

7

81

180

5

1

25

918

Achote

16

0

7

191

18

12

12

1

8

74

339

Encanto

18

1

2

123

3

2

128

2

2

20

301

Chablekal

14

1

15

75

6

128

0

0

0

27

266

Pizarra Delgada

0

0

0

127

3

1

3

0

3

12

149

Altar

0

0

0

107

1

7

20

6

0

0

141

Tancachacal

0

0

0

72

18

11

0

0

0

0

101

Muna

0

0

0

38

0

0

0

0

0

0

38

Balancan

0

0

1

15

0

2

2

0

0

0

20

Zacatal

0

0

0

0

0

0

15

0

0

0

15

Dolorido

0

0

0

13

0

0

0

0

0

0

13

Traino

0

0

0

9

0

0

3

0

0

0

12

Asote

0

0

0

8

0

0

0

0

0

0

8

Tres naciones

0

0

2

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

3

Infierno

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

2

2

Ticul

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

Tohil

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

Silho

0

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

1

No identificado

4

0

1

25

3

24

0

0

0

1

58

202

2

45

3215

325

409

839

128

21

300

5486

Group

Total

224

Household Economy Terminal Classic, and instead people obtained their ceramics from different sources.

Ak’

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Ya’ab

Table 6.31. Similarity matrix of the household groups (excluding groups Baak, G, and Wob) based on the Terminal Classic ceramic groups they had access to. BrainerdRobinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)

–

34.8

4.3

39.6

42.9

7.8

16.7

K

34.8

–

K’áak’

4.3

144.6

–

92.1

M

39.6

126.1

92.1

–

Ma’ax

42.9

165.3 123.8 116.8

Pu’uk

7.8

134.3 172.0

Ya’ab

16.7

141.4 115.4 111.6 125.6 104.5

Average

24.3

124.4 108.7

Ak’

A few of the groups considered here were exclusive to one of the households. Muna ceramics (of which 38 were found), Dolorido (13 sherds), Asote (8 sherds), Ticul (1 sherd), and Tohil (1 sherd) ceramics were only found in the context of the palace complex K. While the distribution of the Ticul and Tohil group ceramics is unlikely to be representative, given their low occurrence, it is more likely that Muna, Dolorido, and Asote ceramics were indeed restricted to the palace complex. Whether this has to do with the wealth of the palace complex or with their use as sumptuary goods is unclear.

144.6 126.1 165.3 134.3 141.4

82.7 94.8

123.8 172.0 115.4 116.8 – 130.7

82.7

111.6

130.7 125.6 –

Furthermore, Zacatal ceramics (15 sherds) were only found in group Ma’ax, and Silho (1 sherd) only in group Pu’uk. The distribution of Zacatal ceramics seems significant, but the mechanism driving their exclusive presence in group Ma’ax is unclear. It is possible that this group either produced them or had a direct connection to their producers that other households did not have.

104.5 –

117.5 105.4 102.5

were very different from each other, with very low pairwise similarity coefficients, and only a few pair-wise values being relatively high.

There is also a strong variation in the diversity of ceramic groups different households had access to. The palace complex had by far the highest diversity of Terminal Classic ceramics, having had access to 16 of the 20 groups identified. Most of the other households, on the other hand, had access to between five and ten different groups (for group Baak only two groups were identified, but given that the total Terminal Classic assemblage for this group consists of two sherds, this can’t be considered representative). It is unclear exactly how diversity is related to household wealth or status, but it is notable that the palace complex still had access to the highest diversity of ceramics during this period.

It should be noted that the differences between households in their ceramic assemblages are even more significant when considering subdivisions of the ceramic groups at the variety level. Indeed, when considering all 67 distinct varieties as recorded in the type-variety classification system, the average Brainerd-Robinson coefficient drops to 74 out of 200, with 22 being the lowest pair-wise value (between groups K’áak’ and M) and 132 the highest (between groups Ak and Ma’ax). Group M is the least similar to the other groups (with an average similarity coefficient of 60), though the other groups are not significantly more similar to each other. This significant variation at the variety level, even higher than at the general group level, is important, because the varietal level identifies local, and in some cases individual, ceramic workshop behavior (Reents-Budet et al. 2000, 99). So, much more than during earlier periods, it seems that individual households were likely to obtain their ceramics from different producers, rather than from a centralized market where everyone had access to ceramics issuing from the same workshops. It is even possible that this pattern indicates that people were more likely to have produced their own ceramics on a household scale, though it is not possible to verify this definitively with the present data.

No polychrome ceramics, which might have shed light on wealth distributions and their relationship to ceramic consumption, were identified for the Terminal Classic period at Uxul. This is in line with polychrome ceramics largely being replaced by elaborate incising and modeling throughout the Maya area (Aimers, Farthing, and Shugar 2012, 424). However, the resolution of the ceramic data used here is not sufficient for the analysis of the distribution of high-quality incised and modeled styles, which also is beyond the scope of the present research. 6.1.6.2. Distribution of vessel forms Seventeen different vessel forms were identified within the ceramic assemblage of the Terminal Classic period in the extensively excavated households (see Table 6.32). This is a slight decrease from the number of Late Classic vessel forms, meaning that even though the diversity of ceramic styles remained high, the diversity of vessel shapes diminished during this period.

This high degree of variation in the ceramic groups individual households had access to does not conform to the homogenizing effect predicted by models of market exchange based on the distributional approach (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016; Hirth 1998; Hutson 2021; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 87; Shaw 2012, 120). Instead, this pattern indicates that, contrary to the earlier Classic periods, there does not seem to have been a centralized market exchange system in place in Uxul during the

Ollas were vessel form most frequently found, both overall (representing 48% of the total assemblage) and in 225

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Total

Table 6.32. Distribution of the different Terminal Classic vessel shapes found at the extensively excavated households

Olla

63

0

10

1811

164

173

301

13

9

114

2658

Cazuela

51

0

4

439

91

10

262

77

0

6

940

Cuenco

18

1

1

416

32

23

54

4

3

6

558

Cajete

14

1

7

263

22

76

71

9

1

18

482

Cajete hondo

32

0

18

76

8

100

5

1

0

44

284

Vaso barril

5

0

1

70

3

1

62

1

7

80

230

Cuenco boca restringida

1

0

2

62

2

6

11

1

0

2

87

Cazuela boca restringida

11

0

0

10

0

0

32

22

0

0

75

Vaso

5

0

0

5

0

19

5

0

0

29

63

Tecomate

0

0

0

28

0

0

31

0

0

0

59

Molcajete

1

0

2

16

0

1

5

0

0

1

26

Cuenco corto

0

0

0

13

0

0

0

0

0

0

13

Cajete corto

0

0

0

4

0

0

0

0

0

0

4

Sahumador

1

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

1

0

3

Candelero

0

0

0

0

2

0

0

0

0

0

2

Cajete miniatura

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

0

0

1

Olla miniatura

0

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

0

1

202

2

45

3215

325

409

839

128

21

300

5486

significant differences and very few relatively high pairwise similarity coefficients.

most of the individual households (between 22% at group G and 56% at group K). The only household groups where this vessel form was not the most abundant were group Baak, where none were found, and groups Pu’uk where they represent only 10% of the assemblage. Cazuelas, cuencos, cajetes, cajetes hondos, and vasos barril were also not uncommon, representing between 17% and 4% each of the total assemblage, with their distribution among the individual households varying. All other vessel forms represent less than 2% of the total Terminal Classic vessels.

Cuencos cortos (13 sherds), cajetes cortos (4 sherds), and cajetes miniaturas (1 vessel) were exclusive to the palace

Ak’

226

–

Ya’ab

Pu’uk

Ma’ax

Ak’

A Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity (Cowgill 1990; Peeples 2011; Robinson 1951) applied to the extensively excavated domestic groups (excluding groups Baak, G, and Wob because of their low total numbers of Terminal Classic ceramics) on the basis of the occurrence of different forms of Terminal Classic ceramic vessels reveals a low measure of similarity between them (see Table 6.33 for the complete similarity matrix). The average similarity coefficient is 118 out of 200, with 45 being the lowest pair-wise value (between groups Pu’uk and Ya’ab), and 169 the highest (between groups K and K’áak’). The household that had the least in common with the other ones is group Pu’uk, with an average similarity coefficient of 81 out of 200. While the vessel forms different households used during the Terminal Classic are somewhat more similar than the groups of their ceramics, they still show

M

Table 6.33. Similarity matrix of the household groups (excluding groups Baak, G, and Wob) based on the Terminal Classic vessel shapes found there. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011) K’áak’

Total

K

Vessel form

133.4 152.0 131.0 156.5 105.9 123.3

K

133.4

K’áak’

152.0 169.3

M

131.0 126.0 120.9

Ma’ax

156.5 140.1 158.4 110.8

Pu’uk

105.9

Ya’ab

–

73.2

169.3 126.0 140.1 –

100.5

73.2

107.4

120.9 158.4 100.5 104.0 – 49.1

110.8 – 115.0

49.1

136.9

115.0 110.9 –

44.8

123.3 107.4 104.0 136.9 110.9

44.8

–

Average 133.7 124.9 134.2 112.5 132.0

81.4

104.5

Household Economy Ak’ and Ma’ax). The household that had the least in common with the others was group Pu’uk, with an average similarity coefficient of 138 out of 200. Overall, there were significant differences between each of the households, but they were not as extreme as for the vessel forms, although very few pair-wise coefficients were very high.

complex K, and were found in none of the other household groups. Candeleros (2 sherds) and ollas miniaturas (1 vessel) were only found in household group K’áak’. It is unclear to what degree these patterns are representative or are related to wealth or status. As with the distribution of ceramic groups, there are significant differences in the diversity of the vessel forms that households owned. Palace group K, similarly as for the ceramic groups, clearly had the most diverse assemblage, with 15 different vessel forms being represented. Most of the other household groups had access to between 8 and 11 different vessel forms, while groups Baak and Wob, due to their low numbers of total Terminal Classic ceramics, only had 2 and 5 different vessel forms respectively. Thus, the palace complex K was able to maintain its advantage in vessel diversity during this period. This may be due to its inhabitants having a greater ability and/or higher desire to own more specialized ceramic vessels (through their wealth and/or status), or it may reflect the performance of different types of activities in this context compared to other household groups.

This means that, unlike for earlier periods, the differences between the households can be explained by differences in the activities that were performed with the ceramic vessels, rather than by differences in the use of multifunctional or specialized vessels. These differences are seen most clearly for vessels related to drinking, storage, and ritual. Indeed, as was seen during the Late Classic, group Ya’ab still shows an overrepresentation of drinking vessels (36% of their Terminal Classic ceramic assemblage vs. 6% of vessels overall), mainly through the presence of a relatively large number of vasos barril. As was the case for the Late Classic period, this may be explained by either personal preferences or their involvement in the production of such vessels. Storage vessels represented 48% of the Terminal Classic vessels found in Uxul overall, but only 10% in group Pu’uk, suggesting that they invested relatively little in ceramic storage vessels during this period (they may have invested more in other types of storage, however). Ritual vessels were found only in household groups Ak’, K, K’áak’, and Wob, suggesting that there were differences between the households in the prevalence of ritual activities involving ceramics, although the total numbers of ritual vessels (7) may be too small for such a pattern to be representative.

A Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity (Cowgill 1990; Peeples 2011; Robinson 1951) on the distribution of Terminal Classic vessels based on their functions (serving, eating, drinking, cooking, storage, and ritual) shows a higher, though still relatively low degree of similarity between the households (see Table 6.34 for the full similarity matrix). For this exercise, the total numbers of vessels with the same probable function (as shown in Table 6.1) were used, with vessel forms with multiple probable functions being counted twice, once for each of their possible function categories. The average similarity coefficient is 159 out of 200, which is higher than for vessel forms, but lower than for the earlier periods, with 120 being the lowest pair-wise value (between groups Pu’uk and Ya’ab), and 189 the highest (between groups

6.1.6.3. Conclusions: Terminal Classic ceramics While occupation significantly decreased in intensity in Uxul during the Terminal Classic period, the diversity of ceramics used at the site remained high, indicating that ceramic production continued and its distribution did not break down. The homogeneity between households, however, of both the ceramic groups they had access to and the vessel forms they owned, seen during earlier periods, diminished significantly. People from different parts of the site and presumably different levels of wealth (although their relative levels of wealth could not clearly be ascertained) had access to very different assemblages of ceramics. With regard to the heterogeneity of ceramic groups and, to a higher degree, varieties, this likely means that the centralized market where everyone had access to the same ceramic assemblages, regardless of household location or wealth, disappeared during the Terminal Classic period (following models of market exchange based on the distributional approach (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155; Hirth 1998; Hutson 2021; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 87; Shaw 2012, 120)). It seems that people during this period of time obtained their ceramics from different sources. This may be explained by people either obtaining their ceramics directly from different producers (or making them themselves), through multiple smaller marketplaces, or through different modes of exchange that were susceptible to differences

Ak’

–

Ya’ab

Pu’uk

Ma’ax

M

K’áak’

K

Ak’

Table 6.34. Similarity matrix of the household groups (excluding groups Baak, G, and Wob) based on the functions of the Terminal Classic ceramic vessels found there. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)

166.4 181.0 163.5 188.6 155.8 154.8

K

166.4

K’áak’

181.0 182.2

M

163.5 172.0 169.6

Ma’ax

188.6 165.8 179.2 157.4

Pu’uk

155.8 129.0 145.8 121.6 153.7

Ya’ab

154.8 151.7 151.4 163.1 157.3 119.7

–

182.2 172.0 165.8 129.0 151.7 –

169.6 179.2 145.8 151.4 –

157.4 121.6 163.1 –

153.7 157.3 –

119.7 –

Average 168.3 161.2 168.2 157.9 167.0 137.6 149.7

227

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands in socio-economic status. The former two possibilities would suggest that centralized organization of economic life at Uxul broke down, leading people to organize the fulfilling of their needs individually, on a much smaller scale, very much reducing collective action at Uxul. It is also possible, however, that because of the incipient abandonment of the site at this time, the rulers of Uxul became more totalitarian in a bid to maintain order and the integrity of the settlement, and started highly controlling its economy. It is possible, then, that free market exchange became limited, and that more resources were obtained according to formal socio-economic status, through direct control by the rulers of Uxul. This might be an explanation for the consistently high degree of diversity of the ceramic assemblage of the palace complex K. However, because little is known about the levels of wealth or the loci of production of the ceramics, it is not possible here to clearly determine which processes were responsible for the diminishing homogeneity of ceramic assemblages at Uxul. It is clear, however, that the centralized free market exchange platform observed for earlier periods disappeared, and was replaced by other distribution mechanisms.

During the Late Preclassic period, when not all of the extensively excavated households were occupied yet, and Uxul had not reached its greatest extension, there was a lot of variation in the ceramic assemblages of different household groups, both in the ceramic groups and the vessel forms used (see Table 6.35). People from around the site did not seem to have had access to the same ceramic exchange sphere, resulting in heterogeneous ceramic assemblages. This pattern, following models of market exchange based on distributional analysis (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 87; Shaw 2012, 120), has several possible explanations. First of all, it is possible that this indicates the existence of multiple market-exchange platforms, organized on a small scale, and accessed on the basis of household location. It is also possible that different modes of exchange were responsible for the distribution of different ceramic resources, with access to these exchange platforms being restricted on the basis of socio-economic criteria. While relative household ranks are unknown for this period, some polychrome ceramics seem to have been restricted to the Uxul elite, which would be more consistent with at least part of Uxul’s ceramic exchange sphere being controlled by the elite, restricting the distribution of polychromes on the basis of socio-economic status.

Furthermore, for the first time differences in ceramic vessel forms seem to reflect differences in household activities. For example, group Ya’ab may still have been involved in the production of drinking vessels. However, it is unclear how exactly these activities differed from earlier periods or to what degree these patterns are due to the use of different materials for the same activities. It is also unknown whether these household activities may have been directly related to household wealth and status.

During the Early Classic period, as Uxul grew and occupation intensified, the variation of ceramic groups diminished. While the mechanisms behind this standardization are not entirely clear, it may be due to lessened access to foreign ceramics and an intensification of local ceramic production. It is also possible, however (although these two possibilities are not mutually exclusive), that the intensification of settlement at the site was accompanied by (causing or caused by) a more centralized system of resource supply, and streamlined production and exchange processes. This is also supported by the high degree of similarity in the forms and varieties of vessels people used, indicating possible further standardization. Furthermore, the systematic exclusive access the rulers of Uxul (in palace complex K) had to specific types of polychrome ceramics, as well as their high degree of diversity in their overall ceramic assemblage, indicate that they may have controlled their distribution, and had preferential access to resources that may have been used in a display of conspicuous consumption. This pattern may indicate that during this time of growth, the economy of Uxul became

6.1.7. Discussion of the distribution of ceramics in Uxul The examination of the ceramic assemblages of Uxul’s households allows for an analysis of the evolution of consumption patterns from the Late Preclassic period all the way to the Terminal Classic period, when Uxul started to be largely abandoned. Although ceramics are only one aspect of household consumption, they are abundant, and can be dated, making them ideal to study changing economic patterns over time, and helping to understand the mechanisms that led to the specific economic organizations observed.

Table 6.35. Table showing the average similarity coefficients for the ceramic assemblages of the extensively excavated households through time Time period

Average similarity coefficient for ceramic assemblages Groups

Varieties

Polychromes

Forms

Functions

Late Preclassic

151.6

146.2

–

139.8

189.3

Early Classic

178.2

173.3

136.3

182.2

194.3

Late Classic

180.9

174.6

138.6

173.8

191.9

Terminal Classic

96.8

74.5

–

117.6

158.6

228

Household Economy more centrally organized and overseen, both in order to support and promote said growth, while maintaining the cohesion of the settlement. This process may also have been the result of a mechanism through which the ruling elite of Uxul gained more economic power over their subjects.

in centralized control over market exchange. Furthermore, while differences in polychrome assemblages remained about as relatively low as for the Early Classic, fewer groups seem to have been exclusive to the ruling elite or directly controlled by them. The rulers of Uxul did have access to a source of polychromes outside of the normal free market trade (although these polychromes seem not to have had a role as sumptuary goods), but this was sporadic. Furthermore, one type of polychrome was found more frequently in wealthier households, but its presence in all households supports this distribution being due to prohibitive prices rather than to a formally imposed restriction. The distribution of polychromes overall was not related to wealth, however. Wealthier households also tended to own ceramics from more different sources, which also was probably due to prohibitive prices and market mechanisms, as they were better able to obtain ceramics from foreign sources which would likely have been more expensive due to transport costs and scarcity, while poorer households tended to rely more heavily on cheaper local ceramics.

This is not to say, however, that the elite gained total control over the economy. Indeed, the high degrees of similarity of both the groups, varieties, and the vessel forms found in different households from both the center and peripheries of the site (see Table 6.35) is consistent with models of market exchange. Following the distributional approach (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155; Hirth 1998; Hutson 2021; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 87; Shaw 2012, 120), this suggests that during this time free market exchange at Uxul developed and became centralized, and most ceramics were accessed through a central marketplace where everyone who could afford them had access to them, regardless of socio-economic status. The increase of centralization of the economy of the city, combined with the existence of several types of polychrome ceramics whose distribution was restricted to all but the rulers of Uxul (either through formalized exclusion processes or due to their prohibitive prices) and a systematic advantage of those rulers in the diversity of their own ceramic assemblages, indicates that the ruling elite was able to profit from the existence of this free market. It is likely, then, that they were involved in its organization, and oversaw the growing market exchange platform of Uxul (through mechanisms such as taxation, control of incoming resources, influence on production, control over who was allowed to trade when and where, etc.).

The distinction in production and/or distribution systems between polychrome and utilitarian ceramics that may have been present during the Early Classic (though it could not definitively be confirmed) does not seem to have played a major role during the Late Classic. Contrary to what has often been suggested for Late Classic ceramics in other parts of the Maya Lowlands (Ball 1993; Kovacevich 2013, 270; Reents-Budet 1998; Reents-Budet et al. 2000, 111; Shaw 2012, 135), polychromes and utilitarian ceramics seem to have circulated in the same market exchange sphere, and their production was not separated.

During the Late Classic period, the diversity of ceramic groups available at Uxul increased again. This may be a sign of better access to foreign ceramics, through the development of long-distance trade and the establishment of Uxul as a regional trade center. It may, however, also point to a lower degree of standardization and central organization of the ceramics trade. It is clear that free market exchange continued to be the rule for the largest part of ceramic distribution at Uxul. The high degree of homogeneity of ceramic groups and varieties, as well as sources represented at households around the site belonging to different socio-economic classes, shows the continued importance of a central market system where ceramics were available to anyone who could afford them, regardless of legal status.

Overall, the continued high degrees of homogeneity of ceramic groups and sources accessible to the different households, indicate that free market exchange continued to develop at Uxul, and was responsible for the vast majority of economic transactions involving ceramics. At the same time, however, the decrease of standardization, the higher degree of group diversity, the decrease of homogeneity of vessel forms, and the decrease in highquality polychromes that were exclusive to the elite in comparison to the Early Classic period indicate a possible decrease in central oversight of this market system. While the wealthy continued to profit from the free market system, and seem to have had more economic choices and access to a higher diversity of ceramic assemblages, signs of their direct control over market processes seem to decrease.

The decrease seen in the standardization of the vessel forms used by different households (see Table 6.35) is probably related to differences in the proportions of specialized vs. multifunctional vessels, rather than to household activities or access to a single market. While these differences do seem related to wealth, with wealthier households owning more specialized vessels, it also denotes a decrease in standardization and centralization of ceramic distribution as compared to the Early Classic. Thus, while differences between rich and poor seem to have increased somewhat with regard to ceramic forms, this also points to a decrease

During the Terminal Classic period, the population of Uxul sharply decreased, and parts of the site were largely abandoned. The diversity of ceramics used at the site remained high though, showing that their production and distribution did not break down. However, the differences between the households in their ceramic assemblages increased significantly (see Table 6.35), indicating that people from different parts of the site and presumably of different levels of wealth did not have access to the same 229

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands ceramic assemblages at a centralized market anymore. While ceramics were still being made, the free market system that used to be responsible for their distribution broke down. People during this period had to obtain their ceramics from different sources, and possibly through different modes of exchange, or produce them themselves. This indicates that either the centralized organization of the economy at Uxul significantly decreased, leading people to organize distribution processes on a much smaller scale, or the rulers of Uxul seized total control of the economy in an attempt to maintain the integrity of the site, resulting in large differences in household consumption based on their formal socio-economic status. While these hypotheses are difficult to test in the absence of clear data on the relative ranks of the remaining households at this time, it is clear that the centralized free market exchange platform that developed during the Early and Late Classic periods disappeared and was replaced by other distribution processes.

system (Golitko and Feinman 2015, 239). This would have played a major role in the intensification of long-distance transport and higher levels of interconnection between different regions of Mesoamerica (Golitko and Feinman 2015, 239). This material is ideally suited for the study of longdistance trade and interregional contacts because it can be assigned relatively easily to particular geological sources (Braswell 2013, 155; Levine 2014). Each source is characterized by a distinct trace element fingerprint, allowing for artifacts to be linked to a single source using chemical analysis (Braswell 2013, 155). The resource was widely traded throughout Mesoamerica ever since the early Formative period, as it fulfilled specific roles in both productive and symbolic activities that were not easily replaced by other materials thanks to its unique physical and visual properties (Braswell 2003; Feinman, Golitko, and Nicholas 2019; Golitko et al. 2012; Golitko and Feinman 2015; Golitko, Feinman, and Nicholas 2019; Levine 2014; Stark et al. 2016).

6.2. Obsidian: consumption, production, and sources Obsidian is volcanic glass that, because of its amorphous structure and hardness, is well suited for making chipped tools that can be used for activities such as fine cutting, perforating, and scraping (Braswell 2003, 2013, 155; Stark et al. 2016). It is a widespread material throughout Mesoamerica, used for a number of different tools. Because of its appearance, it was also occasionally used to make ornaments such as beads and earspools, as well as large intricate ceremonial blades, and played important roles in symbolic and ritual contexts (Braswell 2013, 155; Levine 2014; Stark et al. 2016). Because it was both a utilitarian and a prestige item, obsidian is found in a wide variety of contexts, both habitational and ritual, both elite and commoner (Braswell 2003, 131).

There are, in total, more than 50 chemically distinct geological sources of obsidian within Mesoamerica, most of which were either never exploited or only used on limited local scales (Braswell 2013, 155). Some, however, have a long history of exploitation, and materials from these were exchanged throughout the Mesoamerican region (Braswell 2013, 155). Two main regions of obsidian sources can be identified: Central Mexico, and the Maya Highlands of Guatemala (Braswell 2013, 155). The most important of these during prehispanic times were (Braswell 2013, 155): • In Central Mexico: Pachuca (Hidalgo), Ucareo (Michoacan), Zaragoza (Puebla), Otumba (Estado de Mexico), Pico de Orizaba (Veracruz), Paredon (Puebla), and Zacualtipan (Hidalgo) • In Guatemala: El Chayal, Ixtepeque, San Martin Jilotepeque, and Tajumulco

The Lowland Maya had no direct access to obsidian sources but instead had to import the material from the Guatemalan Highlands and Central Mexico through longdistance trade networks (Golitko et al. 2012; Shaw 2012, 133). Analysis of the sources of obsidian has shown that the value and availability of obsidian varied considerably over time due to changing political and trade relationships (Golitko et al.; Shaw 2012, 133). Throughout the Early and Late Classic periods, obsidian played an important part in the Maya political economy, and political relationships, as suggested by hieroglyphic monuments, are expected to be reflected in its exchange patterns (Braswell 2013, 153). However, despite fluctuations by source and site that may reflect trade disruption due to political conflicts, obsidian was widely available throughout the Classic period (Shaw 2012, 133). It has been argued that obsidian played an essential role in shaping Mesoamerican economic systems, stimulating economic intensification, and regional integration (Golitko and Feinman 2015, 239). As a non-essential but valued commodity widely available to all segments of Mesoamerican society, goods such as obsidian may have driven the increasing incorporation of even small and low-status households into the regional

While obsidian from Central Mexico was traded into the Maya area throughout prehistory and well into the Postclassic period, very little obsidian from Maya sources was traded westward beyond the Formative period (Braswell 2013, 155). Although the actual number of obsidian artifacts found in the Maya Lowlands originating from non-Guatemalan sources is relatively small, their presence is significant (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 75). The study of the geological sources of obsidian artifacts can provide evidence that connects obsidian sources to sites and sites to each other. Furthermore, it indicates the existence of relationships between sources and different types of artifacts, discovery contexts, and intrasite distribution systems (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 75). Throughout the Maya Lowlands, it has been observed that different categories of artifacts or resources often contrast in use, use-lives, depositional frequencies and contexts, symbolism, weight and fragility, as well as circulations 230

Household Economy (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 81; Stark and Garraty 2010, 48). Obsidian seems to have been imported for artifacts with specific quotidian and special functions, uses, and meanings, rather than as merely geological artifacts (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 81). The analysis of the sources of obsidian artifacts can therefore shed light on the kinds of exchange networks that brought these artifacts to the Maya Lowlands, on the organization of artifact production, distribution among different social groups, forms of distribution at the consumer site, and the ways in which artifacts ended up in the archaeological context (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 81).

therefore exhausted to the highest degree to get the most use out of it (Braswell 2013, 162). 6.2.1. Obsidian in Uxul The number of obsidian artifacts recovered at Uxul is relatively large, with 5988 artifacts having been inventoried. As a comparison, in the first four years of research, the Uxul project recovered roughly four times as many artifacts as were recovered at Calakmul over a 25-year period of investigation (Braswell 2013, 163). Braswell (2013) studied the obsidian assemblage collected during the first two years of excavations at Uxul (2009 and 2010), and Mike Lyons completed the inventory of the obsidian artifacts for the remaining years of excavation.

Obsidian artifacts can generally be assigned to five different lithic industries: the prismatic blade industry, the retouch industry, the casual percussion industry, the bipolar percussion industry, and the lapidary industry (Braswell 2013, 157). Additionally, both debitage and finished products of one industry can be recycled and used as preforms in another (Braswell 2013, 158). The most common obsidian industry in the Maya Lowlands was prismatic blade production (Braswell 2013, 161). These blades were highly standardized and well suited for making composite tools, and represent an efficient way of making tools with as little loss of material as possible (Braswell 2013, 161). Usually, the first stages of production were performed near the original obsidian sources, where nodules of obsidian were transformed into macrocores using freehand percussion, and sometimes further trimmed into polyhedral cores (Braswell 2013, 161). The most common forms of export from the Guatemala Highlands were trimmed macrocores and large polyhedral cores (Braswell 2013, 161). Blades could then be produced from the cores after their arrival in the Lowlands until the core was exhausted (Braswell 2013, 161).

Braswell (2013, 164) showed that there is evidence that prismatic blades were produced from polyhedral blade cores at Uxul that were imported from the El Chayal source. A small number of artifacts show the presence of cortex, indicating it was sometimes imported in a fairly early stage of reduction and then further processed at Uxul (Braswell 2013, 165). While there is no evidence of biface production at the site, all bifaces seem to have arrived at Uxul as finished artifacts, small flakes were found that show that bifaces were resharpened (Braswell 2013, 165). Furthermore, cores and bifaces were recycled at the site in order to make ad hoc flake tools (Braswell 2013, 165). This also accounts, at least in part, for the low occurrence of exhausted polyhedral cores at the site, as these were broken down after having been exhausted, since recycling of these cores was very common at Uxul (Braswell 2013, 165). 6.2.1.1. Obsidian types and find-contexts

More elaborate obsidian artifacts include large bifacial tools. There is evidence to suggest that most larger obsidian bifaces arriving in the Lowlands region were premade at the source and then traded as finished artifacts (Braswell 2013, 162). However, refurbishing flakes do indicate that knappers at Lowland sites constantly resharpened and reworked these bifaces during their use-life (Braswell 2013, 162).

It might be expected that different types of obsidian tools were used in different contexts, depending on the specific activities that went on there. While the most common type of obsidian artifact, prismatic blades (which represent 89.7% of all obsidian objects), seems to be relatively uniformly distributed in both domestic (89.1% of all obsidian artifacts in domestic contexts belong to this category) and ceremonial contexts (87.9% of obsidian artifacts), there is a slight overrepresentation of this type of artifact found during excavations in the western aguada as well as on the “Acropolis” group E. Since the material from the bottom of the aguada is material mainly from the artificially constructed impermeable floor, it is likely this material is originally from a refuse context, the contents of which were reused as building material, but of which the origin is unknown. It is therefore unclear what the composition of the material assemblage from this context can tell us about specific economic activities. The overrepresentation of prismatic blades (and by extension, the underrepresentation of other types of obsidian artifacts) in group E, on the other hand, could potentially help give a more precise identification of the original function of the “Acropolis” structure (this is, however, beyond the scope of the present analysis).

Simple percussion flakes were very frequent as they require very little skill or training to make, and can be used for a number of activities (Braswell 2013, 162). These were probably made ad-hoc by non-specialists whenever needed (Braswell 2013, 162). Broken or exhausted artifacts, especially cores and bifaces, were often used as cores for making simple flake tools using hard hammer percussion (Braswell 2013, 162). Furthermore, small broken artifacts were sometimes recycled into tiny flakes using bipolar percussion (Braswell 2013, 162). Exhausted polyhedral cores were also frequently smashed into small fragments, possibly in order to use powdered obsidian as an abrasive and polishing agent in lapidary work (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 80). This technique can be observed most frequently in areas where obsidian was a scarce resource, and was 231

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Interestingly, obsidian artifacts related to production (i.e. angular shatters, cores, bifacial thinning flakes, bipolar flakes, and percussion flakes), which represent 9.2% of the total obsidian artifacts, are slightly overrepresented in both domestic (9.8%) and ceremonial contexts (11.0%), while being underrepresented in the excavations of both the western aguada (4.5%) and the “Acropolis” group E (4.0%). This is probably related to the contexts in which the production of obsidian use-objects and processing of raw materials were primarily located. The fact that both domestic and ceremonial contexts contained relatively large amounts of materials related to production seems to indicate that obsidian was typically processed locally as needed, in the same contexts where the finished objects were used. This is not to say that objects were not also produced as needed on the locus of sale (such as a market stall), but these contexts are unknown and un-excavated in Uxul. Indeed, it is likely that a mix of raw materials to be further processed as needed, finished objects, and customized objects made to demand were sold through market exchange.

Bifacial tools, which were rare in Uxul (51 were found in total), and represented only 0.9% of the total obsidian assemblage, were also not entirely uniformly distributed throughout Uxul. Indeed, there was a slight overrepresentation of these elaborate objects in the “Acropolis” group E (1.6% of the total obsidian from the group), while they were somewhat underrepresented in ceremonial contexts (0.6%). Bifaces, while they share a number of characteristics, are a relatively diverse tool category including tools that would have been used in different ways. While many of these are elaborate points, they have varying shapes and are likely to have had varied uses. A more detailed examination of these objects and their specific contexts may reveal further information about both their use and the kinds of activities that were performed at the locus where they were found. 6.2.1.2. Extensively excavated household groups and their types of obsidian artifacts A closer look at differences between different households and the types of obsidian artifacts that were recovered within their context can shed more light on the different economic activities that went on within them. Here, I will examine the obsidian artifact assemblage known for the extensively excavated households in Uxul.

Similarly, pieces of obsidian that present traces of cortex were only found in domestic contexts and ceremonial centers, but not within the context of the aguada or “Acropolis”. The total numbers of obsidian presenting traces of cortex are small, 25 in total, representing only 0.47% of the obsidian total. They represent 0.53% of obsidian in domestic contexts, and 0.64% in the ceremonial centers. While the low numbers of such objects mean that their distribution may not be statistically representative, it does show that some of the obsidian arriving at Uxul was not fully processed. Furthermore, it means that it was also sold to the consumer in a relatively raw state, and that (as was shown with the artifacts related to production), obsidian as a raw material was processed locally by consumers in both domestic and ritual contexts as needed.

First of all, the amount of obsidian each household had varies considerably. Indeed, when counting pieces of obsidian as a ratio of the total number of ceramics found in each household, the relative amounts vary between 0.07 and 1.85 obsidian artifacts for every 100 ceramic sherds (with an average of 0.98 obsidian artifacts for every 100 sherds overall), meaning that some households owned considerably higher proportions of obsidian than others (see Table 6.36). Group M, with 1.85 pieces of obsidian found for every 100 sherds had by far the highest proportion of obsidian: the group with the next highest

Table 6.36. Distribution of obsidian in the extensively excavated households Total obsidian

Obsidian to ceramic ratio

Pachuca obsidian

Artifacts related to production

Prismatic blades

Bifaces

Ak’

86

0.32/100

–

3 (3.5%)

82 (95.4%)

1 (1.2%)

Baak

17

0.22/100

–

1 (5.9%)

16 (94.1%)

–

G

98

0.47/100

7

10 (10.2%)

86 (87.8%)

2 (2.0%)

K

699

0.69/100

62

74 (10.6%)

611 (87.4%)

12 (1.7%)

K’áak’

110

0.82/100

5

2 (1.8%)

107 (97.3%)

1 (0.9%)

M

2394

1.85/100

222

284 (11.9%)

2082 (87.4%)

15 (0.6%)

Ma’ax

106

0.54/100

2

11 (10.4%)

95 (89.6%)

–

Pu’uk

11

0.07/100

–

2 (18.2%)

9 (81.8%)

–

Wob

46

0.60/100

1

3 (6.5%)

43 (93.5%)

–

Ya’ab

260

0.53/100

–

39 (15.0%)

218 (83.9%)

–

Total

3483

0.98/100

298

429 (11.2%)

3349 (87.8%)

31 (0.8%)

232

Household Economy ratio of obsidian to ceramics was K’áak’, with only 0.82 obsidian artifacts for every 100 sherds, less than half of group M’s proportion. Groups Pu’uk and Baak had by far the lowest numbers of total obsidian artifacts (11 and 17 respectively) and the lowest relative amounts of obsidian (with only 0.07 and 0.22 artifacts per 100 sherds respectively). However, there was no statistical correlation between household rank and its relative amount of obsidian (r = –.16, P = .67 > .1), indicating that the amount of obsidian a household possessed seems not to have been related to that household’s wealth, and instead is likely to reflect differences in household activities and possible specializations.

a relatively raw state (although some or most of the cortex had probably already been removed before arriving at the consumer), and people further processed obsidian cores for the manufacture of obsidian tools (either for their own use or for resale) within these household contexts. There are also important differences between the households in the number of artifacts that are related to the production of obsidian tools (see Table 6.36). Overall, artifacts related to production (cores and debris flakes) represent 11.24% of the obsidian found in these households. In groups Pu’uk and Ya’ab, however, production debris is significantly overrepresented, with 18.18% and 15% respectively of obsidian belonging to this category. The low numbers of total obsidian found in Pu’uk, however, mean that these proportions are not statistically significant; and that it is very well possible that they represent a sampling error rather than an actual pattern. On the other hand, in groups Ak’ (3.49%) and K’áak’ (1.18%) in particular and in groups Baak (5.88%) and Wob (6.52%) to a lesser degree, artifacts related to the production of obsidian tools are largely underrepresented. There is no statistically significant correlation, however, between household rank and the relative amounts of obsidian related to production (r = .45, P = .19 > .1), meaning that the production of obsidian tools does not seem to be related to wealth. So, there is no indication that wealthier households were more likely to buy obsidian tools in their finished form (which would undoubtedly have been more expensive than obtaining obsidian as a raw material), nor that the production of obsidian was a specialization that was restricted to either the wealthy or the poor.

The large relative amount of obsidian found at group M is likely to be related to the observation that the inhabitants of group M may have used old architecture as a quarry during the Late Classic period and reused older materials, including obsidian, resulting in an overrepresentation of obsidian (Braswell 2013, 165–66). Indeed, the fact that the inhabitants of the household used older architecture as a quarry for obsidian (and possibly other materials as well), would have resulted in an overrepresentation of not only older obsidian sources, but of obsidian material in general. This also indicates that M may have had a specific role that was related to either specialized activities for which large amounts of obsidian were needed, or to the trade of obsidian. Indeed, it is likely that the household would have benefited from the exploitation of their land and older architecture, for example, by having a cheap source of obsidian so that they did not have to acquire the resource through market exchange (though their supply was probably supplemented by obsidian obtained at a market). It is also possible that this overrepresentation of obsidian at household M points to a role they had in the trade of obsidian, which is reinforced by their access to relatively large amounts of Central Mexican obsidian. Furthermore, the hypothesis of a role for this household in long-distance trade may also be reinforced by the presence of exclusive foreign ceramics at this group (see 6.1.5.1 Distribution of stylistic groups).

Instead, it seems likely that the differences observed here are the result of individual specialization of households. It is possible, for example, that households like Ya’ab, where an obsidian awl was also found, specialized in the production of obsidian tools that could then be resold as finished objects, or in the preparation of cores that could be used by others to produce tools as needed. It is also possible, however, that these households specialized in another activity for which larger than average amounts of obsidian tools were needed, meaning that they would have expended more time and effort on the fabrication of obsidian tools than the average household, even though obsidian tools would not have been the main end product of their activities. This is supported by the identification of workshops related to shell and greenstone materials within the Ya’ab group, production activities which may well have required the production of specific obsidian tools onsite as needed.

Of the obsidian found within the context of the extensively excavated households, only 0.69% of pieces presented traces of cortex. This means that the overwhelming majority of obsidian in these household groups was processed to a certain degree before arriving at the consumer. Traces of obsidian cortex were not found at every household, however, as only groups K (1 obsidian artifact with cortex), M (18), Ma’ax (2), and Ya’ab (3) contained any. The low total numbers of obsidian pieces representing any trace of cortex (only 23 in this sample) means that the presence or absence of cortex within a household group is not statistically significant, and may not denote actual absence. Indeed, only in groups where more than 100 pieces of obsidian were found is any trace of cortex present, indicating that the absence of cortex in groups with less obsidian may simply be due to its low statistical occurrence. However, the presence of obsidian cortex at these groups proves that some obsidian arrived in

Perhaps unsurprisingly, prismatic blades are overrepresented in each of the domestic groups where production debris was underrepresented. There are two possible explanations for this: either the overrepresentation of prismatic blades in groups Ak’ (95.35%), Baak (94.12%), K’áak’ (97.27%), and Wob (93.48%) as compared to the overall proportion of prismatic blades (87.76%) is simply 233

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands a statistical function due to the low relative amount of production debris, or it is the actual cause of the lack of objects related to the working of obsidian. Indeed, prismatic blades are known to produce exceptionally low amounts of production debris, as the technique, when well executed, produces a full blade without any wastage or superfluous material. The only expected by-product of this industry is exhausted polyhedral cores. These are indeed somewhat overrepresented in groups Ak’ (2.33%) and Baak (5.88%) as compared to their overall occurrence in household contexts (0.97%), indicating that a prevalence of the prismatic blade industry in the groups may have contributed to the underrepresentation of production debris. The implication of this is that different households seem to have performed different activities, resulting in differences in the composition of the obsidian assemblages, as well as relative amounts of obsidian between the households. These differences may be related to the obsidian industry itself, i.e. the processing of obsidian as a raw material into prepared cores or finished tools for redistribution (likely through market sales), or to other specialized production activities which necessitated different types of obsidian tools.

most reliable way to determine the source of obsidian is instrumental neutron activation analysis, or INAA, which can provide precise, quantified, and comparable data, meaning that the source of artifacts can be determined with near-perfect accuracy (Braswell 2013, 155; Moholy-Nagy 2003, 302; Stroth et al. 2019). This technique, however, is destructive and expensive, making it impractical in many cases. Portable X-ray fluorescence, or pXRF, has in recent years emerged as a viable alternative, as it is nondestructive and relatively cheap, allowing for the testing of large quantities of samples in short time periods outside of laboratory settings (Braswell 2013, 155; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013). While this technique does not yield highly accurate quantitative data, is not directly comparable to other chemical sourcing techniques, and measurements are influenced by the thickness and shape of the artifact, it does provide useful relative data that, when using a reference sample, can accurately assign a single source to about 95% of obsidian artifacts (Braswell 2013, 155; Stroth et al. 2019). Whenever the results of pXRF readings are compared to earlier XRF or INAA of the same obsidian artifacts, they consistently match, meaning that the portable variant of the XRF technique is a very reliable alternative (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 74). Attributions obtained with this technique are objective and, therefore, reproducible (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 75).

Another obsidian artifact category that needs to be discussed is bifacial tools. Because of their rarity (these represent only 0.81% of the obsidian artifacts in the domestic contexts discussed here), statistical significance may be difficult to ascertain, but it is precisely this rarity that makes the distribution of these artifacts, that are difficult to make and precious, interesting. Out of the extensively excavated households, bifacial obsidian tools were found only in groups Ak’, G, K, K’áak’, and M. Each of these households belonged to one of the wealthiest categories (I, II, or III), with K, Ak’, and M in particular belonging to the very wealthiest households. The low total numbers of bifacial tools don’t allow us to ascertain with confidence whether this was an artifact category that was formally restricted to the elite, or whether it was simply such an expensive good that most poorer households were (almost) unable to buy it. This second possibility may be supported by the presence of two bifacial obsidian tools in group G, which, although it belonged to the relatively wealthy category III, was not a part of the extremely rich category II elite, possibly indicating that the artifacts were not actual formalized sumptuary goods, as lower status households were allowed to obtain them, but instead functionally inaccessible to most of Uxul’s population. However, the distribution of this type of artifact was clearly linked to wealth, rather than to specialized productive household activities.

Ever since the 1930s, archaeologists in the Maya Lowlands have visually distinguished two kinds of obsidian: grey (ranging from almost colorless to black), and green (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 74). It has widely been assumed that the far less common green-colored obsidian originated from Central Mexico, which was confirmed by trace-element analyses (Moholy-Nagy 1999, 300; MoholyNagy et al. 2013, 74). The visual characteristics of the various kinds of grey obsidian artifacts in the Maya areas, however, do not consistently correlate with the chemical composition of their sources, meaning that simple visual observation cannot accurately predict where grey obsidian originated (either from the Guatemalan Highlands, western Honduras, or Central Mexican sources) (MoholyNagy et al. 2013, 74). Because of its reliance on existing reference collections, visual analysis for obsidian sourcing is especially prone to the misidentification and overlooking of uncommon or even unknown sources (Moholy-Nagy 2003, 304). This means that grey Mesoamerican obsidians can only be reliably attributed to their source by analyzing their chemical composition (Moholy-Nagy 2003, 302– 3; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 74). Since the chemical compositions of most utilized Highland Guatemalan and Central Mexican sources represented at Lowland Maya sites are well known, pXRF provides a high rate of successful attributions (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 75).

6.2.2. Sourcing the obsidian of Uxul: chemical analysis using pXRF

6.2.2.1. Sourcing the obsidian of Uxul: methods

Obsidian has been characterized as an ideal material for geochemical source attribution because of the homogeneity of individual geological sources and the chemical variation between them (Braswell 2013, 155; Frahm and Doonan 2013, 1430; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 72). The

The goal of the pXRF measurements of obsidian at Uxul was to identify and characterize the participation of household groups in common or distinct exchange networks during the Late Classic. In order to do this a 234

Household Economy representative sample from each of the household groups at Uxul that were extensively excavated was selected: Ak’, Baak, G, K, K’áak’, M, Ma’ax, Pu’uk, Wob, and Ya’ab. Only obsidian belonging to primarily Late Classic excavation contexts was selected, so as to compare contemporaneous assemblages. It was beyond the scope of this analysis to also analyze obsidian from different time periods and present a chronological overview of changing obsidian distribution, both because of time constraints and because of the difficulty of accurately measuring representative samples from earlier or later time periods for which the total amounts of obsidian found are much lower.

not form an entirely representative sample of the obsidian found in Uxul household contexts, as only the larger pieces were selected. This has had the effect of producing an overrepresentation in our sample of pieces related to production (especially cores and core preparation flakes), as well as of retouched tools, as these tend to be thicker and larger. As a consequence, prismatic blades, by far the most common obsidian artifacts found at the site, are somewhat underrepresented in our sample, as they tend to be very thin and, as a result, break into small pieces. The total numbers of each type of artifact that was analyzed using pXRF at each of the households can be seen in Table 6.37.

The pXRF measurements were conducted at the storage facilities of the Uxul Archaeological Project at the archaeological zone of Edzná, Campeche, as well as at the project house and storage facility in Constitución, Campeche. All measurements were performed by Arne Schröder (University of Cologne, Germany) using a ‘Thermo Scientific Niton XL3t Goldd+’ pXRF analyzer (50 kV/2W/100μA maximum), provided by the Archaeological Institute of the University of Cologne. For each sample, data were collected for 120 seconds per analysis using the AllGeo mode with two analyses being performed per artifact and then averaged.

For each household group, about 30 pieces were selected, taking into account the size restrictions, except for group Baak and Pu’uk, where not enough suitable pieces were available and only 11 and 9 pieces were selected respectively. For groups K and M, 32 and 66 additional pieces respectively were selected. Furthermore, 15 pieces of green obsidian were selected and analyzed in order to confirm that they all originated from the same source (Pachuca). This means that the numbers of Pachuca obsidian as reflected in this sample are not representative of their total proportions in each of the households, and Pachuca obsidian distributions will be analyzed separately (see 6.2.3.3 Pachuca obsidian). In total, 377 obsidian artifacts were analyzed using the portable XRF spectrometer. The results of the chemical analysis for each sample can be seen in Appendix 5.

When performing pXRF measurements on obsidian, the most effective and consistent results are obtained by analyzing flat areas that fully cover the instrument aperture (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 75). Only those pieces that were large enough to cover the entire measuring surface of the machine, a disc of 8 mm in diameter, were therefore selected for measurements. Additionally, fragments that were thinner than 2 mm were avoided, as these tend to produce less reliable results (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 75). This means that the pieces that were measured do

6.2.2.2. Identification of obsidian sources In order to identify the original sources of the obsidian artifacts tested at Uxul, the resulting chemical compositions were compared to published data of obsidian reference collections (see Meierhoff, Golitko,

Table 6.37. Table showing the types of obsidian artifacts that were analyzed using pXRF at each of the ten extensively excavated households Prismatic blade

Bifacial tool

Core

Production waste

Total measured with pXRF

Ak’

28

1

1

–

30

Baak

10

–

1

–

11

G

28

2

4

–

34

K

57

1

2

12

72

K’áak’

32

1

1

–

34

M

69

5

4

18

96

Ma’ax

27

–

–

3

30

Pu’uk

7

–

1

1

9

Wob

28

–

–

2

30

Ya’ab

25

–

1

5

31

Total

311

10

15

41

377

235

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands and Morris 2010; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013; Stroth et al. 2019). This was done through direct comparison of the measured values for the elements Iron (Fe), Manganese (Mn), Rubidium (Rb), Strontium (Sr), Niobium (Nb), and Zirconium (Zr) (following Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013). While there is overlap between clusters for each of the resulting comparison tables, their combination permits to distinguish clearly between single-source groups with differing chemical signatures. The analysis of these elements permits the delineation of single-source groups, as well as comparison with published data, thus permitting the identification of individual obsidian sources.

is overlapping with source nr.4, and sources nr. 3 and 5 overlap, the overlapping between sources nr. 1 and 3 is now resolved, as this chart shows that they correspond to two separate sources. Sources nr. 1 and nr. 2 overlap, but can be separated on the basis of the earlier bivariate plots. Source nr. 6 is still clearly separated from the rest. A final bivariate plot showing the concentrations of Niobium and Strontium (see Figure 6.8) resolves the remaining overlaps, and allows for the identification of all six individual sources. Here, source nr. 4 is clearly separate from the rest, resolving any overlap with source nr.1, and confirming it as a group of obsidian artifacts belonging to a single source. Similarly, source nr.3 is clearly separated, resolving any overlap with sources nr. 1 (in the Fe-Mn plot) and 5 (in the Rb-Zr plot) and confirming it as an individual source. Source nr. 5 is separated in the same way, thus resolving the overlap seen with sources nr. 2 (in the Fe-Mn plot) and 3 (in the Rb-Zr plot). Source nr. 6 remains clearly separated and the artifacts in this grouping belong to a single source.

By plotting the elements Iron and Manganese on a bivariate plot (see Figure 6.6), some initial groupings of artifacts with similar chemical compositions become visible. In particular, source nr. 6 is clearly separated from the rest in this plot. Furthermore, a separation of source nr. 4 is seen, although not very clearly delineated. Two further groups can be seen that are less clear, which turn out to correspond to sources that have overlapping concentrations of Iron and Manganese; these correspond to the overlapping source groups nr. 2 and 5, as well as the overlapping groups nr. 1 and 3. Plotting the concentrations of the elements Rubidium and Zirconium on a bivariate plot (see Figure 6.7) allows resolving some of these overlapping issues. Indeed, source nr. 2 in particular is now clearly separated from source nr. 5 (even though the latter is now overlapping with source nr. 3), confirming that they correspond to pieces of obsidian from different sources. Similarly, although source nr. 1

Source nr. 1 is the only source that forms a grouping that overlaps with other sources in each of the plots. However, because it overlaps with different sources in each of the plots, it can still be delineated as a separate, individual source. Indeed, its overlap with source nr. 3 in the Fe-Mn plot was resolved through the plotting of concentrations of Nb and Sr, confirming them as separate sources. Source nr. 4 was confirmed as a separate source in the Nb-Sr plot, thus resolving its overlap with source nr.1 in the Rb-Zr plot. Finally, source nr. 2 was confirmed as a separate

Figure 6.6. Bivariate scatter plot of Iron and Manganese concentrations for obsidian measured by pXRF.

Figure 6.7. Bivariate scatter plot of Rubidium and Zirconium concentrations for obsidian measured by pXRF.

236

Household Economy

Figure 6.8. Bivariate scatter plot of Niobium and Strontium concentrations for obsidian measured by pXRF. Figure 6.9. Bivariate scatter plot of Rubidium and Strontium concentrations showing the individual sources of the obsidian artifacts measured by pXRF (Barnard 2021, 150, Figure 10.6).

source in the Rb-Zr plot, thus confirming it as separate from source nr.1 despite their overlap in the Nb-Sr plot. In this way, the combination of these three plots, showing the concentrations of six elements, allows us to confidently identify the obsidian artifacts in overlapping groups as belonging to six individual sources. These six groupings are also seen, without overlap, in an Rb-Sr bivariate plot (see Figure 6.9) (this plot alone, however, would not have been sufficient to delineate the separation between the groupings). There are only three artifacts that do not systematically fall into the same groupings, meaning that these cannot be assigned to any of the six sources identified here. These either belong to other individual sources, for which only a single artifact was measured, or they are outliers that could not be tied to their actual source.

between elements are comparable. Thus, while obsidian pieces from the same source may show somewhat different absolute measurements of their chemical elements in different studies, the relative proportions of their elements remain constant, and their place on bivariate plots should be comparable between studies. This means that on two bivariate plots showing the same elements, groupings of obsidian pieces belonging to an individual source should appear in the same position relative to other groupings from other sources. Moholy-Nagy et al. (2013) published Fe-Mn and Rb-Zr bivariate plots for their sample of obsidian from Tikal, Guatemala. Similarly, Meierhoff and colleagues (2010) published the proportions of Manganese, Iron, Strontium, and Zirconium for their sample of pXRF-measured obsidian from Cahn, Belize. Stroth et al. (2019) published bivariate plots of the relationship between Strontium, Rubidium, and Zirconium for obsidian found at the site of Guadelupe, Honduras. Comparison with these plots allowed me to match each of the six sources identified in the present study to actual obsidian sources (see Table 6.38 and Figure 6.9). Source nr. 1 corresponds to the El Chayal source, nr. 2 to Ixtepeque, nr. 3 to San Martin Jilotepeque, nr. 4 to Ucareo and/or Zinapécuaro, nr. 5 to Otumba, and nr. 6 to Pachuca. It was not possible to confidently identify the actual sources of the three pieces that fell outside of the groupings on the bivariate plots.

Using the identified groups of obsidian artifacts belonging to individual sources then allowed for the identification of those sources. This is done through the comparison of the chemical compositions obtained through pXRF measurements with those published by researchers having performed similar studies. While individual measurements are not directly comparable between two different pXRF studies (because they were made with different pXRF spectrometers, different calibrations, and different environmental conditions, all of which may affect the precise numbers of the measurements of different chemical elements), the relationships between elements remain consistent, meaning that the relative proportions 237

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands throughout most of the Maya area during the Classic period, Central Mexican obsidian typically represents less than 1% of assemblages (Golitko et al. 2012, 511). Only in Soconusco sites and some sites in northern Guatemala were proportions of Central Mexican obsidian higher than this (Golitko et al. 2012, 511). The proximity of Uxul to northern Guatemala indicates that the site was probably well integrated into that exchange sphere, and may therefore have played an important role in the distribution of Central Mexican obsidian in the region.

Table 6.38. Identified obsidian sources and their corresponding numbers of matched obsidian artifacts Number of artifacts

Guatemala: 6

3

San Martin Jilotepeque

13

Central Mexico: 4

Ucareo and/or Zinapécuaro, Michoacán

11

5

Otumba, México

6

6

Pachuca, Hidalgo

15

Unidentified

3

Other

6.2.3.1. Household groups and their obsidian sources The distribution of obsidian from different sources throughout the household groups considered here can be seen in Table 6.39. An abridged version of the present analysis of the distribution of obsidian sources during the Late Classic was also published in a prior article (Barnard 2021). In each of the examined household groups, El Chayal was the main source of obsidian. Obsidian originating from Central Mexican sources was consistently present, however, and was recovered from both low-status contexts and elite households. While at two of the domestic groups considered here, Baak and Pu’uk, no Central Mexican obsidian was identified using pXRF measurements, it should be noted that it is statistically likely that this is the result of a sampling error and due to the low total numbers of obsidian artifacts identified from these sources. Thus, this absence does not represent a statistically relevant pattern, especially considering that for Baak and Pu’uk only 11 and 9 artifacts respectively could be tested.

6.2.3. Distribution of obsidian sources in Uxul The predominance of El Chayal obsidian corresponds to a trend that has been widely observed: at the beginning of the Late Classic period, El Chayal replaces the Ixtepeque and San Martin Jilotepeque sources as the primary source of obsidian throughout the Maya Lowlands (Golitko et al. 2012, 511; Meierhoff, Golitko, and Morris 2010, 7; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 87). Indeed, San Martin Jilotepeque obsidian generally remained in circulation during the Classic period, but was widely available only in the Soconusco area to the southwest, while it was largely replaced by other sources in areas to the northeast (Golitko et al. 2012, 511). Ixtepeque obsidian remains prominent only at sites near its source (such as Copán), as well as at trading sites along transport routes (Golitko et al. 2012, 511).

Table 6.39. Table showing the distribution of obsidian from different sources identified in the extensively excavated households (see also Barnard 2021, 150, Table 10.1)

Besides the predominance of Highland Guatemalan sources, three Central Mexican sources were also identified: Pachuca, Ucareo/Zinapécuaro, and Otumba. It was confirmed that all pieces of green-colored obsidian indeed originated from the Central Mexican Pachuca source, which is consistent with earlier research (MoholyNagy 1999, 300; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 74). Therefore, it will be assumed here that all green obsidian found at Uxul originated from the Pachuca source, and the Pachuca source will be dealt with separately when necessary.

Guatemalan sources

The fact that these Central Mexican sources were represented at Uxul, is consistent with the observation that, although always relatively rare, both grey and green Central Mexican obsidian maintained an uninterrupted presence in the entire Maya area from at least the Late Middle Preclassic period up until the Conquest period (Golitko et al. 2012; Moholy-Nagy 2003, 302). The relative predominance of Central Mexican obsidian in Uxul (representing 8.56% in the present sample, converted to 12.43% of the total if Pachuca obsidian is considered separately) is, however, remarkable. Indeed, 238

Central Mexican sources Unknown

Ixtepeque

Ucareo/ Zinapécuaro

2

Otumba

323

Pachuca

El Chayal

Ixtepeque

1

San Martin Jilotepeque

Obsidian source

El Chayal

Source

Ak’

26

1

2

–

–

1

–

Baak

10

–

1

–

–

–

–

G

29

1

–

2

–

1

–

K

63

1

1

5

2

–

–

K’áak’

32

–

–

–

1

–

1

M

72

9

–

6

6

2

1

Ma’ax

26

1

1

1

–

2

–

Pu’uk

9

–

–

–

–

–

–

Wob

29

–

–

1

–

–

–

Ya’ab

27

1

1

–

1

–

1

Total

323

13

6

15

11

6

3

Household Economy The occurrence of obsidian from Central Mexican sources in household contexts of different status supports the hypothesis that anyone could have access to it. Furthermore, it indicates that artifacts made of obsidian from these distant sources had predominantly utilitarian functions, not being restricted to, for example, ceremonial contexts. While it is often assumed that Central Mexican obsidian in the Maya area functioned as prestige objects reserved for the elite, this does not seem to be the case in Uxul. There is no correlation between household ranks and the proportions of Central Mexican obsidian households had access to, whether the entire sourced sample is considered (r = –.10, P = .79 > .1) or excluding the nonrepresentative Pachuca Central Mexican pieces (r = .04, P = .90 > .1). This pattern is similar, however, to the obsidian distribution observed at Tikal (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 85). There, it is observed that Central Mexican obsidian artifacts were associated with domestic contexts across the social spectrum, both elite and commoner, indicating that the elite did not use them for status legitimation (Moholy-Nagy 1999, 307). At Uxul obsidian itself seems not to have been an indicator of social status. Instead, it was the function and meaning of the artifacts, rather than their origins, that gave them their social value (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 85).

of long-distance exchange, they did not always restrict the distribution of obsidian in the same way as they may have done for exotic indicators of high status, such as jade or Spondylus shell (Moholy-Nagy 1999, 307) (although in Uxul, even for these last categories the observed patterns are sometimes more complex, see 6.3 Greenstone: production and consumption and 6.4 Shell: production and consumption). A higher percentage of Central Mexican obsidian artifacts would be expected in elite contexts if they were in fact the organizers and primary beneficiaries of long-distance exchange systems set up to supply them with subsistence and status goods (MoholyNagy 1999, 307). In that case, the elite would have had privileged access to all imported materials, domestic goods as well as status-markers (Moholy-Nagy 1999, 307). A Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity (see Cowgill 1990; Peeples 2011; Robinson 1951) performed on the sources identified for each of the household groups reveals a high measure of similarity between the household groups (see Table 6.40). The average similarity coefficient is 181.2 out of 200 (excluding Pachuca obsidian). This means that there is very little significant statistical difference detected between the household groups in terms of where their obsidian came from. The one exception is group M that shares similarity coefficients with the other groups no higher than 173 out of 200, although no lower than 160, with an average of 168.6. Each of the other groups, on the other hand, has an average similarity between 180 and 184 out of 200 with each of the other groups. A one-way ANOVA test confirms that there is indeed a statistically significant difference between the household groups (F(9,80) = 3.038, P = .004), while a Tukey posthoc test shows that only group M can be significantly differentiated from the other household groups (P = .93). This means that, while M is still significantly similar to

This is contrary to what is often assumed for Central Mexican obsidian, and Pachuca obsidian in particular, being controlled by the elite throughout the Maya area and serving as a symbol of status and power (Moholy-Nagy 1999, 307). Indeed, recent research shows, that Central Mexican obsidian is usually present in archaeological contexts representing both elite and commoner assemblages in the Maya Lowlands (Moholy-Nagy 1999, 307; MoholyNagy et al. 2013, 85). Although during the Classic period, elites may well have organized and controlled certain kinds

Ak’

Baak

G

K

K’áak’

M

Ma’ax

Pu’uk

Wob

Ya’ab

Table 6.40. Similarity matrix of the household groups based on the obsidian sources they had access to. Brainerd-Robinson similarity coefficient using the methodology as outlined by Peeples (2011)

–

186.7

186.2

179.3

173.3

173.0

193.3

173.3

173.3

186.7

Baak

186.7

–

181.8

184.8

181.8

161.8

180

181.8

181.8

186.7

G

186.2

181.8

–

190.1

187.1

172.7

186.2

187.1

187.1

186.5

K

179.3

184.8

190.1

–

194.0

170.8

179.3

188.1

188.1

191.9

K’áak’

173.3

181.8

187.1

194.0

–

167.9

173.3

193.9

193.9

186.1

M

173.0

161.8

172.7

170.8

167.9

–

173.0

161.8

161.8

175.1

Ma’ax

193.3

180.0

186.2

179.3

173.3

173.0

–

173.3

173.3

186.7

Pu’uk

173.3

181.8

187.1

188.1

193.9

161.8

173.3

–

200.0

180.0

Wob

173.3

181.8

187.1

188.1

193.9

161.8

173.3

200.0

–

180.0

Ya’ab

186.7

186.7

186.5

191.9

186.1

175.1

186.7

180.0

180.0

–

Average

180.6

180.8

185.0

185.1

183.5

168.6

179.8

182.2

182.2

184.4

Ak’

239

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands the other groups in terms of the origins of its obsidian, it shares less in common with the other groups than they do among each other. Still, the fact that household groups of different status and at different levels of centrality within the settlement were significantly similar in their access to obsidian from different sources is consistent with the obsidian having circulated in an undifferentiated exchange system.

Table 6.41. Table showing the sources of different types of obsidian artifacts

San Martin Jilotepeque

Ixtepeque

Pachuca

Otumba

Ucareo/ Zinapécuaro

Unknown

During previous research on the Uxul obsidian, Braswell (2013, 165–66) also observed a significant difference between group M and other domestic contexts at the site in their use of and access to obsidian from different sources. He argued that the inhabitants of group M may have used old architecture as a quarry during the Late Classic period and reused older materials, including obsidian, resulting in an overrepresentation of obsidian from sources that were exploited to a higher degree during earlier time periods (Braswell 2013, 165–66). In particular, the San Martin Jilotepeque source was more prominently represented throughout the Maya area before the Classic period (Braswell 2013, 165–66; Golitko et al. 2012, 511; Meierhoff, Golitko, and Morris 2010, 7; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 87). Indeed, the difference between group M and the other domestic contexts is characterized in particular by an overrepresentation of the San Martin source. Thus, group M had access to an exclusive source of obsidian that was not available to anyone else, but was instead related to land tenure and exploitation rather than market exchange. This would have resulted in mixed contexts in which older obsidian obtained during earlier periods is found together with obsidian obtained during the Late Classic through market exchange.

Central Mexican sources

El Chayal

Guatemalan sources

Prismatic blade

280

10

4

10

2

3

1

Production waste

27

3

–

3

2

–

1

Polyhedral core

15

–

1

–

–

–

–

Bifacial core

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

Biface

–

–

1

2

7

3

1

Total

323

13

6

15

11

6

3

be attributed to an overrepresentation of El Chayal blades in particular, as the other two Guatemalan sources do not show a similar overrepresentation. Of all the tested bifacial tools, on the other hand, only one originated from a Guatemalan source (Ixtepeque), while the remaining 12 came from Central Mexico (7 from Otumba, 2 from Pachuca, and 3 from Ucareo or Zinapécuaro). Central Mexican sources are thus hugely overrepresented in bifacial tools (92.31% of them came from Central Mexico vs. only 8.56% overall in this sample). This is consistent with the observation by G. E. Braswell (2013, 165) that most bifaces at Uxul were of non-Guatemalan origins and arrived at the site as finished artifacts. If people at Uxul had made the bifaces themselves, the fact that artifacts seem otherwise mostly undifferentiated by source means that we would expect to have found a majority of El Chayal bifaces instead. Furthermore, this same pattern is seen at the site of Tikal where, of all the grey obsidian bifaces tested by pXRF, only two were attributed to a Guatemalan source (Ixtepeque), while the remaining 25 originated from Central Mexican sources (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 81). In the case of Tikal too, no evidence of local biface production was identified, indicating that these objects were likely imported in their finished state (Moholy-Nagy 1999, 304). This seems to be a common characteristic of the region during the Classic period (Braswell 2013, 165; Moholy-Nagy 1999, 304, 2003, 307; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 81). In Uxul, bifacial tools arrived in their finished form primarily from Central Mexico (from the Otumba source in particular, but the Ucareo/Zinapécuaro is also greatly overrepresented), and only sporadically from Guatemalan sources, primarily Ixtepeque. It is likely that these tools were processed at or close to their place of origin, and that the inhabitants of Uxul obtained these objects primarily for their shape, rather than for their origins.

6.2.3.2. Artifact types and their sources Of the 377 artifacts tested at Uxul, 310 were prismatic blades, either complete or fragments, and 14 were bifacial tools. On the other hand, 53 of the artifacts pointed to different stages of production: 16 were fragments of exhausted polyhedral cores, 1 of a bifacial core, and 36 were various forms of production waste. Their identified sources can be seen in Table 6.41. Of the prismatic blades, 90.32% originated from El Chayal, 3.23% from San Martin Jilotepeque, 1.29% from Ixtepeque, 3.23% from Pachuca, 0.65% from Otumba, 0.97% from Ucareo or Zinapécuaro, while 0.32% is of still unknown origin. This means that 95.15% of prismatic blades came from sources in Highland Guatemala, while only 91.44% of obsidian overall came from there. Thus, the main source for prismatic blades used at Uxul was Guatemala, with Central Mexican sources being somewhat underrepresented for this category. This supports previously established ideas about the predominance of the three Highland Guatemalan sources in the prismatic blade industry in the Maya Lowlands (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 81), although the overrepresentation of Guatemalan sources is not particularly large. Furthermore, the overrepresentation of Highland Guatemalan sources can 240

Household Economy Of the artifacts related to production (i.e. production debris and cores), 43 were sourced from El Chayal (15 of which are fragments of polyhedral cores and 1 from a bifacial core), 1 from Ixtepeque, 3 from San Martin Jilotepeque, 2 from Otumba, 3 from Pachuca, none from Ucareo or Zinapécuaro, and 1 is of undetermined origin. Thus, all of the obsidian sources identified at Uxul are represented in production debris, except for the Ucareo/ Zinapécuaro source. This means that at least some of the obsidian from each of the remaining sources arrived in Uxul as raw material, rather than as finished artifacts. However, none of the artifacts that were measured presented traces of cortex, indicating that most obsidian reaching Uxul had probably been worked to some extent (although some non-sourced obsidian artifacts did present traces of cortex, indicating varying degrees of processing of the obsidian material that arrived in Uxul, see 6.2.1 Obsidian in Uxul above).

6.2.3.3. Pachuca obsidian Because green obsidian from Pachuca is easily recognizable and visually differentiated from the black obsidian originating from other sources, it was possible to study the full extent of Pachuca obsidian artifacts. In addition to the 15 pieces that were chemically sourced to the Pachuca source, 398 artifacts presented the characteristic green color of the source, representing 7.6% of the total 5945 obsidian artifacts that have so far been inventoried. The amount of Pachuca obsidian found at Uxul is relatively high. By contrast, for example, at the site of Becan, which had long-term occupation and was extensively excavated, only 12 pieces of Pachuca obsidian were found (Nondédéo et al. 2012, 229). Because of its relative scarcity in the region, green obsidian is often considered to be a sign of economic prosperity (Nondédéo et al. 2012, 229). At the very least, its significant presence at Uxul indicates that the city had good access to a long-distance exchange network. At the nearby site of Naachtun, a similar predominance of Pachuca obsidian has been explained as the possible result of its important political and economic relationship with Tikal (Nondédéo et al. 2012, 229). The location of Uxul in the same region may suggest a similar interpretation, although it is not clearly supported by other lines of evidence, such as the iconographic and epigraphic evidence from the site. It does, however, suggest that Uxul was very well integrated into the economic exchange networks of the region and beyond.

It should be noted that almost all fragments of cores were attributed to the El Chayal source (it is overrepresented in the sample with 94.1% of cores coming from El Chayal vs. 85.2% of obsidian overall), except for one which came from Ixtepeque. None of the cores came from Guatemalan sources, however. This means that obsidian from El Chayal seems to have been most likely to have arrived in a more unprocessed form. Further undifferentiated production waste (percussion flakes) is underrepresented for the El Chayal source, however (only 75% of production waste came from this source), indicating that the prismatic cores were likely prepared to a certain degree by the time they arrived at the consumer (either at or near the source or on more local marketplaces). Indeed, if chunks of El Chayal obsidian had arrived in household groups in a rawer state and had been prepared for further processing on-site, an overrepresentation of production debris together with prepared cores would have been expected. If, however, cores arrived in a prepared state, ready for the manufacture of prismatic blades, very little production debris would be expected within household contexts, as the prismatic blade industry produces particularly little waste. The underrepresentation of El Chayal production debris is therefore also consistent with the observed prevalence of the prismatic blade industry from this source (see above). It should be noted that this pattern is notably different from the one observed at Tikal, where production waste was overwhelmingly sourced from El Chayal (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 80). However, both the patterns of production waste from Uxul and from Tikal are consistent with material from El Chayal typically arriving at consumer sites in a somewhat less processed state than materials from other sources. Still, not all obsidian from other sources, including both Guatemalan and Central Mexican, arrived in a finished state, as production waste sourced from these areas shows that at least some of it was processed at the consumer site (with the possible exception of the Ucareo/Zinapécuaro source). Furthermore, this shows that a non-negligible amount of ultimately discarded weight was transported over very large distances, both from Guatemala and from Central Mexico.

It has been argued that, rather than a strictly economic commodity, the significance of Pachuca obsidian in the Maya region was mainly symbolic and ritual, for example as inter-elite gift exchange or as a symbol of Teotihuacan affiliation (Spence 1996). This is supported at a number of sites, where green obsidian was found in primarily elite contexts, particularly burials, suggesting its use as status symbols, and possibly the existence of a particular exchange system to which not everyone had access (Spence 1996). However, evidence throughout the Maya area suggests that in many other cases, green Pachuca obsidian tends to have been used for the same type of artifacts as that from other sources (Moholy-Nagy 1999, 302). In Tikal, for example, artifacts from Pachuca and other sources often occur together in archaeological contexts and there is often no evidence that the green color mattered to those who used it (Moholy-Nagy 1999, 302). This is largely the case at Uxul as well. Both green Pachuca obsidian and undifferentiated black obsidian from other sources were mainly used for the manufacture of prismatic blades, with 92.4% of Pachuca artifacts belonging to this category and 89.3% of all black artifacts. Of all prismatic blades, 7.3% originates from Pachuca (versus 7.1% overall), showing that for the production of this type of artifacts, the people of Uxul did not discriminate between obsidian sources based on their color. Furthermore, there is no clear distinction between domestic contexts and nondomestic contexts in the proportion of Pachuca vs. non241

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Pachuca obsidian that was found. Indeed, Pachuca obsidian represents 7.1% of obsidian from domestic contexts, 6.9% in ceremonial centers, 7.1% in the “acropolis” group E, and 7.3% in the aguadas. Thus, there is no evidence that green Pachuca obsidian was reserved for specific contexts or goals, but instead, it seems to have circulated indiscriminately together with black-colored obsidian in Uxul.

fact that during the test-pit campaign performed at Uxul green obsidian was in fact found in some of the household groups corresponding both to periphery secondary elites (such as Group Kulte’) as well as in low-status household contexts (such as Group Bu’ul), makes the role of status as the only explanation for the absence of Pachuca material unlikely. It thus seems that green obsidian from the Pachuca source, though not entirely uniformly distributed across households, did not serve as a marker of status at Uxul. Indeed, while groups K (8.9%), M (9.2%), and G (7.2%) had the highest proportions of Pachuca obsidian, there was no statistically significant correlation between household rank and the proportion of Pachuca obsidian present at the extensively excavated households (r = –.27, P = .46 > .1). It was largely used in the same contexts as black obsidian from other sources, including both Guatemalan and Central Mexican ones. However, green obsidian may not have been fully integrated within the same exchange system as black obsidian. Although it was not reserved for the elite or ceremonial contexts, and was used for the same types of artifacts as the obsidian from any other source, green obsidian was still differentiated from its black counterparts. The fact that other Central Mexican sources were undifferentiated from Guatemalan ones in Uxul exchange systems indicates that Pachuca obsidian was probably not valued differently because of its origin, but rather because of its distinctive color. However, it is also possible that the link between the Pachuca source and the city of Teotihuacan may have been a factor in its differential distribution.

Of the Pachuca obsidian, 5.2% of the inventoried artifacts were related to production, while this category represents 9.5% for the black obsidian. The main difference here is due to an underrepresentation of percussion flakes for Pachuca obsidian, which represent 5.5% of black obsidian artifacts, but only 1.4% for green ones. Additionally, no core or core fragments were found that could be attributed to the Pachuca source, while 70 cores of black obsidian were identified. None of the green obsidian found at Uxul presented any traces of cortex, while 25 of the black obsidian artifacts still contained traces of cortex. Thus, while Pachuca obsidian is slightly underrepresented in production waste (4% of production waste is green versus 7.1% overall), obsidian from this source did arrive in a somewhat prepared (cortex removed), but not always final state in Uxul, where it was then further processed. The only type of artifact for which there was an overrepresentation of Pachuca obsidian is bifacial tools, with 8 (15.7%) of them coming from Pachuca. This is consistent with the observation that during pXRF testing, all bifacial tools were sourced to Central Mexican sources, and that they were probably imported in a finished state, rather than produced locally in Uxul from raw materials.

6.2.4. Uxul obsidian and the long-distance exchange network

In none of the households that were extensively investigated did green obsidian account for more than 9.2% of the total (the total numbers of Pachuca obsidian found at the extensively excavated households can be seen in Table 6.36 above). However, at four of the groups, no green obsidian was identified: Ak’, Baak, Pu’uk, and Ya’ab. For groups Baak and Pu’uk, this may well be explained by the overall low occurrence of obsidian (only 17 and 11 artifacts were found at each of these groups respectively), making the presence of green obsidian here statistically unlikely. However, for groups Ak’ and Ya’ab, at which 86 and 260 obsidian artifacts were found respectively, the statistical likelihood of not finding any green obsidian if its distribution were entirely uniform is much smaller. The reason for this disparity is unclear. While both of these household groups are situated outside of the main center of Uxul, the fact that groups situated further away on the peripheries did have access to Pachuca obsidian makes distance from a central marketplace an unlikely explanation for the absence of green obsidian. Ak’ is part of the secondary elite at the site, while Ya’ab belongs to a much lower social strata corresponding to commoner status. Therefore, while it can’t be asserted that status did not play a role in this differential distribution of green obsidian, the mechanisms behind this would have been different for each of these groups. Furthermore, the

The identification of the obsidian sources available in Uxul during the Late Classic period also permits a study of the place of Uxul within the wider long-distance exchange network of the region. Golitko and colleagues (2012) carried out broad research into the distribution of obsidian from different sources throughout the Maya areas in different periods. They used network analysis to connect sites at which sufficient obsidian artifacts had been reliably sourced, on the basis of the composition of their obsidian assemblages (see Figure 6.10). Because they kindly made their complete dataset available, including the obsidian assemblages of the sites they considered, it was possible to reproduce their methodology with the inclusion of the data from Uxul obtained from the pXRF analysis on a sample of the obsidian. Thus, I was able to study the place of Uxul in the wider regional longdistance exchange network with regard to obsidian trade. In order to do this, I followed the methodology outlined by Golitko et al. (2012), reproducing the same network results, but with the inclusion of the data on obsidian sources identified in Uxul. It should be noted that additional, more comprehensive studies of the same kind have been published since, 242

Household Economy building on the original 2012 study, which gives a more detailed and complete view of obsidian trade relationships throughout the Maya area (Feinman, Golitko, and Nicholas 2019; Golitko and Feinman 2015; Golitko, Feinman, and Nicholas 2019). For these studies, however, the initial data on the composition of the obsidian assemblages with regard to their sources was not readily available, which means that it was beyond the scope of the present research project to study the place of Uxul in these more detailed trade networks. However, while the 2012 study may be less complete, it should still suffice to obtain a good approximation of the general role Uxul played in the wider obsidian exchange network during the Classic period. The present research also means that the data concerning Uxul’s obsidian sources may be used in later similar follow-up studies in order to contribute to a more comprehensive understanding of the obsidian trade throughout the Maya area and Mesoamerica.

The resulting network visualization can be seen in Figure 6.11. It can be compared to the network visualization produced by Golitko et al., without the inclusion of Uxul, seen in Figure 6.10. As can be seen in Figure 6.11, Uxul is placed where it would be most expected in the social network visualization: close to most of the other central zone sites, and with a good link to East Coast, Belize, and Northwestern sites. Uxul thus forms part of the grouping of sites that were mostly reliant on El Chayal obsidian that was identified by Golitko et al. (2012, 511). This makes sense when considering the physical position of Uxul in the Maya area, at the northern periphery of the Central zone. Furthermore, Uxul has a relatively high degree of closeness, a measure which represents the inverted sum of the node’s shortest paths to all other nodes in the network, meaning that the higher the closeness measure of a node, the fewer steps are needed to reach all other nodes, and so the better it is integrated into the network (Weidele and Brughmans 2015, 34). Indeed, Uxul has a measure of closeness of 4.07, which is close to the site with the highest measure of closeness (4.58 for Salpeten) in the network, indicating that Uxul represented a central node in the Maya Lowlands obsidian exchange network.

In order to visualize the obsidian assemblages of Classic Maya sites as a network, a similarity matrix was constructed using the Brainerd-Robinson coefficient (see Cowgill 1990; Robinson 1951). The coefficient included the obsidian assemblages of all the sites considered by Golitko and colleagues (2012) for which at least eight Classic period (250/300 – 800 CE) pieces had been sourced, as well as the data on pXRF-sourced Late Classic obsidian from Uxul. The values given by the Brainerd-Robinson similarity matrix were converted into measures of Brainerd-Robinson distance by subtracting each value from the maximum 200. This means that the more similar the assemblages from two sites are, the lower the value through which they are linked (instead of the opposite), and the shorter the final edge between their nodes in a spring-embedded visualization graph. The sites and their corresponding Brainerd-Robinson distance values were imported into the social network analysis software Visone, in order to construct visualization of the network. Each site is represented by a node (coded by regional zone after Adams and Culbert (1977)), while each edge corresponds to the Brainerd-Robinson distance coefficient between two nodes. Edges representing the lowest measure of similarity (or highest distance) between nodes were removed until all nodes were linked to at least one other node with the lowest number of connections possible (in this case, all edges with a measure of similarity lower than 120), following the methodology as outlined by Golitko and his colleagues (Golitko et al. 2012) as well as Weidele and Brughmans (2015). The network was visualized using a spring-embedded network graph, where higher degrees of similarity (or lower degrees of distance) are represented by shorter edges, so that sites whose obsidian assemblages are more similar to each other appear closer together. Hierarchical clustering was then produced using the Girvan-Newman Clustering algorithm (in which edge betweenness, i.e. the number of times an edge is part of the shortest path between any two nodes, is used to identify clusters of nodes), showing statistically significant clusters of sites.

Thus, the network analysis shows that Uxul was well integrated into the long-distance obsidian exchange sphere of the region, both within the Central Maya zone, as well as in the Maya area in general. The high relative prevalence of Central Mexican obsidian as compared to the wider Maya region (12.87% versus less than 1% in most sites) also emphasizes the strong connection of Uxul with northern Guatemalan sites with high (though not as high as in Uxul) proportions of Central Mexican material (Golitko et al. 2012, 511). Indeed, in the Central Maya Lowlands, only Tikal showed higher proportions of Central Mexican obsidian, representing up to 22% of its total assemblage (Golitko et al. 2012). The northern Guatemalan sites of Macanche and Yaxha are the only other places in the Central Lowlands where Central Mexican obsidian represented over 1% of the total, with 7.1% and 5.4% respectively. This underlines the position of Uxul on important trade routes in accordance with local inland routes of transport (Golitko et al. 2012, 511), as Uxul may have been an important node in the distribution of Central Mexican obsidian throughout the wider region. This would also have made Uxul an important node in the inland transport routes in relation to Calakmul and La Corona, which became very important during the Classic period in the Central Maya area (Golitko et al. 2012, 511; Golitko and Feinman 2015, 224), possibly helping to explain the rapid growth of Uxul, and its importance to the larger city of Calakmul that governed it and seems to have expended significant energy influencing Uxul (Grube et al. 2012). In any case, the remarkably high proportion of Central Mexican obsidian in Uxul shows its high integration and into the wider long-distance exchange network. 243

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 6.10. Network visualization calculated from Brainerd-Robinson coefficients for the Classic period (~250/300 - 800 CE) obsidian assemblages, with assemblages with less than eight pieces omitted (Golitko et al. 2012, 513, Figure 3, reproduced with permission).

Figure 6.11. Network visualization calculated from Brainerd-Robinson coefficients for the Classic period (~250/300 – 800 CE) obsidian assemblages, with assemblages with less than eight pieces omitted. Based on classification (by geographical zone after Adams and Culbert (1977)), data, and network mapping by Golitko et al. (2012), see above, including data from Uxul. Nodes were connected at a threshold similarity of 120, the minimum value at which all points are connected into a single network.

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Household Economy 6.2.5. Discussion of the distribution of obsidian in Uxul

uniformity of obsidian sources in both the households of Uxul and for different types of tools. The first is the arrival of obsidian at Uxul through a single point of entry. That is to say that obsidian from different sources would have been gathered somewhere else, for example a trading hub, from where it then arrived at Uxul in a single assemblage including multiple sources. The second explanation is that there was a single distribution platform (for example a marketplace) in Uxul, where obsidian arrived from different sources, but where everyone had access to the same assemblage of obsidian materials. A single point of entry combined with multiple local exchange platforms, multiple points of entry with one exchange platform, or a single point of entry with a single exchange platform, are all scenarios that could potentially result in the present pattern. However, multiple points of entry combined with multiple exchange platforms (functionally restricted to either specific parts of the site or to people of different socio-economic status) would very likely lead to much less similar assemblages in different parts of the site and/ or along the socio-economic spectrum. However, the fact that no correlations were found between household wealth and the relative amounts of obsidian it had access to, nor between rank and the ability to obtain Central Mexican obsidian, both grey and green, supports the hypothesis of the existence of a single marketplace where everyone had access to the same obsidian assemblages, without formal restrictions based on status.

The high level of co-occurrence of the same Central Mexican and Guatemalan sources used for the same types of artifacts seems to indicate that different sources were no longer distinguished from each other by the time they reached Uxul. Differences in the proportions of obsidian sources used for different types of artifacts are better explained by the state of processing in which obsidian arrived at Uxul, rather than by active consumer choices about using obsidian from different sources for different goals. Indeed, polyhedral cores seem to have arrived at Uxul mainly in at least partially prepared form, making these the objects of choice for the local prismatic blade industry. Bifacial tools, on the other hand, seem to have arrived at Uxul as fully finished objects made at or near their almost exclusively Central Mexican sources. The lack of otherwise clear separations of types of obsidian products by their original source indicates that raw materials from different sources were probably mixed by the time they arrived at Uxul, and that consumers were more concerned with the shapes and types of processing of obsidian materials than with their geological origins. Furthermore, the fact that household groups from the center of the site and the peripheries have a significantly high degree of similarity in the obsidian sources they had access to seems to conform to the homogenizing effect predicted by models of market exchange as posited in the distributional approach (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155; Hirth 1998; Hutson 2021; MoholyNagy et al. 2013, 87; Shaw 2012, 120). A similar pattern was observed at Tikal, where little difference between residential groups in terms of the number of attributed sources of obsidian associated with them was found (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 85–87). However, at Tikal, the further away one goes from the center of the site, the lower the number of different sources identified becomes, consistent with a fall-off curve effect resulting in a marked decrease in artifact diversity for all types of durable artifacts (Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 85–86). Such an effect was not seen in Uxul, where no significant systematic difference in quantities of obsidian or the types of artifacts could be detected between households at the center of the site and those on the periphery. This pattern indicates that Uxul households likely obtained their obsidian through a single platform and through similar mechanisms.

While there are differences between households in the amounts of obsidian they owned, their proportions of Pachuca obsidian, and the types of obsidian artifacts they used, these differences do not correspond to patterns that would be expected if the obsidian trade and distribution were highly controlled by elites. Instead, the differences between households in both the amounts of obsidian they owned and the types of tools they used are better explained by differences in household specialization and active choices of Uxul’s inhabitants based on their specific needs, rather than on differential formal access. The patterns seen here thus conform to the homogenizing effect predicted by models of market exchange, meaning that all or most obsidian at Uxul was commercially available to anyone who needed it and could afford it (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155; Hirth 1998; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 87; Shaw 2012, 120). The only household group that does not conform entirely to the pattern presented above is group M. The household had both a different composition of obsidian sources represented in its assemblage and by far the highest overall proportion of obsidian of the households considered here. Out of the present sample, group M seems to have been the only household to have had access to an exclusive source of obsidian outside of normal market exchange, which was related to land tenure and its exploitation. This may also be an indication that group M played a special role that was related either to specialized activities and/or to longdistance trade (a hypothesis reinforced by the relatively high proportion of Central Mexican obsidian found here,

While the elite may have played a role in the organization of the long-distance obsidian trade (Moholy-Nagy 1999, 307), they do not seem to have restricted the distribution of obsidian, as both commoners and elites had access to the same assemblage of obsidian sources, and there was no clear difference in the relative amount of obsidian they were able to obtain. The similarity of the sources of obsidian represented at the extensively excavated households in Uxul shows that all inhabitants had access to the same exchange sphere. Indeed, there are two possible explanations, or a combination of the two, for the observed mixing and 245

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands as well as by the presence of an exclusive type of foreign ceramics (see 6.1.5.1 Distribution of stylistic groups)).

wind, breath, fertility, and centrality as mentioned above (Andrieu, Rodas, and Luin 2014, 141; Kovacevich 2013, 258; Taube 1998, 2005, 23). Because of the durability of the material, and the long tradition of its use and symbolism dating back to the Olmecs, the Maya seem to have related jade with antiquity, both symbolically through its ritual use to communicate with the ancestors, and as precious heirlooms that could be passed down through generations (Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018, 457; Taube 2005, 23).

Overall the analysis of obsidian at Uxul shows that the site was well integrated in terms of its obsidian trade, both internally and externally. At a local level, households had access to obsidian on an equal basis, rather than depending on their formal status or location within the settlement. Both the wealthy and the poor, as well as the centrally located and those living on the periphery, enjoyed similar access to the obsidian trade and were integrated into at least this aspect of the economy to a similar degree. Furthermore, at the regional and inter-regional level, Uxul as a whole was well integrated into the long-distance obsidian trade network of the Maya Lowlands and beyond. Indeed, it may well have played an important role in the distribution of Central Mexican obsidian in particular, with a location at the nexus of inland trading routes and between regions of relatively low access to the exotic material to the north and high access to the south.

While, much like for polychrome ceramics, it is often assumed that greenstone production and exchange were under the exclusive control of elites, there is increasing evidence throughout the Maya region that shows that this exotic, high-value material was also available to nonelites (Andrieu, Rodas, and Luin 2014; Hutson 2017b, 309; Kovacevich 2013, 255; Rochette 2009; Shaw 2012, 121). Few actual jade workshops have been identified, and most of the links between jade manufacture and elites have been found in caches, burials, and ritual contexts, making the precise connection difficult to study fully (Andrieu, Rodas, and Luin 2014, 142). However, there is increasing evidence that non-elites were in some cases involved in greenstone processing, further undermining the long-held assumption of a clear separation between elite and commoner economies (Andrieu, Rodas, and Luin 2014; Freidel, Reese-Taylor, and Mora-Marín 2002; Hutson 2017b, 309; Inomata 2001b, 321; Kovacevich 2007, 2013; Martin 2001a, 177–78; Rochette 2009, 205; Shaw 2012; Wells 2006, 272). It is often argued, however, that non-elite craft producers of jade artifacts were most likely attached manufacturers, producing artifacts on commission for the elite who controlled the raw materials, placing production under elite control even when they did not participate directly in production processes. Multistage or segmented manufacturing strategies have also been suggested for jade manufacture (Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018, 457; Wells 2006, 283). In such a case, groups of varying socio-economic status would have participated in different stages of jade production, playing different roles at different steps of the production process, and being responsible for the crafting of different types of artifacts. The crafting of blanks and simple jade objects probably carried different meaning than the carving of elaborate finished artifacts (Andrieu, Rodas, and Luin 2014, 160; Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018, 457), conveying a different status to specialists at different levels, but with a separation between elites and non-elites in their access to and use of the product that is not as clear-cut as it once was suggested. New evidence suggests that there were also cases of independent production of wealth objects, such as jade artifacts, in non-elite contexts, and outside of elite control altogether (Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018; Rochette 2009, 2014).

6.3. Greenstone: production and consumption Jadeite is a pyroxene mineral composed of mainly sodium, aluminum, and silicates. The Motagua fault zone in the Guatemalan Highlands (some 320 km to the south of Uxul) is one of only six known sources of jadeite worldwide, and the only source known in Mesoamerica (Kovacevich 2013, 258). Depending on its exact chemical composition, Mesoamerican jadeite can be green, blue, lavender, white, pink, or black in color (Kovacevich 2013, 258). To the ancient Maya green jade was especially important, as the green or green-blue color symbolized concepts such as maize, fertility, centrality, axis mundi, nobility, and life’s essence (Kovacevich 2013, 258). Jadeite is a very hard mineral, scoring 6.5 to 7.0 on the Mohs scale of hardness (Kovacevich 2013, 258). This means that it was a time-consuming and difficult material to work, but it was very durable (Kovacevich 2013, 258). This also made it an expensive resource, consolidating the connection between possession of jade artifacts and socio-economic status. The scarcity and durability of the material no doubt contributed to its value. Much of jade processing happened near its source, and jade was largely exported from there in finished forms (Andrieu and Forné 2010). However, in some cases, though this is rare, jade workshops were found in the Maya Lowlands, showing that they sometimes also imported raw materials (Andrieu and Forné 2010; Kovacevich 2007, 2013; Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018). In ancient Maya culture, greenstone, much like polychrome ceramics, was a resource that is widely considered to have been a marker of status for the Maya. Depictions of rulers in Classic Maya art systematically include images of jade, inextricably linking the resource to political and social power (Andrieu, Rodas, and Luin 2014, 141; Taube 2005, 23). Jade is often related to concepts of rulership, authority, and wealth, as well as themes of water, maize,

Jade objects, especially because of their potential for long social lives, may not fit into a strict dichotomy between commodities and gifts, and may instead have moved between such categories (Andrieu, Rodas, and Luin 2014, 246

Household Economy 141; Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018, 457). Because of its physical properties, jade can have particularly long lifehistories, may be reworked, and can serve as heirlooms or inalienable possessions and be curated over hundreds of years, both privately and publicly, hidden and displayed (Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018, 457). While a lot of jade seems to have circulated through reciprocal exchange between elites through gift-giving and tribute (Kovacevich 2013; McAnany 2010, 289–99), some types of jade were also traded in non-elite contexts (Kovacevich 2013; Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018, 457). Some forms of jade seem to have been restricted to elites, while others (including beads and blanks) circulated more widely through market exchange (Kovacevich 2007, 2013; Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018, 457). Furthermore, there is some evidence to suggest that jade beads and celts may have been used as mediums of exchange, as a form of currency, throughout ancient Mesoamerica (Kovacevich 2007; Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018, 457).

beads of varying size and quality. Additionally, ten parts of ornaments, five celts, three dental incrustations, three earspools, a small mano, a pendant in the shape of a frog, a small ball, a large slab, and six pieces of production debris were found. A sample of the greenstone artifacts found in Uxul can be seen in Figure 6.12. The beads weighed between 0.3 and 1.7 g, measured between 0.6 and 4.2 cm in diameter, and between 0.2 and 1.4 cm long. Unfortunately, because of inconsistencies in the inventory, the full dimensions of ten of the beads are unknown. Most of the beads are circular and flat, though at least nine were elongated with a rectangular or oval profile. Most had a biconical perforation, although six had a cylindrical one. The fragments of ornaments correspond to pieces with a polished surface, of which the original shape could not be reconstructed. Some had incisions or geometric raised designs, and they weighed between 0.1 and 11 g. The undetermined fragments of greenstone weighed between 0.1 and 39.1 g, varying greatly in size, shape, and quality. Of the celts for which the total weights could be determined, one weighed 23 g and measured 6.5 × 3.6 × 0.9 cm (found in group K), one weighed 63 g and measured 5.3 × 3.2 × 1.9 cm (found in group M), one weighed 94 g and measured 6.8 × 4.1 × 1.9 cm (found in group Ma’ax, j. in Figure 6.12), and the largest weighed 142 g and measured 8.2 × 4.1 × 3.0 cm (found in group K). The last celt, found in group Kulte’, was fragmentary, and its dimensions were not recorded. The mano (k. in Figure 6.12), found in group K, weighed 120 g and measures 9.9 × 3.3 × 2.3 cm. One earspool, found in group E, weighed 1.2 g and measured 1 cm in diameter and 1.3 cm in length. A second (h. in Figure 6.12), broken, was found in the palace group K, weighed over 1.4 g, measured 1.9 cm in diameter, and was 1.4 cm thick. The dimensions of the third, found in Ya’ab, were not recorded in the inventory. The large greenstone slab (l. in Figure 6.12) found in group K was broken (only two fragments of it were found and its total dimensions are unknown), weighed over 244 g, was 1.4 cm thick and at least 11.5 × 9.8 cm large, with flat smooth surfaces and a straight rounded edge. The frog pendant (i. in Figure 6.12), found in group K’anbul, weighed 1.7 g, measured 1.8 × 1.5 × 0.6 cm, and had a three-way perforation at the back of the head. The small ball was fragmentary, and its total weight and dimensions are unknown. Dimensions and descriptions of the production debris and dental incrustations are missing from the inventory.

Non-jadeite greenstones were often used in the same ways as jade, although the material is of lesser quality. These artifacts have been termed as “social jade”, as it is clear that people knew the difference, but greenstones were used to symbolize jade: jade could be substituted by known fakes, still referencing the same ritual and social meanings (Kovacevich 2013, 258). Highly valued jade artifacts sometimes seem to have had similar counterparts made of lesser quality materials that circulated more widely, and in fact would have contributed to the value of the original (Kovacevich 2013, 258–59; Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018, 457). These gradations of value, as well as the existence of social jade, imply that jadeite and greenstones would have circulated in multiple spheres of the economy (Kovacevich 2013, 259). It is difficult, however, to distinguish between different qualities of jadeite and other greenstones. While there is evidence to suggest that ancient Mesoamerican populations were indeed able to do so (Kovacevich 2013, 259), I will here refer to these materials simply as “greenstone”, as an analysis for the further classification of the exact materials was not performed at Uxul. Thus, the term greenstone is here used to refer to artifacts that are assumed to have jadeite as a major component, although some are certainly lesser-quality greenstones, or were not mineralogically pure. 6.3.1. Greenstone in Uxul In total, 95 greenstone artifacts were recorded at Uxul. Their inventory was performed partially by the author, Karen Hildebrandt, Laura Heise, and Annkatrin Benz. An abridged version of the present analysis was also published in a prior article (see Barnard 2021). Most of the greenstone artifacts are undetermined pieces (33) most of which may be either pieces of mosaic, debris resulting from production processes, or broken-off pieces of larger artifacts that could not be reconstructed. The second most abundant type of greenstone artifacts (32) were

6.3.1.1. Find contexts Most of the greenstone artifacts were found in domestic contexts, though one fragment of an ornament was found in the canal leading to the western aguada, an earspool and an undetermined fragment were found in the “Acropolis” group E, and one ornament fragment was found in the context of the ballcourt group C. The remaining 91 pieces of greenstone were found in the residential contexts of groups K, Ak’, Bebtun, G, I, Lol, 247

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 6.12. Sample of the greenstone artifacts found in Uxul, including five beads (a: group K; b: group Q; c: group I; d: group K; e: group Ma’ax; f: group Ma’ax), a piece of an ornament (g: group K), a broken earspool (h: group K), a stylized frog pendant (i: group K’anbul), a celt (j: group Ma’ax), a mano (k: group K), and a large slab (l: group K) (photographs taken by author, Uxul Archaeological Project).

K, K’áak’, K’anbul, Kulte’, M, Ma’ax, Q, and Ya’ab. The distribution of all greenstone artifacts found in Uxul can be seen in Table 6.42. Most of the artifacts were found in construction fill or collapse layers, but seven were found in burial contexts (including two dental incrustations in the mass grave of group Q, two beads and a dental

incrustation in the “prince’s tomb” in group K, and two beads in another burial in group K). Uxul conforms to the observation elsewhere in the Maya Lowlands that while greenstone tends to be concentrated in high-status contexts, commoners seem to have had 248

Household Economy

Undetermined

Bead

Ornament

Production debris

Celt

Dental incrustation

Earspool

Ball

Mano

Pendant

Slab

Total

Table 6.42. Distribution of greenstone artifacts found at Uxul

K

5

14

3

–

2

1

1

–

1

–

1

28

Ak’

–

1

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

2

F

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

K’áak’

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

K’anbul

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

–

1

Kulte’

1

–

–

–

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

2

M

3

9

2

–

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

15

Bebtun

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

G

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

Lol

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

Ma’ax

1

3

–

–

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

5

Q

5

1

1

–

–

2

–

–

–

–

–

9

I

–

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

Ya’ab

12

3

–

6

–

–

1

1

–

–

–

23

C

–

–

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

E

1

–

–

–

–

–

1

–

–

–

–

2

Western aguada

–

–

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

33

32

9

6

5

3

3

1

1

1

1

95

Other

IV

III

II

I

Context

Total

access to it, and the material in itself was not formally restricted to the elite. The residential group with the largest amount of greenstone artifacts was palace group K, with 28 pieces. These consisted of not only beads and undetermined pieces, but also pieces of ornaments, two celts, a mano, an earspool, a dental incrustation, and the large slab. However, 24 were found in the context of five relatively poor category IV households (one in group I, and 23 in the household groups Ya’ab 1, Ya’ab 5, Ya’ab 6, and Ya’ab 9). These were somewhat less elaborate, however, and included mainly beads, production debris, the small ball, and undetermined pieces, although an earspool was also found in group Ya’ab. Furthermore, 17 pieces of greenstone were found in five category III households (one in group Bebtun, one in group G 2, one in group Lol 2, five in group Ma’ax 1, and nine in group Q), which were well-off but not part of the extremely wealthy elite. Besides beads and undetermined pieces, these included pieces of ornaments, a celt, and two dental incrustations. The remaining 22 greenstone artifacts were found in six category II households (two in group Ak’, one in group F 1, one in group K’áak’ 1, one in group K’anbul, two in group Kulte 1, and 15 in group M). Besides beads,

undetermined pieces, and fragments of ornaments, these include two celts and the frog pendant. The pattern seen here, with more and higher quality pieces of greenstone being found in elite contexts, indicates that it is likely that a system of gift-giving and tribute accounts for at least some of the elite greenstone, especially for high-quality pieces (Kovacevich 2013, 257). However, a good portion of greenstone seems to have circulated in an exchange system where it was available to anyone. Furthermore, the high numbers of greenstone artifacts found in groups K and M may be attributed to the particularly extensive excavations carried out at those household groups. The fact that for most of the households where greenstone was found only one piece was identified, and that several of these households were not extensively excavated, makes this category of artifact especially vulnerable to sampling error. It is not clear, then, whether the pattern of varying quantities and qualities of greenstone found in wealthier households is due to their better access to the material, or to sampling error produced by an excavation bias in favor of wealthier households. Still, the large quantities of greenstone found within the Ya’ab 249

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands residential area (23 pieces), the second highest amount out of anywhere at the site, is remarkable and deserves a more thorough analysis (see 6.3.2 Greenstone artifact production below).

were found, the most out of anywhere at the site except for the palace group K, where much more extensive excavation was carried out. Unlike in the palace group, however, many of the pieces of greenstone from group Ya’ab were not finished. At least six of the pieces are small unworked pieces of greenstone, possibly corresponding to production waste. Furthermore, an unfinished greenstone earspool was found in the patio of household Ya’ab 5, on top of the patio floor, as well as a block of limestone used as an earspool polisher showing negative imprints of ear ornaments corresponding to the shape of the unfinished earspool (see Figure 6.13) (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015, 297). Neither of these has been recorded in the inventory yet, and it is unknown at the time of writing whether the earspool

6.3.2. Greenstone artifact production: the Ya’ab workshop 6.3.2.1. Greenstone workshop in Uxul As discussed above, the production of greenstone in Maya society was most often performed by elites (Shaw 2012, 135). However, at Uxul, evidence was found for a greenstone-carving location in one of the lower status household contexts. Indeed, in the households belonging to the Ya’ab complex, 23 pieces of greenstone in total

Figure 6.13. Unfinished greenstone earspool and earspool polisher found in group Ya’ab (photographs taken by Annkatrin Bentz, Uxul Archaeological Project).

250

Household Economy corresponded directly to one of the negative imprints on the polisher. The earspool polishing block is very similar to one found at the site of Cancuen within the context of its palace complex (Andrieu, Rodas, and Luin 2014, 150; Kovacevich 2013, 264; Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018, 465). Additionally, a number of flint, obsidian, quartz, and other ground stone tools were found which may have been used in greenstone processing (for example drills, carvers, and abrasives), although use-wear and trace analysis were not performed to confirm this. The tools were mainly found on the most recent floor level of the patio of household Ya’ab 5.

objects that could be commoditized easily, rather than on finely crafted elaborate objects. More elaborate ornaments may have been crafted in elite settings, as was often the case in Maya societies (Andrieu, Rodas, and Luin 2014; Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018, 457), though no evidence for this was identified in Uxul. Regardless of who supplied the materials, and who were their primary consumers, however, it is clear that non-elite carvers would have profited personally by creating small greenstone objects to be traded with non-elite consumers (Kovacevich 2013; Wells 2006, 284), as attested by the presence of greenstone beads and other small pieces in household contexts of every wealth category at Uxul. Furthermore, the relative distance between the center of power at the palace complex K and household group Ya’ab (it would have taken approximately 15 minutes to walk from one to the other), belonging to distinct neighborhoods, brings into question the presence of a direct and controlling connection between the two. Even if Uxul’s elite were the primary commissioners of greenstone objects, direct physical control over their manufacture would have been minimal at best, due to the physical independence of the Ya’ab complex. At the very least, even with some degree of elite control over the greenstone industry, carvers in Ya’ab would have had access to large amounts of debitage resulting from the production of more elaborate objects, giving them the opportunity to use it to produce small beads and ornaments for market exchange (following Kovacevich 2013, 271).

It is clear that the residential complex of Ya’ab was home to a jade and/or greenstone workshop during its last occupation phase dated to the Late Classic period on the basis of associated ceramics. The artifacts relating to this workshop are analyzed in more detail in a master’s thesis by Annkatrin Benz. This discovery implies that at least some of the greenstone imported to Uxul arrived in an unprocessed form, after being transported over several hundreds of kilometers. While producers would have taken great care to waste as little material as possible, and there are many cases known throughout the Maya area of waste products resulting from the manufacture of one type of artifact being transformed into other, smaller artifacts (Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018), at least some of the imported material would have been lost. Blocks of greenstone are particularly heavy, making them difficult to transport, and workshops outside of the source region are rare (Andrieu and Forné 2010). However, no large blocks of unworked greenstone were found here (as they were in the workshop identified in Cancuen, for example (Andrieu and Forné 2010, 948)), and none with traces of cortex, indicating that it is likely that raw materials were imported in smaller prepared batches, further minimizing production waste as well as transportation costs. Still, in the case of Uxul, the value of producing greenstone artifacts locally, and having local control over the types of artifacts that were made and traded clearly outweighed the added transport costs associated with importing raw materials, some of which would ultimately be discarded.

6.3.2.2. Comparison with another Maya Lowlands jade workshop Uxul is not the only Lowland Maya site where production of greenstone ornaments has been identified in a non-elite context. At Cancuen production of ritual paraphernalia, including pyrite mirrors and greenstone ornaments, was identified in non-elite contexts (Andrieu and Forné 2010; Kovacevich 2007). There too, a jade workshop was identified in the patio of a modest household group in the north of the site (Andrieu and Forné 2010, 947). The discovery of the jade workshop in Cancuen, however, included much larger quantities of jade (an impressive 3259 pieces (Andrieu and Forné 2010, 947)) than those found in Ya’ab, indicating that the activity was probably much less intensively performed in Uxul than Cancuen. This may indicate that while specialists in Cancuen produced large quantities of jade objects over a short period of time (the history of the workshop is estimated to have lasted only about 40 years) for export (Andrieu and Forné 2010), producers in Ya’ab more likely produced much smaller numbers of greenstone artifacts mainly for local trade and use. The disparity in quantities of greenstone between Cancuen and Uxul, however, may also simply be related to their respective distance from the source, with Uxul being situated more than three times as far from the Motagua valley than Cancuen. A final possibility for the differences in quantities is the fact that in Cancuen, two refuse deposits were identified near the workshop location, which were

It is possible that this workshop in a relatively lowstatus household corresponds to the presence of attached manufacturers who produced greenstone objects primarily on commission for the elite of Uxul. However, is it becoming clear that the long assumed dichotomy between attached and independent specialists often doesn’t represent the full range of the organization of specialized craft production in ancient Maya culture (Kovacevich 2013, 257; Wells 2006, 283). Instead, multistage or segmented manufacturing strategies, with groups of various socio-economic statuses participating in different stages of production, may have been employed for the crafting of such high-value goods (Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018, 457; Wells 2006, 283). Indeed, since mostly blanks, beads, and simple ornaments were found within the context of Ya’ab, it is likely that the focus of the greenstone workshop here was on simple 251

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands clearly used for the disposal of production waste (Andrieu and Forné 2010, 948). In Ya’ab, however, only the surface of the patio where production took place was excavated, resulting in only odd pieces that were left behind, but obscuring how much refuse would actually have been produced by the activity (since the workshop was discovered during the final field season of the Uxul project it was not possible to perform more extensive excavations in the area which might have revealed workshop refuse deposits and the wealth of information they would have yielded about production practices).

Rodas, and Luin 2014; Melgar Tísoc and Andrieu 2016, 1066), indicating that this multistage strategy may not have been related exclusively to socio-economic class, but also to geographic distribution. Signs of the final stages of jade earspool and bead production, similar to the ones found in Uxul, were identified at the sites of La Corona (Andrieu and Roche 2015), El Perú-Waká (Marken 2011), Naachtun (Andrieu 2014a), and Calakmul (Domínguez Carrasco and Folan 1999), suggesting that these cities may have imported preforms from either Cancuen or another primary jade workshop (Melgar Tísoc and Andrieu 2016, 1066). Production debris found in the Uxul workshop, however, suggests that some earlier production steps before polishing were also carried out here, indicating that Uxul did not exclusively receive blanks to be finished, but also at least some material in a rawer state. Thus, the multistage production strategy clearly identified in Cancuen, both geographically and socio-economically, is not reproduced in the Ya’ab workshop in Uxul, though a more thorough analysis of the production debris is needed for a more complete picture of the production strategies carried out here.

A significant difference between the greenstone workshop identified in Ya’ab and the one from a nonelite context in Cancuen is the organization of production phases. Indeed, in the Cancuen workshop, it appears that production was concentrated almost exclusively on the manufacture of preforms, unfinished objects such as beads and earspools (Andrieu and Forné 2010, 948; Melgar Tísoc and Andrieu 2016, 1066). Indeed, almost no indications of final steps in the production process, such as polishing or the drilling of holes, were found in the context of this workshop (Andrieu and Forné 2010, 948; Andrieu, Rodas, and Luin 2014). Three earspool and bead polishers were, however, found in the context of the palace complex (Andrieu, Rodas, and Luin 2014, 152; Kovacevich 2013, 264; Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018, 465). This corresponds to the multistage organization model of jade production proposed for ancient Maya societies, where groups of varying socio-economic status participated in different stages of production (Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018, 457; Wells 2006, 283). In this case, it seems that low-status specialists were responsible for the shaping of blank preforms that would be processed to a finished, meaningful stage in the high elite contexts of Cancuen. In Uxul, on the other hand, while less is known about the exact production steps performed because of the relatively low amount of production debris found here, it is clear that at least the polishing step for greenstone earspools was performed as a normal part of production in a low-status context. There is no evidence in Uxul for further greenstone processing in elite contexts, meaning that there is no real evidence for a similar multistage organization of production. This also indicates that the elite may have had less control over the greenstone industry than in other Maya cities, and instead low-status producers seem to have been relatively independent in the performance of their craft and trade. This is further supported by the physical independence from elite contexts of the household group Ya’ab, which, contrary to the workshop in Cancuen (Andrieu, Rodas, and Luin 2014, 142), was located relatively far from the palace complex, and was not directly associated with any other high elite households, limiting any direct control the elite may have had over production processes.

A notable connection between the sites of Cancuen and Uxul is that both were under the control of the Calakmul polity during the Late Classic period (Andrieu and Forné 2010, 950; Martin and Grube 2008). Indeed, epigraphic evidence suggests that Cancuen was dominated by Calakmul in the year 650 CE, and direct trade connections between the two sites have been identified (Andrieu and Forné 2010, 950). Furthermore, traces of jade production (though no individual workshop) were discovered at the site of Calakmul as well (Melgar Tísoc and Andrieu 2016, 1065). It is possible, then, that the greenstone workshops of Cancuen and Uxul were part of the same economic strategy for the region that was under the influence of Calakmul (through direct control by Calakmul over this long-distance trade or through the less top-down processes of the development of shared trade routes in the region). Indeed, the two sites may, through their Calakmul connection, have had access to raw jade materials, and developed the same strategy of local processing of the materials and profiting from control over production, rather than importing finished artifacts. It is even possible that the workshop in Cancuen exported blank, unfinished preforms such as beads and earspools to sites like Uxul to be further processed, polished, and finalized there. A direct connection between Cancuen and Uxul can’t be verified without chemical testing of the common origin of the jade processed at both workshops, however, as well as a more detailed analysis of the production steps carried out in the Uxul workshop. However, this does point to a connection between the centers of Cancuen and Uxul during the Late Classic period, either through a direct trade route or indirectly through participation in the same Calakmuldominated network.

The relatively small number of finished artifacts in Cancuen suggests that the majority of artifacts were exported to other sites as preforms, where they were then presumably finished (Andrieu and Forné 2010; Andrieu,

While evidence for the greenstone workshop in the Ya’ab household group of Uxul is not very abundant, it is compelling. Greenstone workshops are rare anywhere in 252

Household Economy the Maya Lowlands (Andrieu and Forné 2010) making the discovery of one in Uxul particularly significant, and worthy of more detailed investigation. Almost all other known Maya jade workshops are located much closer to sources of jade in the Motagua Valley in Guatemala, where raw materials are processed and typically exported in finished form (Andrieu and Forné 2010; Rochette 2009). Only at the sites of Tikal, Calakmul, Palenque, and Kaminaljuyu were traces of local production outside of the source area also found, though only in elite and ritual contexts, and actual workshops were not identified there (Andrieu, Rodas, and Luin 2014, 142; Melgar Tísoc and Andrieu 2016). This absence of local jade workshops outside of the immediate source area can easily be explained by the high transport costs associated with moving excess amounts of heavy material over large distances, making the discovery of such a workshop in Uxul all the more remarkable. The workshop in Ya’ab does not fit the generally understood organization of Maya jade crafting either geographically or politically: it is located far from any jade sources, and there is no good evidence for any type of control by the elite over this exotic and expensive resource in terms of production.

34 inlays, ten discs,16 perforated discs, twelve rings, ten beads, six tools, six carved flowers, one anthropomorphic carved figure, two ear ornaments, two possible trumpets, one spoon-like object, and one carved star. The find contexts of the different types of shell artifacts are shown in Table 6.43. The artifact categories are based on the original work by Annkatrin Bentz, but more detailed categories can be found in her Master’s thesis. The vast majority of shell artifacts found in Uxul were found in residential contexts. Only two shell artifacts were found in non-residential contexts, namely an undetermined fragment in the construction fill of the ballcourt C, and a pendant in a collapse layer of ceremonial center group D. The remaining 1014 artifacts were found in 31 different household groups. This is contrary to patterns seen elsewhere in the Maya Lowlands, such as at Ceibal, where Late Classic shell materials were rarely associated with residential contexts (Sharpe 2019, 504). Most of the shell artifacts found in residential contexts in Uxul were sporadic finds with only a few shell artifacts in each household context, and at only ten household groups were more than five pieces were found. Unsurprisingly, these correspond to eight of the ten extensively excavated households (groups Ak’ (11 pieces), Baak (7), G (14), K (61), K’áak’ (12), M (68), Ma’ax (39), and Ya’ab (718)), as well as household groups I (14) and Q (21, found mainly in the context of the artificial cave containing a mass grave). Although extensive excavations were carried out in groups Wob and Pu’uk, only one and five pieces of shell were found there respectively. Documentation was lost for six artifacts, meaning that their find context is unknown. The large overrepresentation of shell material in group Ya’ab is linked to the presence of a shell-processing workshop in this group (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015) (see 6.4.2 Shell artifact production: the Ya’ab workshop below).

6.4. Shell: production and consumption Shell was a precious material throughout ancient Mesoamerica, used to make elaborate ornaments, ceremonial paraphernalia, and possibly used as currency (Freidel, Reese-Taylor, and Mora-Marín 2002; Velázquez Castro 2006). Marine invertebrate species such as gastropods, bivalves, starfish, and sea urchins were especially valued by the ancient Maya living both on the coast and inland for their use as craft materials for ornaments and tools (Sharpe 2019, 493). Because of the physical properties of marine shell, as well as its often distant origin when used in inland regions, the material is often characterized as prestige goods and objects of exchange (Trubitt 2003, 260). Marine shells were especially valuable because they were often durable, thick, easier to work than stone, and could have a beautiful colorful appearance (Sharpe 2019, 493). Furthermore, seashells were probably valued symbolically as well for their link to the watery underworld (Sharpe 2019, 493).

In total 1016 shell artifacts were found in Uxul. These were inventoried and analyzed by Annkatrin Benz, who examined the materials in detail for her Master’s thesis at the University of Bonn. For the purposes of the present study, I will take a more general perspective, focusing on the distribution of artifacts, of shells from different sources, and on production, without going into the detail of individual species or artifact dimensions and characteristics.

Because of the low numbers in groups that were not extensively excavated, their distribution is not considered representative, and further statistically significant analysis can be meaningfully performed only for the extensively excavated household groups. Still, because shell was found in a large number of different households, including not only 61 pieces in the wealth category I palace complex group K, but also 114 pieces in eleven wealthy category II households, 84 pieces in eight well-off category III households, and 749 pieces in nineteen relatively poor category IV household groups (30 pieces in ten households if group Ya’ab is not included), it is clear that shell as a material was not in any way restricted to the wealthy elite. Instead, it seems to have been a material that everyone had access to, although how equal that access was is difficult to gauge because of the low numbers per household and the excavation bias towards wealthier households.

The shell artifacts found in Uxul include 556 undetermined fragments, 270 undetermined worked pieces, 46 complete shells, 43 pendants (two of which were anthropomorphic),

While the material itself seems not to have been particularly restricted or inaccessible to non-elites, there are some differences in the types of shell artifacts found in

6.4.1. Shell in Uxul

253

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Bead

Disc

Earspool

Inlay

Ornament

Pendant

Ring

Tool

Trumpet

Complete shell

Undetermined

Total

Table 6.43. Distribution of shell artifacts found at Uxul

K

3

5

1

3

1

15

3

–

1

3

26

61

Ak’

–

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

3

7

11

Baak

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

6

7

Baalam

–

–

–

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

2

F

–

–

–

1

–

–

–

–

–

1

2

4

K’áak’

–

1

–

–

–

2

–

1

–

1

7

12

K’anbul

–

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

Kopo’

–

–

–

–

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

Kulte’

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

–

–

1

–

2

M

6

2

1

10

3

7

1

1

–

8

29

68

Pu’uk

–

1

–

–

–

–

–

1

–

–

3

5

Wob

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

–

–

–

–

1

B

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

1

Bebtun

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

3

3

Chiwoj

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

–

1

G

–

–

–

–

–

3

1

–

–

2

8

14

Ma’ax

–

2

–

1

–

5

1

–

–

2

28

39

O

–

–

–

–

1

–

–

–

–

3

4

Q

1

–

–

1

–

5

1

–

–

3

10

21

T’ool

–

–

–

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

Chi’ik

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

2

3

H

–

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

4

5

I

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

6

7

14

Kaa’p’el Jool

–

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

Kitam

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

1

Kusam

–

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

2

L

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

1

Meyajil

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

2

2

Péepem

–

–

–

–

1

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

R

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

1

Ya’ab

–

10

–

15

3

4

3

3

–

12

668

718

C

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

1

D

–

–

–

–

–

1

–

–

–

–

R

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

–

1

1

Unknown

–

–

–

1

–

–

–

–

–

1

4

6

10

26

2

34

9

43

12

6

2

46

826

1016

Other

IV

III

II

I

Context

Total

254

1

Household Economy households of different levels of wealth. Indeed, it seems that anthropomorphic shapes, beads, and ear ornaments were more likely to be found in wealthy category I or II households, while shell pendants were more likely to be found in category I, II, and III households. When group Ya’ab is not included in the distribution of shell artifacts, because artifacts there are more likely related to the production rather than consumption of shell artifacts, it becomes clear that shell ornaments such as inlays, rings, and flower shapes are also less common in relatively poor category IV households.

6.4.1.2. Extensively excavated households and their shell assemblages The examination of the shell assemblages of the extensively excavated households may shed more light on the distribution of this material. Shell materials were relatively rare at each of these households, most owning less than 1 shell artifact for every 1000 ceramic sherds. Especially group Wob, where only one shell artifact (a ring) was found, corresponding to 0.1 shell artifacts for every 1000 sherds, showed a particular scarcity of the material. Two of the household groups show a relative overrepresentation of the material, however, with group Ma’ax owning about 2 shell artifacts for every 1000 sherds, and group Ya’ab an impressive 14.7. The large quantities of shell material found in household group Ya’ab were almost all found within the context of a shell processing workshop where raw materials were processed and worked into finished artifacts (see 6.4.2 Shell artifact production: the Ya’ab workshop). The shell artifacts found in group Ma’ax were found mainly in mixed construction fill and collapse layers, obscuring their associations and the reason for the overrepresentation.

6.4.1.1. Shell sources and their distribution A potentially significant distinction between different types of shell in archaeological contexts is the natural habitat of the mollusks that produced them. Indeed, whether a species of mollusk is a marine, freshwater, or land animal determines their possible points of origin. In the case of Uxul, located some 180 km from the nearest coast (at roughly equal distance from the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean Sea) marine shell species found here would have been transported over great distances and can be considered a long-distance exchange good. Freshwater and land species, however, may have been local to the region of Uxul, though they may also have been imported overland from other, more distant sources. It was beyond the scope of the present research to study the exact habitat of individual species, potentially more specifically identifying sources. This means that a distinction cannot be made between local and non-local land and freshwater shell artifacts, but marine shells can be studied as the result of long-distance trade. In total, 262 shell artifacts were identified as belonging to marine species, 718 were freshwater species, 27 were land-based species, and 9 were not identified.

Shell artifacts, especially when made into intricate ornaments, can function as wealth and prestige objects that are sometimes strongly associated with elites. Furthermore, as an often long-distance resource, the import and trade of shell materials in Maya society is sometimes controlled by elite classes. In Uxul, however, there is no clear link between household wealth and the relative abundance of shell materials. In fact, when all ten of the extensively excavated households are considered, there is a very strong and significant correlation between household rank and its relative numbers of shell artifacts as expressed as a ratio of the ceramic sherds found there (r = .93, P = .00 < .01), meaning that poorer households owned more shell objects. Because this strong correlation is largely driven by the very large amounts of shell in group Ya’ab connected to its shell workshop, this correlation is not strictly related to consumption, however. Therefore, in order to better understand the relationship between household wealth and shell consumption, a correlation between household rank and relative numbers of shell artifacts excluding the Ya’ab assemblage is more significant. This shows a lack of statistical correlation between wealth and the relative numbers of shell artifacts in consumer households (r = .44, P = .24 > .1), indicating that wealthier households in Uxul did not systematically own larger relative amounts of shell.

There are not many clear distinctions between types of objects made from shells of different origins, but marine shells are overrepresented in several artifact types. While marine species represent only 25.8% of the total shell assemblage, 90% of beads, 77.8% of ornaments, 69.8% of pendants, 57.7% of discs, and 41.7% of rings were made of marine species, meaning that these types of artifacts were preferably made with marine shells rather than freshwater or land-based ones. Only earspools and trumpets (both of which are represented by only two examples each) were made exclusively from marine species. It is unclear whether these overrepresentations are due to the physical properties of marine shells or to their price (which would have been relatively high due to transport costs) and symbolic value. Complete shells also showed an overrepresentation of marine species (63%) and land-based species (26.1% vs. 2.7% of shells overall), and a marked underrepresentation of freshwater species (6.5% vs. 70.7% of shells overall). The overrepresentation of complete marine shells may be related to the import of shells as raw materials to be further processed for the production of shell artifacts in Uxul (see 6.4.2 Shell artifact production: the Ya’ab workshop below).

There are some differences in the types of shell artifacts found in the different households. For example, beads and earspools were only found in palace complex group K and the very wealthy household group M, while a trumpet was only found in the palace complex. Shell pendants were somewhat overrepresented in the palace complex K, but also found with relative frequency in groups G, K’áak’, M, Ma’ax, and Ya’ab. Shell inlays were overrepresented in household group M, but also found in groups K and Ma’ax. 255

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands General ornaments that did not belong to any of the abovementioned categories were present in groups K, K’áak’, M, and Ya’ab. Overall, however, there were no statistically significant correlations between household wealth and any of the artifact categories (whether the production-related artifacts from group Ya’ab are included or not), indicating that any patterns observed here are likely to be the result of sampling error.

This means that although we observe that marine shells were clearly overrepresented in wealthier households, the pattern is not statistically significant, and is likely due to sampling error rather than to an actual pattern. When group Ya’ab, as a producer, is left out of this statistical analysis because of its status as a producer of shell artifacts, a lack of statistical correlation between marine shell prevalence and household rank persists (r = –.04, P = .91 > .1). There are several possible explanations for the lack of a relationship between household wealth and the consumption of these long-distance products. The first is that despite their distant origins, marine shell was not actually more expensive than artifacts made of different shell species, either because transport costs were not directly reflected in their final price, or because freshwater and land-based species were also imported from distant locations, rather than being sourced locally, driving up their costs in a way similar to those of marine species. It is also possible, however, that, as was the case for polychrome ceramics for example, people tended to expend similar amounts of their wealth to obtain these relatively expensive objects. This would mean that while wealthy households may have been able to obtain more marine shell artifacts in absolute numbers, people along the socio-economic spectrum tended to own them in similar relative proportions. This would point to an exchange process where the resource was not highly controlled or restricted by a wealthy elite, but everyone was freely able to obtain marine shell artifacts in a market exchange system. Finally, it is possible that the consumers of these shell artifacts were not interested in the origins of the material, but rather in the type and appearance of the object they were buying. In this case, as can be seen for the distribution of obsidian from different sources, for example, shell materials would have been available on the market in a largely undifferentiated assemblage, and the point of origin of a particular artifact would not be reflected in its price. This is supported by the fact that shells of all origins were processed at the same workshop in group Ya’ab, indicating that while the raw materials may have

In almost all of these ten households, freshwater shells are the most abundant (see Table 6.44). Only in groups K, K’áak’, and M are marine shells more abundant, corresponding to 67.2%, 66.7%, and 63.2% respectively vs. 24.7% of the accumulated assemblages of the extensively excavated households in total. In household groups Ak’ (45.5%) and G (42.9%), as well household group Ma’ax (35.9%) to a lesser degree, marine shells are overrepresented, although they are not more abundant than freshwater shells. Marine shells are somewhat underrepresented at household group Ya’ab (15.7%), on the other hand. Land-based species correspond to the smallest category, representing only 1.7% of the accumulated assemblages, with only one or two found in most households except for Ya’ab, but where the higher number is consistent with the overall overrepresentation of shell artifacts. Overall, this means that the wealthiest households in the sample had significantly better access to marine shell species than the poorest one, but the relative underrepresentation of marine shells in group Ya’ab may have more to do with its role as producer of shell artifacts (see below), rather than with differences in consumption patterns. Despite the nature of marine shell as a long-distance trade item, which is expected to have been relatively more expensive than local resources because of higher transport costs, there is no significant statistical correlation between household rank and the relative amounts of marine shells as compared to shells from other origins (r = –.26, P = .46 > .1).

Table 6.44. Distribution of shell artifacts found in the extensively excavated households Total shell

Marine

Freshwater

Land-based

Unknown

Shell to ceramic ratio

Ak’

11

5 (45.5%)

5 (45.5%)

1 (9.1%)

–

0.41/1000

Baak

7

–

6 (85.7%)

1 (14.3%)

–

0.92/1000

G

14

6 (42.9%)

6 (42.9%)

2 (7.1%)

–

0.69/1000

K

61

41 (67.2%)

18 (29.5%)

2 (1.6%)

–

0.60/1000

K’áak’

12

8 (66.7%)

4 (33.3%)

–

–

0.89/1000

M

68

43 (63.2%)

20 (29.4%)

–

5 (7.4%)

0.52/1000

Ma’ax

39

14 (35.9%)

23 (59.0%)

2 (5.1%)

–

1.99/1000

Pu’uk

5

1 (20.0%)

3 (60.0%)

1 (20.0%)

–

0.31/1000

Wob

1

–

1 (100%)

–

–

0.13/1000

Ya’ab

718

113 (15.7%)

596 (83.0%)

7 (1.0%)

2 (0.3%)

14.66/1000

Total

936

231 (24.7%)

326 (72.9%)

16 (1.7%)

7 (0.7%)

2.39/1000

256

Household Economy arrived in Uxul separately from different sources, they were mixed to a certain extent during their processing, and may have become undifferentiated except for their appearance and function by the time they were presented to the consumer. This last possibility is of course not mutually exclusive with the other possible explanations. All of these possibilities are consistent with shell artifacts having been primarily obtained by consumers through a market exchange system, where anyone who wanted them and could afford them was able to obtain them.

combined Ya’ab shell assemblage contains artifacts that were related to consumer behavior rather than to production practices, it is impossible to separate between these and the entire combined assemblage here considered as a whole and related to the Ya’ab workshop. The Ya’ab 5 workshop was characterized by large quantities of undetermined fragments (447 pieces) and undetermined pieces that had been worked (221), as well as a relatively large quantity of complete shells (12), inlays (15), discs (10), and rings (3) compared to other households, especially of similar wealth, as well as two ornaments. Furthermore, a relatively large quantity of obsidian, quartz, and chert tools that may have been used for the processing of shell material were found in association with this workshop (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015). The contents and details of the workshop are discussed more in detail in the Master’s thesis by Annkatrin Benz. A specific refuse deposit related to the workshop was not found, meaning that the only pieces of shell and tools related to their processing were artifacts or fragments that were discarded or lost, but not removed from the working area. The workshop assemblage found here is therefore most likely not representative of the entire production process, and important elements, tools, production errors, and production steps may be obscured from the present assemblage.

Total numbers of shell artifacts are low everywhere except for group Ya’ab, and relationships between household wealth and the types of shell artifacts they owned are obscured because of this. There is no evidence, however, that the consumption of shell artifacts of any kind was directly related to wealth. Instead, the distribution of shell artifacts of different types and sources is consistent with these objects having been distributed through free market exchange, and at the very least was not highly controlled by an elite class. 6.4.2. Shell artifact production: the Ya’ab workshop It is clear that group Ya’ab shows a considerable overrepresentation of shell material compared to any of the other household groups in Uxul, with more than ten times the number of pieces than the household with the second largest quantity (group M with 68 shell artifacts). The reason for this overrepresentation is the existence of a shell processing workshop in group Ya’ab (Benz, Ley Lara, and Cetina Batún 2015). The workshop was located on the living surface of the last occupation phase of the patio of the relatively poor (wealth category IV) household Ya’ab 5, dated to the Late Classic period. It should be noted that the Ya’ab residential group is composed of eleven distinct households organized in single structures or separate patio groups. While the clear traces of a physical workshop, including 563 pieces of shell, were found in the patio of household Ya’ab 5, another 165 pieces of shell were found in six of the surrounding Ya’ab households (households Ya’ab 1, 6, 7, 8, 10, and 11). These were found mainly in construction fill and collapse contexts, meaning that they were deposited as part of trash disposal strategies. Because of the close connection between the Ya’ab households, which were much closer connected than other households across the site, the trash used for construction fill within this complex was likely shared between the inhabitants of the different Ya’ab households, meaning that it can’t be definitively ascribed to a specific household. While it can’t be verified whether some of the shell pieces found within this wider complex may have ended up there as artifacts consumed by the group’s inhabitants, it is likely that a large portion of these artifacts originated from the shell processing workshop identified in the context of household Ya’ab 5. This is supported by the fact that no types or species of shell artifacts were found in any of the other Ya’ab households that were not also found in the workshop context, confirming the link between the assemblages. Therefore, while it is possible that the

The composition of marine vs. inland species of mollusks processed in the Ya’ab workshop is not completely representative of the composition of species found in Uxul overall. Indeed, at Ya’ab freshwater species are somewhat overrepresented (83.0% of the Ya’ab assemblage vs. 70.7% overall), while marine species were somewhat underrepresented (15.7% at Ya’ab vs. 25.8% overall), as were land-based species (1.0% at Ya’ab vs. 2.7% overall). However, the Ya’ab workshop does seem to have produced artifacts of all types of species found at Uxul, suggesting that, while it can’t be confirmed, it is likely that the Ya’ab workshop was responsible for the production of at least part of Uxul’s shell artifact consumption. The difference in composition of species represented at the consumer households and the Ya’ab workshop can have several explanations. First of all, it is possible, and maybe probable, that not all of the shell material found in consumer households was produced in the Ya’ab workshop, meaning that the shell assemblage available at markets did not have the same composition as that produced by Ya’ab. It is also possible that the households included in the present sample had a preference for certain types of shell artifacts made from marine species, leading to their overrepresentation in these households. It is also possible, however, that the pattern observed here is simply due to sampling error rather than to an actual pattern, since, as discussed above, any correlation between the proportion of marine shell artifacts and household rank is not statistically significant. Of course, none of these possible explanations are mutually exclusive, and it is likely, in fact, that a combination of factors is responsible for the pattern observed here. 257

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands The presence of marine species, even though they were somewhat underrepresented, at this workshop also shows that marine shells were transported over large distances in an unworked or not fully processed state, to be further processed inland in Uxul. In fact, there was somewhat of an overrepresentation of complete marine shells in the Ya’ab workshop, with 10 out of the 12 complete shells found there being of marine origin (83.3% vs. 63.0% overall), meaning that complete, unworked marine shells were imported from the coast to be further processed in Uxul. The city did not just import finished shell products from the coast, but instead imported them in a raw state, and had control over their further processing. Similar to what was seen for greenstone, the desire to control the finished product seems to have outweighed the added transport cost of importing raw materials from distant locations.

a separation between the production and exchange of elite shell artifacts and non-elite ones, and both are likely to have been mostly independently manufactured and traded by the Ya’ab producers. It should be noted that the Ya’ab shell-processing workshop was found within the same patio and the same occupation phase as the greenstone workshop identified in Ya’ab (see 6.3.2 Greenstone artifact production: the Ya’ab workshop). While it is unclear whether the production of shell and greenstone artifacts was performed by the same individuals, it seems likely that the two activities were closely related, as they were performed by members of the same household and during the same time period. As such, the organization of the greenstone and shell workshops is undoubtedly related. The lack of evidence for direct oversight found for the greenstone workshop also holds for the shell workshop, suggesting that these were most likely not attached manufacturers. It is possible that they would have produced specific ornaments or artifacts on commission for wealthy elites (or anyone willing to pay), but the artisans would have profited from this. Furthermore, the distribution of shell artifacts in both wealthy and nonwealthy contexts suggests that this was not a controlled wealth-resource, and producers would have been able to freely trade their products in market exchange contexts where anyone had access to them. There is also no evidence for any type of multi-step organization for the production of shell objects, confirming the independence of the Ya’ab manufacturers. While it is possible that the elite of Uxul were involved in the organization of the import of especially the marine species obtained through long-distance trade, it is clear that this possible control did not extend significantly to their further processing.

The domestic nature of specialized shell production as a surplus item is not uncommon in the Maya Lowlands during the Classic period, as similar production activities were identified in domestic contexts at, for example, Tikal (Moholy-Nagy 1997), Caracol (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014), and Aguateca (Emery and Aoyama 2007). Contrary to Uxul, however, shell processing at Aguateca seems primarily to have been an elite activity, meaning the elite there had complete control over the precious resource (Emery and Aoyama 2007). At the Southern Maya Lowlands site of Tikal, production of shell artifacts was identified within a commoner domestic context where ornaments were produced for both elite and commoner consumption (Moholy-Nagy 1997). This organization of shell artifact production seems similar to that identified in Uxul, as no clear distinction is seen between shell ornaments for elites and non-elites, and both appear to have been made within the Ya’ab workshop. In Tikal, however, a distinction was seen between the types of shell used for elite objects (mainly Spondylus shells) and commoner ones, indicating a separation between the two industries (Moholy-Nagy 1997, 308). Although the same producers seem to have performed production of both elite and commoner objects, Moholy-Nagy (1997, 308) argues that these were attached manufacturers who produced prestige goods on commission, but who were also able to perform independent production with different materials for commercial exchange. While it is beyond the scope of the present research to study the distribution of individual species of shell throughout the site of Uxul, it is clear that no distinction was made between elites and non-elites in the use of marine, freshwater, or land-based shell, suggesting, that contrary to Tikal, no distinction between production systems was made in Uxul. In fact, when looking at the 10 shell fragments that were identified as Spondylus in Uxul, only one was found within the palace complex group K, five in two of the wealthy category II households, one in a category III household, and two in two relatively poor category IV households including group Ya’ab (the context is unknown for the last Spondylus artifact). This means that the one species of shell that was identified as a definite prestige object in Tikal was not exclusive to the elite in Uxul. There is no evidence in Uxul, contrary to Tikal, for

6.5. Textile: production Textiles were an important resource throughout ancient Mesoamerica and were widely traded as well as used for payment of tribute, and they were crucial components of Classic period exchange networks underlying political power (Chase et al. 2008, 127; Halperin 2008; ReentsBudet and Bishop 2020). Iconographically, the clearest depictions of tribute for the Classic Maya are shown as cloth bundles (Chase et al. 2008, 130). Textiles were also important identity markers, and used to signify the status of different members of society, with high-status individuals being depicted as wearing elaborate textiles (Chase et al. 2008, 130). Cloth production and weaving in particular are activities that are routinely associated with Maya women (BeaudryCorbett and McCafferty 2002, 52; Brumfiel and Robin 2008, 6; Chase et al. 2008; Halperin 2008; Hendon 2006; McCafferty and McCafferty 1994). A strong gender association has been found between ancient Maya women and textile production in iconographic representations, as well as in burial data (Chase et al. 2008, 133; Hendon 2006, 358–59; Joyce 2000, 68). Figurines and painted ceramics reinforce the association of women and weaving 258

Household Economy in Maya culture, as does the identification of Ix Chel as the goddess of weaving and her associations with birth and healing (Beaudry-Corbett and McCafferty 2002, 52–53; Halperin 2008; Hendon 2006, 360; Joyce 2000, 68). In some ways, however, this association has led to a homogenizing “woman the weaver” stereotype, depicting women as performing these tasks according to their own household needs and with no role in the community-wide economic system (Beaudry-Corbett and McCafferty 2002, 53; Hendon 2006, 355). For the Classic Maya, cloth was an important prestige good, and the association of elite women and cloth on monuments and figurines suggests that cloth-making was a high-status activity (Brumfiel 2006, 863; Brumfiel and Robin 2008, 6; McAnany and Plank 2001, 95). Indeed, household excavations across the Maya area have shown that tools used in cloth production tend to occur much more frequently in higher-status households within a community (Brumfiel 2006, 863; Brumfiel and Robin 2008, 6; Chase et al. 2008, 138; Halperin 2008; McAnany and Plank 2001, 95). To equate both elite and non-elite women with weaving may be reducing the status-linked nuances in gender roles among the Maya to a single untenable stereotype (McAnany and Plank 2001, 96). However, while stone, ceramic, and bone artifacts survive well in the archaeological record, wood and unbaked clay artifacts do not. Since many of the tools used in Classic Maya textile production were probably made from perishable materials, the available evidence for weaving may be skewed: tools made from more permanent materials may have been differentially available, and used more by higher status individuals, meaning that weaving in lower-class households may be obscured in the archaeological record (Chase et al. 2008, 128). The use of ceramic or stone spindles whorls would not have provided much functional advantage over less permanent materials, meaning that their use may have been related to a symbolic significance associated with female gender identity and as markers of status (McCafferty and McCafferty 2000, 42). Furthermore, while more frequently found in elite households, stone and ceramic malacates were certainly not exclusive to them, indicating that textile production was a common activity in lower-status households as well, albeit with a lower intensity (Halperin 2008).

presented as an integral part of a woman’s daily routine, part of her responsibilities on a par with activities such as maize grinding, cooking, and cleaning (Hendon 2006, 355). Thus, the occupation is often seen as too domestic to satisfy definitions of specialized economic production (Hendon 2006, 355; McCafferty and McCafferty 2000, 39). However, many textiles are produced not only for the use of the members of the household of the producer, but also widely for exchange outside of it through trade, gift exchange, or tribute payment (Hendon 2006, 355; McCafferty and McCafferty 2016, 381). Furthermore, cloth played an important role in society not only for practical purposes, but also for the celebration of births, weddings, funerals, and other events (Hendon 2006, 355; McCafferty and McCafferty 2016). Simple spindle whorls, as they reflect important economic activities, can be used to infer complex and behaviorally interesting practices (McCafferty and McCafferty 2016, 378). The exclusion of textile production, then, from scholarly study of specialized craft production may be misplaced, and stemming from deeply ingrained ideas about women’s work as inferior to men’s. This has likely hindered our full understanding of both the significance of textile production, and that of the role of women as important economic actors. The Maya generally used two different types of cotton for their textiles, as well as a number of non-cotton fibers, including henequen (or hemp), maguey, ceiba, yucca, palm, nettle, and cactus fibers (Chase et al. 2008, 127–28). Even feathers, rabbit hair, and human hair were sometimes spun, along with other materials (Chase et al. 2008, 128). Ethnographic studies show that a wide variety of fibers were probably spun at different times in different parts of Mesoamerica, the most widely used being cotton and maguey (Beaudry-Corbett and McCafferty 2002, 53). For the preparation of maguey fibers, two systems have been recorded ethnographically: using raw leaves and using cooked leaves (Beaudry-Corbett and McCafferty 2002, 53). The processing of cotton tends to be a bit less demanding than for maguey, but is still time-consuming (BeaudryCorbett and McCafferty 2002, 53). Decompaction is done by beating, sometimes multiple times, carding, or combing (Beaudry-Corbett and McCafferty 2002, 53). Despite different processing procedures, the spinning toolkit for various fibers includes similar components, including a wide range of tools, and required large amounts of water. Specifically, a typical toolkit would include spindles of varying sizes, whorls, containers for the fiber during spinning, containers supporting the spindle (if a supported spinning technique is used) (Beaudry-Corbett and McCafferty 2002, 54).

One reason for the gendered nature of textile production may be the long apprenticeship and high degree of skill required for the activity. In indigenous communities using the same or similar textile production technologies as the Classic Maya did, girls typically start learning at around 8 or 9 years of age (Hendon 2006, 365). This means that it is difficult for men to take up the craft later in life, so that the structure of the training process tends to reproduce the same gendered involvement over time (Hendon 2006, 365).

The tools that most affect the processing of fibers are the spindle and the whorl. Mesoamerican whorls are most often made of ceramic or stone circular objects, each with a center hole, and are used as counter-weights on a wooden spindle (McCafferty and McCafferty 2000, 42). They function to maintain rotational inertia on the spindle while raw fiber is twisted into thread (McCafferty and McCafferty 2000, 42).

Textile production, despite its importance for social identity, the economy, ritual life, and politics in Maya culture, is often not defined as an actual craft or specialization (Hendon 2006, 355). Because weaving and spinning are broadly defined as women’s activities, they tend to be 259

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands The two basic spinning methods that are attested ethnographically are the free-spindle method, performed while walking or standing, and supported spinning, where the spindle is supported in a small concave vessel (sometimes with a small partial perforation used to keep the point of the spindle in place) and the spinner is seated (Beaudry-Corbett and McCafferty 2002, 55; McCafferty and McCafferty 2000, 42). A variation on supported spinning involves the spinner rolling the spindle between the thigh and the palm of the hand (Beaudry-Corbett and McCafferty 2002, 55; McCafferty and McCafferty 2000, 42). Supported spinning requires a longer spindle and a large, flat, disk-like whorl (Beaudry-Corbett and McCafferty 2002, 55). Ash or lime is sometimes used on the fingers holding the whorl to make it spin more smoothly (Beaudry-Corbett and McCafferty 2002, 55).

two had more intricately modeled geometric designs, and two showed intricate figurative motifs (including a modeled flower around the base of the perforation (l. in Figure 6.14), and a carved motif that could not be further identified (e. in Figure 6.14)). While not all the spindle whorls were complete, their regular shapes and the way they were broken made it possible to estimate the original size and weight of the fragmentary ones. The malacates range in total weight between 6.3 and 32.4 grams. They had diameters ranging from 2.1 to 4.4 cm, with heights between 1 and 2.1 cm. Their central perforations (which could only be determined for those that were at least half complete), measured between 0.5 and 0.8 cm in diameter, and were all cylindrical. Whorl form and mass (diameter, weight, height, hole size, shape, etc.) control functional properties of whorl rotation and, therefore, relate to the quality of the thread that is produced (Beaudry-Corbett and McCafferty 2002, 55; McCafferty and McCafferty 2000, 43). A wider, discshaped whorl will produce a slower spin for a longer period than a taller, bead-like whorl (McCafferty and McCafferty 2000, 43). This means that typically, the smaller the whorl, the finer the yarn will be, and the tighter the twist (Beaudry-Corbett and McCafferty 2002, 61; McCafferty and McCafferty 2000, 43). A small whorl that rotates quickly allows for a fine thread with a low amount of material pulled down to spin the thread, as the fewer the number of fibers, the more twist is needed for its structural integrity (Beaudry-Corbett and McCafferty 2002, 61). A light whorl that has a large diameter would spin slower and produce a looser twist, and more fibers are therefore needed to make a solid thread. Thus, the weight of the whorl is related to the coarseness of the thread, while its diameter is related to the tightness of the twist (Beaudry-Corbett and McCafferty 2002, 61; McCafferty and McCafferty 2000, 43). Furthermore, the larger the hole of the whorl (because it determines the diameter of the spindle) the coarser the thread (BeaudryCorbett and McCafferty 2002, 61; McCafferty and McCafferty 2000, 43).

In the archaeological record, since the remains of actual textiles are very infrequent, especially in tropical lowland climates, textile production is most often identified by the presence of spindle whorls, perforated sherds, and bone artifacts such as needles and battens (Chase et al. 2008, 128; Hendon 2006, 357). The backstrap loom was widely used throughout Mesoamerica before European contact and is still used by some weavers today (Hendon 2006, 362). It is attached between a fixed point at one end and the weaver’s body at the other (Hendon 2006, 362). However, because many of the components of the weaving process are made of wood, although they can be made of bone, direct evidence of weaving is rare in the archaeological record. Therefore, evidence of textile production is typically limited to thread manufacture by spinning techniques. In this chapter, I will examine the evidence available for textile production in Uxul. I will analyze the direct evidence for this type of craft production through the examination of malacates (bead-like, specially made spindle whorls of either stone or ceramic) and bone needles and awls, as well as through the analysis of objects that may have been used for textile production (perforated discs made from reused ceramic sherds that may have been used as spindle whorls and partially perforated discs that may have been used as supports in supported spinning) but which cannot, however, be definitively linked to spinning, and may have had different functions.

Thus, the quality and size of the thread are dependent on the shape, size, and weight of the whorl that is used. In Uxul, the diameter of the whorls falls into two broad categories (see Figure 6.15), with most whorls (12 of them fall into this category) measuring between 2.1 and 3 cm in diameter, and the high point of the Poisson distribution curve at 2.2 cm, and the remaining six measuring between 3.3 and 4.4 cm diameter with the high point of the distribution curve at 3.5 cm. The total weight of the spindle whorls also falls into two broad categories (see Figure 6.16), with most weighing between 6.3 and 13.6 g continuously (12 of the malacates fall into this category), with the high point of the distribution curve at 12.5 g, while the remaining six weighed over 23.2 g. The height of the malacates seems to be rather continuous, being 1.4 cm on average and measuring between 1 and 2.1 cm. The height to diameter ratio (corresponding to the “shape” metric used

6.5.1. Malacates in Uxul 6.5.1.1. Typology In total, 18 spindle whorls, or malacates, were identified in Uxul. Of these, five were made out of ground stone, and the remaining 13 were ceramic. These are all half-spheres or spheroid in shape, with a centered perforation down the middle. Seven were complete, five were halves of spindle whorls, while the rest were fragmentary. A sample of the spindle whorls can be seen in Figure 6.14. Most of the malacates were plain, although eight of them showed simple lines around the diameter or around the perforation, 260

Household Economy

Figure 6.14. Sample of malacates found in Uxul by type (a., d., and g. are stone, the rest are ceramic) (photographs taken by author (c., d., f., h., i., j., k., m., o., p., q.), Annkatrin Benz (g.), and Laura Heise (a., b., l., n.), Uxul Archaeological Project).

261

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 6.15. Distribution of malacate diameters (in cm).

Figure 6.16. Distribution of malacate weight (in g).

262

Household Economy

Figure 6.17. Distribution of malacate height to diameter ratio.

to the Cholula one, as it fills a few of the gaps with types of malacates that were not present there.

by McCafferty and McCafferty (2000)), however, shows a dual distribution (see Figure 6.17), with most measuring continuously between 0.3 and 0.6, with the high point of the Poisson distribution curve at 0.6, and only three falling between 0.7 and 0.8 (meaning that these are relatively thick). The diameter of the perforations of the malacates presents a continuous distribution, with most measuring about 0.5 cm, much fewer measuring up to 0.8 cm.

Using these measurements, we can distinguish five types of malacates present in Uxul (see Table 6.45). Type A is by far the most common, with eight of the malacates having both a relatively small diameter and a low weight. These also have a relatively flat shape, with a low height to diameter ratio. Type B malacates (three) are very similar to type A in their low weight and small diameter, but they have a larger height to diameter ratio. Because of this, their weight tends to be the same as that of the heaviest type A malacates. Type C and D are both represented by a single artifact. Type C has a relatively high weight, but a small diameter and a large height to diameter ratio, being

McCafferty and McCafferty (2000) developed a general typology of spindle whorls, using the artifacts found at the site of Cholula. While not all the malacates found at Uxul fit neatly within the categories they determined, I use this typology as a basis for categorizing the Uxul malacates. As such, the present typology can be seen as a supplement Table 6.45. Malacate types found at Uxul Diameter (cm)

Height (cm)

Height/ diameter ratio

Perforation diameter (cm)

Weight (g)

Number of malacates

A

2–3

1.0 – 1.7

0.4 – 0.6

0.5 – 0.6

6 – 14

8

B

2–3

1.5 – 1.7

0.7 – 0.8

0.5

12 – 14

3

C

3

1.9

0.6

–

5.6

1

D

3.3

1.1

0.3

0.5

12

1

E

3 – 4.5

1.6 – 2.1

0.4 – 0.6

0.7 – 0.8

24 – 33

5

Total

2 – 4.5

1.1 – 2.1

0.3 – 0.8

0.5 – 0.8

5.6 – 33

18

Type

263

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands rather thick. Type D, on the other hand, is relatively light, but has a large diameter and a very low height to diameter ratio, as it is much flatter than type C. Type E whorls, which include the remaining five malacates, are heavy and have a large diameter, with average height to diameter ratios. All of those for which perforation diameter could be determined also have relatively large perforations (0.7–0.8 cm). While the perforation diameters of type C malacates are unknown, it should be noted that only type E malacates had above-average sized perforations, meaning that these would have produced relatively coarse thread.

spun (Chase et al. 2008, 130). So, while the differences in typology identified here can give us some insight into the differences between threads that were spun with them, they do not tell us exactly what was being spun. 6.5.1.2. Stone vs. ceramic Generally speaking, during the Classic Maya period, spindle whorls were typically made of stone, although other materials were sometimes also used (Chase et al. 2008, 128). Ceramic spindle whorls seem to have become ubiquitous only during the Terminal Classic (after 800 A.D.), possibly indicating a change in textile production (Chase et al. 2008, 128). In Uxul, however, stone spindle whorls seem to have been relatively rare, with only five out of 18 made of ground stone.

The measurements of the different types of malacates reflect what type of thread would have been made with them. Type A and B, being light and small, would have produced very fine thread, with type B having a somewhat tighter twist and less fiber than type A (since type B has a larger height to diameter ratio and would therefore have rotated faster). Types D and E, with their large diameter and slow rotation, would both have produced a thread with a loose twist and many fibers. The quality of type E, however, would have been coarser than that of type D because of the difference in weight and perforation diameter (they may thus have been used for different types of fibers). Type C would have produced a coarse but solid thread with a relatively tight twist, as it was heavy but would have spun quickly because of its small diameter. Furthermore, it is possible that the large flatter and wider whorls, such as type D, were used for supported spinning, rather than for free spinning techniques.

Not all of the spindle whorls could be clearly dated based on the ceramic assemblages of their context. However, of the thirteen malacates that could be dated with some confidence to a broad time period, only two were from the Terminal Classic period, while the remaining eleven were found in Late Classic contexts. All of the stone malacates were dated to the Late Classic, and both of the more recent artifacts were made of ceramic, but the expected shift from stone to ceramic spindle whorls during the Terminal Classic can’t be seen here. It is possible that there was more of a reliance on stone during the Late Classic than afterward (five out of eleven malacates dated to this period were made of stone, after all), but ceramic whorls were certainly not rare. However, the present sample is small, and it is possible that patterns of use of different materials are obscured by sampling biases.

Type A identified here is closest to category E 1-3 identified by McCafferty and McCafferty (2000) at Cholula, although it is not identical. Type B does not correspond to any of the Cholula categories, as none of the latter has a similarly high height to diameter ratio. Our type C is most closely related to the Cholula category C, though its diameter is on the larger side. Type D falls within the D3 category as established in Cholula. Type E does not correspond to any of the Cholula categories as the only ones with a similar diameter tend to have a lower weight, meaning that the Uxul ones are relatively thick.

It should be noted that the classification outlined above makes no distinction between stone and ceramic whorls. Indeed, no clear separation in weight, size, or shape can be detected based on the material of the malacates. However, it is to be noted that all five of the stone artifacts belonged to either of the smaller type A (four) or B (one) whorls, and tended to be average within both those categories. Their perforation sizes also did not differ from ceramic artifacts. The difference in material thus does not seem to have been related to the type of thread that was spun. Instead, it may have been related more to factors such as the use-life of the artifact, its price, or personal preferences.

Smaller, lighter whorls (up to 10 grams with diameters under 3.5 cm) are often assumed to have been used for the spinning of more delicate cotton fibers, while heavier ones are usually thought to have been used to spin maguey fibers (Beaudry-Corbett and McCafferty 2002, 61; Chase et al. 2008, 129). However, it has been demonstrated that whorls do not always conform well with this simple typology, and instead Mesoamerican spinners probably spun many different things and used drop, thigh, and support spinning techniques using a wide range of shapes and sizes of whorls for various materials (Chase et al. 2008, 129). A wide range of whorls could also be used to spin the same material, with differences in weight and shape depending on the intended quality of the final product (Chase et al. 2008, 129; McCafferty and McCafferty 2000, 46). The size and weight of spindle whorls may tell us more about how the spinning was done than what exactly was being

6.5.1.3. Find contexts Malacates were found in ten archaeological groups in Uxul (see Figure 6.18). Only two of these locations were non-domestic, with one malacate each found in the ceremonial centers C and D. The household groups where malacates were found are groups K, Kulte’, M, Ma’ax, O, Q, Wech, and Ya’ab. For almost all of these households, only one spindle whorl was found, except for the palace complex K (where six were found), Ma’ax (where three were found), and Q (where two were found). The overrepresentation of spindle whorls in palace complex K is perhaps unsurprising, since this is the group where by 264

Household Economy

Figure 6.18. Types of malacates and the architectural groups where they were found.

and would have been used for weaving, sewing, and embroidery. They are often found in co-occurrence with spindle whorls in the archaeological context (Chase et al. 2008, 128).

far the most extensive excavations have taken place during the Uxul project. However, it is notable that three malacates were found in group Ma’ax, where extensive excavation took place during only one field season. It should also be noted that none of these three belonged to the most common type of malacates, type A. Instead, one type B, one type C, and one type E malacate were found here. It is possible that this overrepresentation of malacates in general, and of less common types in particular, may point to a degree of specialization in the manufacture of textile in this household group. However, the low number of these artifacts makes this difficult to confirm.

In Uxul five bone needles and/or awls were found (only three were intact enough to identify them definitively as an awl in two cases, and as a needle with an eye in the other). One of the awls was decorated with a carved snake or alligator head and a pseudo glyph on the side of the base (a. in Figure 6.19). All bone needles and awls can be seen in Figure 6.19. Two of these bone implements were found in the palace complex K, the other three in household group Q. The overrepresentation of these implements in K is to be expected, given the extensive excavations carried out there, but the presence of three of them in group Q is remarkable. However, it should be noted that the excavations in group Q focused much less on the domestic context of the household, and all three of the needles were found in connection with the ceremonial context of the artificial cave found close to the household. As such, this is not a typical domestic context, and should not be directly compared to the absence of such implements in any of the other households. It is not clear in this case if the absence of sewing implements is due to an actual absence, sampling error, or the use of different, perishable materials such as wood.

The stone malacates do not seem to have been distributed substantially differently from the ceramic ones, and one was found in each of the household groups K, M, O, Q, and Ya’ab. There does not seem to be any direct relation between malacate material and household wealth or status, as the stone ones were not found in the very wealthy households (such as K, M, and Kulte’) more than in poorer ones. However, the numbers seen here are too low to derive statistical patterns with any confidence. It should also be noted that two malacates were never found in the same excavation context (Lote). 6.5.2. Additional textile production implements

Co-occurrence of these objects with malacates is difficult to confirm, given their low number and their occurrence in mostly mixed contexts. However, one of the needles was found in Lote 2046, where also one of the malacates was found in palace complex K. This context corresponds to construction fill, however, meaning that it is a context

6.5.2.1. Needles and awls Apart from spindle whorls, the clearest indicators for textile production are needles and awls. Carved bone needles and awls are generally associated with textile production, 265

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 6.19. Sample of bone needles and awls found in Uxul (a. and b. are awls and c. is a needle found in Group Q, d. and e. are needles or awls found in Group K) (photographs taken by author, Uxul Archaeological Project).

where materials from different initial use-contexts are dumped as a permanent refuse deposit.

the disks are only roughly circular, making their use as spindle whorls dubious (Chase et al. 2008, 128). They also tend not to co-occur with other artifacts associated with textile production in contexts other than architectural fill and refuse contexts (Chase et al. 2008, 128). Furthermore, there are many possible other interpretations for perforated discs, including as lids, perforation supports, polishers used in ceramic production, game pieces, administrative counts, etc. (Grove 1987b, 287). More regularly shaped perforated sherds, however, would have been effective as spindle whorls.

6.5.2.2. Perforated discs 6.5.2.2.1. Typology Although perforated sherds ground into discs are often assumed to have served as spindle whorls, there is evidence that refutes this interpretation (Chase et al. 2008, 128). The holes in these sherds are often ill-centered, and 266

Household Economy

Figure 6.20. Sample of perforated discs found in Uxul (photographs taken by author, Uxul Archaeological Project).

In Uxul, 40 such perforated discs were identified (see Figure 6.20 for a small sample of perforated discs found in Uxul). All of these were made out of sherds from vessels, and were shaped into roughly circular discs with a perforation in the middle. Other sherds were also reused and perforated, but their irregular shapes or off-center perforations would have made them useless as spindle whorls, and it is more likely that these would have served as pendants or in a different function. All of the discs are made from plain ceramics, without clear decorations. About 60% of the discs have a very well-made and smooth edge, while 16% have a very rough and irregular edge, with the rest somewhere in between.

between 2.9 and 30.2 g. The diameter of the perforated discs shows a continuous Poisson distribution, with an average of 4.3 cm, and the height of the curve at 3.8 cm (see Figure 6.21). The total weight of the discs, on the other hand, shows a triple distribution (see Figure 6.22), with ten of them weighing between 2.9 and 8.4 g (with the height of this distribution curve at 4.9g), 14 weighing between 10.8 and 22.6 g (with the height of this distribution curve at 13 g), and one outlier weighing 30.2 g. Their central perforations, which could be measured in all but ten of the cases, measured between 0.2 and 0.9 cm at their narrowest (the point which would have determined the diameter of the spindle). It shows a continuous Poisson distribution curve, with an average of 0.42 cm, and the height of the distribution curve as 0.6 cm.

Because almost all of these objects were found in mixed and/or refuse contexts, it is not possible to definitively determine whether these discs actually co-occurred with the malacates. One of the malacates was found in the same Lote 1029 as two of the perforated discs, in palace group K, and one malacate was found in the same Lote 2046 as two perforated sherds and a bone needle or awl in palace group K. However, both of these contexts correspond to construction fill, meaning that they occur in a long-term refuse depository where objects from many different initial contexts were mixed together. This means that none of the perforated discs can be directly linked to any of the malacates.

Thus, based on the information here, three broad types of perforated discs can be determined (see Table 6.46). Type A consists of 10 reused sherds, is relatively light, and tends to have a smaller diameter than the other types, although their ranges are not exclusive. Type B counts 14 artifacts and is heavier, with perforated discs weighing between 10.8 and 22.6 g, and tends to be slightly larger than type A, although not exclusively. The diameter of its perforation also tends to be on the large side, although there is again significant overlap with the perforations of type A. Type C consists of only one sherd, and is the heaviest category with the largest diameter, but with an average perforation size.

While some of the perforated discs were too fragmentary to estimate their original weight and size, it was possible to determine the diameter for all but five of them, and their total weight for all but 14. This allows for a comparison of these possible spindle whorls with artifacts that were definitively identified as spindle whorls. These reused sherds had diameters ranging from 2 to 8 cm, and weighed

The weight, diameter, and perforation size of the perforated discs considered here are similar to those of the malacates, meaning that they could have been used in the same way. Such perforated discs, with an obviously low height to diameter ratio, as they were formed from flat sherds, would 267

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 6.21. Distribution of perforated disc diameters (in cm).

Figure 6.22. Distribution of perforated disc weights (in g).

268

Household Economy Table 6.46. Types of perforated discs found at Uxul Diameter (cm)

Perforation diameter (cm)

Weight (g)

Number of perforated discs

A

2 – 4.2

0.2 – 0.7

2.9 – 8.4

10

B

3.3 – 5.1

0.4 – 0.9

10.8 – 22.6

14

C

5.4

0.6

30.2

1

2.6 – 8

0.3 – 0.8

>2.6 – >39.7

15

2–8

0.2 – 0.9

>2.6 – >39.7

40

Type

Unknown Total

significantly larger and heavier than any of the definitive malacates, are unlikely to have been used in the same way. So, while some of the perforated discs may have been used as spindle whorls, it is likely that not all of them were.

have had a relatively slow spin, resulting in a thread with a loose twist and many fibers. Type A perforated discs would have produced the finest and tightest thread, because of its small diameter and low weight, while the thread produced with type B discs would have been both coarser, because of its larger weight and diameter, and thicker, because of the loose twist and the relatively large perforations. Type C discs would have produced a very coarse thread.

6.5.2.2.2. Distribution of perforated discs Figure 6.23 shows the architectural groups where the different types of perforated discs were found in Uxul. For three of them, it is unclear where they were found, as their documentation is incomplete. Almost all of the reused perforated sherds were found in domestic contexts, except for two that were found in the drainage canal leading to the western aguada.

However, 15 of the artifacts analyzed here could not be attributed to any of the types, as their diameter and/or total weight could not be determined. It should be noted though, that these include some of the largest perforated discs, with diameters up to 8 cm, and weights of more than 39.7 g (but their fragmentary nature did not allow for an accurate estimate of the original weight). It is therefore likely that had the total dimensions of these objects been known, they would have formed other types. It is also likely that larger discs are more likely to have been broken, and thus excluded from the present typology because of their fragmentary nature. These discs, because they are

For the most part, the numbers of perforated discs in each of the architectural groups correspond directly to the extent of the excavations carried out there: the groups where the most extensive excavations took place (palace complex K and household group M respectively) also had some of the largest numbers of perforated discs. Variations

Figure 6.23. Types of perforated discs and the architectural groups where they were found.

269

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands in the numbers of objects found for the other groups are explained by the low total numbers of perforated ceramic discs, and are probably due to sampling error in the first place, rather than to differences in household activities. However, household group Ya’ab is an exception to this pattern, as this is where the largest number of perforated discs anywhere in Uxul was found (nine in total). It is statistically unlikely that this is due to sampling error, and this overrepresentation is likely to be the result of specific household activities carried on in this household group.

6.5.2.3. Partially perforated discs Partially perforated ceramic discs made from reused sherds, like perforated discs, occur throughout Mesoamerica. Their function as well is unclear, and they could have been used in a variety of ways. One possibility is that they could have been used in thread production as supports for the spindle during supported spinning, where the partial perforation would have aided to keep the spindle in place (Beaudry-Corbett and McCafferty 2002, 54; Chase et al. 2008, 128; McCafferty and McCafferty 2000, 42).

There are no clear patterns in the distribution of different types of perforated discs, as they seem to have been relatively evenly distributed. It is to be noted, however, that the only type C perforated disc identified at Uxul was found in household group Ma’ax, the same household that had an atypical assemblage of malacate types, specifically focusing on heavier ones. It is possible, therefore, that this is evidence that this household group focused on the production of relatively coarse thread, using heavy spindle whorls. The artifact numbers are, however, too low to confirm this with any level of certainty.

In Uxul, 11 such reused partially perforated sherds were found. All except one were found in domestic contexts (two in palace complex K, one in group F, one in group M, one in group Ma’ax, one in group Q, and two in group Ya’ab), while the last one was found in the “Acropolis” group E. They were all roughly circular (some more regular than others), had a diameter between 2.8 and 9.1 cm, and had a centered partial perforation. There is not enough data in this case to confirm any connection between these partially perforated discs and textile production. In Uxul these artifacts could have been used for such an activity, but there are many more possible functions for these objects that cannot be ruled out.

6.5.2.2.3. Were perforated discs spindle whorls? There is not enough evidence in the case of Uxul to conclude with confidence that the perforated discs were, or were not, used as spindle whorls. The overlap in size and weight with confirmed malacates, as well as their presence in primarily domestic contexts, mean that they may well have been used as spindle whorls, even though this cannot be confirmed. However, the presence of much larger perforated discs, which could not be fitted into the typology developed here because of their fragmentary nature, makes it unlikely that all of them were used as spindle whorls: some of these larger ones would have been significantly larger and heavier than any of the malacates found, making it unlikely that they would have been used for the same activity. Furthermore, the fact that group Ya’ab showed an overrepresentation of perforated discs, but not of malacates may indicate that these artifacts were not involved in the same activity, as intensive textile production here would have been expected to produce an overrepresentation of both types of artifacts. However, it is also possible that this is due to either a difference in the quality or type of thread produced here (as perforated discs would have produced less fine threads than regular malacates). It may also be due to individual preferences of the inhabitants for one type of spindle whorl (discs) over the other, or to a difference in wealth, as perforated discs would have been less costly to make from reused sherds than to make malacates from scratch (either ceramic or stone), and Ya’ab is a relatively poor household group.

6.5.3. Discussion of the organization of textile production in Uxul Archaeological evidence for textile production is not very common at Maya sites, and good contextual associations are rare (Chase et al. 2008, 128). Nowhere in the Maya Lowlands does extremely plentiful evidence for ancient textile production exist, and the evidence that we do have is likely skewed, as any wood artifacts would have disappeared (Chase et al. 2008, 128). Many of the tools used in Classic Maya textile production were probably made from perishable materials such as wood or unbaked clay (Hendon 2006, 357; McCafferty and McCafferty 2000, 42), and the tools made from more permanent materials may have been used only by higher-status individuals (Chase et al. 2008, 128). Uxul very much conforms to this picture, and the low numbers of artifacts directly related to textile production make the examination of any patterns difficult. Furthermore, the presence of artifacts that may have been used in textile production but cannot be linked definitively to the activity, as well as the absence of any organic production-related implements make the analysis of textile production as a craft even more challenging. However, it can tentatively be concluded that in Uxul, textile production took place primarily in domestic contexts. The only possible patterns of textile productionrelated specialization are seen in the household group of Ya’ab, where an overrepresentation of perforated discs that may have been used as spindle whorls may indicate a more intensive or specific type of production, and the

In conclusion, some of the perforated discs found at Uxul may well have been used as spindle whorls. It is impossible, however, to definitively confirm their use as spindle whorls, and it is unlikely that all of them were; at least some would have been used for other functions.

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Household Economy household group of Ma’ax, where the atypical assemblage of spindle whorl types may indicate a specialization in a specific type of thread.

A typology describing different modes of ritual action has been proposed by Bell (1997, 185–91) in order to describe the nature and goal of different types of ritual performances, all of which may be included in a single religious or spiritual system but do not have to play roles of equal importance within it:

Furthermore, contrary to what was seen in a number of other Classic Maya centers (see Hendon 2006) there are no obvious differences between wealthy and poor households in their involvement with textile production, nor in the composition of their spindle whorl assemblages. It seems therefore that people, primarily women, throughout Uxul, both rich and poor, were involved to some degree in the production of thread and textiles. Any possible differences in the type and quality of these textiles are, however, obscured in the archaeological record. Still, it should be noted that textiles played an important social and economic role in ancient Maya society. They served not only as identity markers but also as an economic exchange medium, being used for economic transactions such as taxation and possibly even as currency (Chase et al. 2008, 130). Since women seem to have performed the bulk of textile production in ancient Maya societies, this means that women along the socio-economic spectrum played a major role both in the social signaling channeled through textiles, and in formalized economic processes. The fact that textile production seems to have been performed by both wealthy and poor women means that women all along the socio-economic spectrum played a crucial role in maintaining economic processes at Uxul. Women controlling such a vital aspect of the local economy shows that they were crucial economic actors. Unless they were under the direct control of socio-economic superiors or men, an assumption for which there is no clear evidence and which seems unlikely, this means that women were important participants in the economy and had significant economic agency.

• Appeal and appeasement: rituals designed to placate gods, spirits, and ancestors, securing their help and avoiding their anger • Cosmological ordering: rituals (often used by rulers and in public ritual to legitimize power and position) emphasizing the cosmological equilibrium, calendrical cycles, astronomical events, and hierarchical ordering • Ethical-moral: ritual practices intended to admonish individuals to the right action and intentions, focusing on individual sin and virtue • Privatized spirituality: rites focusing on personal spirituality, transformation, realization, and commitment Ceremonial contexts can be dedicated to such religious and ritual actions, although there need not always be a clear separation between ceremonial and non-ceremonial space. The distinction between religious and secular spheres is not always clear-cut, and they often overlap and coexist within a single time and space. Especially in household contexts, where ritual and utilitarian actions and implements coexist, a single action may have elements of both, and a separation between the two is not fixed or rigid. In archaeology, ritual action can be detected through the presence of specific ritual implements, specific depositional processes, the organization of space, the presence of structures or features with a ceremonial character (such as temples and altars), etc. However, ritual is often illunderstood, and difficult to study archaeologically. Important dimensions of ritual activities often include the use of perishable materials, the passing of time, specific movements of bodies, use of the voice, ingestion of food and drink, and other symbolically charged actions that don’t leave archaeological traces. The exact performance of a ceremonial activity, its goals and implications, while they may be guessed at on the basis of the incomplete archaeological record, typically remain ill-understood and mysterious. However, depending on the nature of the rituals, the archaeological remains, and our understanding of ancient societal processes, the archaeological record does generally enable us to detect the presence of ceremonial activities and spheres, and allows us to arrive at general interpretations of their nature.

6.6. Ceremonial services in household contexts: consumption, production, and services Ritual activity can be defined (following Rappaport 1999) as a set of actions performed for their symbolic value. Such activities pertain to the domains of religion broadly defined, including the sacred, numinous, occult, and divine (Rappaport 1999, 23). The terms “ritual” and “ceremonial”, while they may be understood to have somewhat different meanings depending on who uses them, are used interchangeably here. Ritual activity is a powerful medium by which groups define themselves and their traditions (Bell 1997, 197; Plunket 2002, 4). It can’t always be easily separated from other types of activities, however, making it difficult to identify in the archaeological record (Plunket 2002, 4). Societies typically have more than one ritual system, with people participating in various systems without worrying about how they are articulated (Bell 1997, 174). Domestic ritual, court ritual, and public state and/or popular ritual are overlapping systems that would have interacted, and are often impossible to separate (Plunket 2002, 4).

Household-based ceremonies are ubiquitous in human society, and their traces have been found throughout the Maya area. Their distribution in the ancient Maya archaeological record is not always uniform, however, and differences are sometimes found between wealthy elites and commoners or between urban and rural contexts in the types and frequency of ceremonies that were performed

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Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands within the household. In Copan, for example, it was found that while urban households typically contained artifacts related to religious activities, such objects were rare in rural ones (Webster and Gonlin 1988, 186). While such differences don’t necessarily indicate an absence of ceremonial activities in contexts where corresponding artifacts are not found (people may have used different types of objects, perishable versions, or performed different types of rituals), it does show that there was variability in the way ceremonies were performed in Maya society that can be detected archaeologically.

for extra-household or community-based ceremonies (Brown, Simmons, and Sheets 2002). In one case, artifacts found within a humble household context appear to have been related to ceremonies performed at nearby public ceremonial structures, indicating that the members of this household specialized in providing public ceremonial services, and kept the tools of their trade within the household (Brown, Simmons, and Sheets 2002, 85–88). In another case, members of Ceren households seem to have used a specific structure for divinations and other ritual consultations (Brown, Simmons, and Sheets 2002, 88– 90), suggesting the existence of ceremonial performances as economic services offered directly to individuals in a semi-private setting. While in this case ceremonial services may not have been offered within residential contexts, it is clear that specialized individuals offered specific ceremonial services in both private and community-wide contexts to members of households other than their own, and that evidence for such specialization can be found archaeologically in residential contexts.

Ceremonial activities can be both personal and household activities, as well as services that are provided to a community by a specialist. In the latter case, ceremonial services can be considered as productive activities that are economically similar to craft production in that time, effort, and expertise are used by specialists to provide others with a service, rather than goods. It is clear that such services were an important part of city life throughout Mesoamerican cultural history, with impressive monuments and architecture that defined ceremonial stages for rulers and priests, contributing to their power and status (Plunket 2002, 2). While household rituals performed by individuals in private contexts never disappeared, the public rituals in urban ceremonial centers allowed ruling classes to establish monopolies over special connections to important supernaturals that commoners did not have direct access to (Plunket 2002, 2). The performance of specific ceremonies (be it in semiprivate household settings, public ceremonial centers, in closed-off ceremonial compounds where there were no outside observers but the occurrence of hidden ceremonial practices was known, or during public festivals and feasts) became a specialized activity that most people did not have the ability to perform privately, and was instead performed as a service by specialists. Such services, while they are a complex phenomenon contributing to the building and maintaining of social structures on many different levels, can be studied as economic transactions, where one party provides a specialized service needed by another party in exchange for things like goods and services, taxes, socioeconomic power and control, the ability to levy labor for public works, etc. Such transactions may in some cases correspond to simple, direct, commercial exchanges, but may also be part of more complex, indirect reciprocal structures maintaining social structures and power distributions.

In order to study the existence of ceremonial services as a semi-private service provided within domestic contexts, I will here examine the evidence for ceremonial activities available in Uxul’s residential groups, not including the public ceremonies that would have taken place in the large public ceremonial centers of Uxul, as these did not fall into the category of household production, and are dealt with elsewhere (see 5.5.2 Mobility and religion: access to religious services). Here, I will focus instead on the evidence for ceremonial practices found within household contexts, in order to determine whether there is evidence for a focus of some households on the production of either extra-household, community-based ceremonies, or for ceremonies performed within the household as a semiprivate setting for people from outside the household. The evidence for household-based ceremonial activities in Uxul, whether they were provided to others as services or performed as private household activities, are ceremonial structures, ceramic figurines, musical instruments, and incense burners. These types of objects are associated with ceremonial performances throughout ancient Mesoamerica, and while their interpretation is not always straightforward, they are generally regarded as signs of ceremonial practices (Flannery 1976a; Gillespie 1987; Hendon 1991, 900–904; Houston and Inomata 2009, 206; Plunket 2002; Webster and Gonlin 1988, 186). While other artifacts are typically associated with ritual functions, such as ceramic candeleros, vessels used for ceremonial consumption of food and drink, and blood-letters (made from obsidian, sting-ray spines, maguey spines, etc.) (Plunket 2002), these were either not found in Uxul or not identified specifically as having had ceremonial functions, so that such artifact categories are left out of the present study.

Although the best-studied type of ceremonies as a service performed by specialized individuals are the public ceremonies held by rulers in the context of centralized ceremonial compounds, intended to provide protection and prosperity for the community and legitimation of power for the rulers, there is evidence for smaller-scale ceremonial services performed by non-ruler specialists, at the household or community level. At the particularly well-preserved site of Ceren, El Salvador, for example, while artifacts related to household-based rituals were relatively rare, evidence was found for the production

The distribution of implements and specific structures used in ceremonial activities sheds light on who in Uxul performed them and on what scale. In particular, if there 272

Household Economy was a practice in Uxul of ceremonial activities being performed as a service in a semi-private capacity within household contexts, it would be expected that those performing those services would own larger concentrations of ceremonial implements, as these can be considered to have been the tools of their trade. If specific households specialized in providing ceremonial services locally in their own household for people living near them, this is expected to be reflected in the architecture and spatial layout of their household. Such households would also be expected to have been socially well integrated into their surrounding neighborhood, as they would have provided a crucial local service, making them an important focal point for the community (this is explored more in detail in 5.4 Mobility and social integration). If, on the other hand, ceremonial practices were not provided as an external service, but people typically performed their own private ceremonies in the context of the private sphere of their household, a much more uniform distribution of objects and architecture related to these ceremonies would be expected. While the existence of private ceremonies and ceremonies provided as a service are not mutually exclusive, the existence of the latter is expected to have resulted in artifact and architectural distributions that are visible archaeologically.

individual taking on new meanings through ceremony during burial or remembrance practices). While the above issues make any differences between individual households in their archaeological assemblage of ceremonial objects difficult to interpret, it should still be possible, however, to detect any significant differences in the organization of ceremonial practices between groups of households. Systematic differences between members of different neighborhoods or socio-economic strata, for example, can still be identified. If, for example, the secondary elite were primarily responsible for providing ceremonies as services to others, a systematic difference between wealthy and poor households would be expected. While an absence of such a systematic difference does not mean that ceremonial practices were not offered as services at all, it would indicate that such services were not necessarily related to the status or wealth of the people or households providing them. 6.6.1. Household ceremonial activities in Uxul 6.6.1.1. Household ceremonial structures In the case of Uxul, it is not directly clear who was responsible for providing public ceremonial services in the context of public ceremonial centers. While such public services in Maya city-states are typically the realm of elite individuals, no clear association was found between elite households and communal ceremonial spaces, except for the highest ruling elite in palace complex group K (see 5.5.2 Mobility and religion: access to religious services). This does not necessarily mean, however, that other elite individuals were not involved in such activities at all. Firstly, it is possible that some of them played roles in public ceremonies held in communal ceremonial spaces, even though they were not systematically physically associated with these spaces. It is also possible, however, that some elite households provided ceremonial services on a smaller scale, and based within the household rather than in public spaces. Indeed, the distinction between private and public spaces, or domestic and ceremonial spaces is not always clear in ancient Maya societies. Many households include ceremonial structures, and it is unclear whether these should be considered as private ceremonial spaces or whether they indicate a ceremonial service that was provided within the context of the household for people from outside.

An important caveat to the study of the organization of ceremonies in domestic contexts is that differences may have existed between households in the types of ceremonies they performed, the frequency with which they performed them, and the exact implements they used. Such differences can result in unequal distributions of ceremonial implements in the archaeological record, without necessarily denoting differences in the importance of ceremonies between households. Additionally, many of the implements that may have been used for ceremonies were probably perishable, ranging from food, drinks, and incense to perishable versions of otherwise non-perishable objects such as figurines and musical instruments, and would not show up in the archaeological record. Another important factor to keep in mind when studying archaeological remains that may have been related to ceremonial practices is that many such objects don’t necessarily have exclusively ceremonial functions. For example, figurines may be used as toys or decorations, musical instruments may be used for entertainment, and incense burners may be used simply for the smell of incense. Such objects may have had multiple functions, with different ones being used in different settings, or the same one being used in multiple ways. Furthermore, the distinction between what is ceremonial and what is not isn’t always clear and can become confused. Religious songs or melodies may be played as entertainment, the burning of incense can be used at the same time for its smell and spiritual goals, play can be incorporated in ceremonial practices. Additionally, objects that are not specific to ceremonial practices are often incorporated in them, either in practical ways (e.g. the plates used for serving food or drink during a ceremony) or by changing their meanings (e.g. personal belongings of a deceased

Household group Ak’, the second largest residential group in Uxul after the palace complex, for example, included a pyramid-like structure that made up a large portion of its total construction volume. It is possible that this structure and the patio in front of it were used as ceremonial spaces for local semi-public ceremonial services not intended for the entire Uxul population, but rather a smaller community such as the neighborhood. This assumption is supported by the spatial layout of the Ak’ residential group, which had a smaller residential patio that was somewhat closed off from the larger patio where the large ceremonial structure 273

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands stood. In this way, a residential area could be maintained relatively private and somewhat closed off from a semipublic area where ceremonial services could be performed. However, the fact that group Ak’ was not clearly better socially integrated into the neighborhood (see 5.4.2 Social integration and neighborhoods) is not indicative of its role as a provider of an essential local service for the neighborhood, and it is also possible that the structure was intended as a private ceremonial space for the members of the household, while also serving as an outward visual marker of the household’s wealth and connection to the spiritual realms and/or rulers of Uxul.

massive, and were sometimes made out of perishable materials. These could correspond to small buildings or even simple stone or perishable altars that are much less easily recognizable archaeologically, especially during survey, than the massive stone structures in elite households. These would have fulfilled a similar role to the structures found in wealthy households, meaning that the distinction between them is one of size and form rather than function. In this case, the presence of large ceremonial structures in wealthy households may not have been intended for semi-public use, but are simply large and impressive versions of private ceremonial structures that were ubiquitous in ancient Maya households. The fact that wealthy households were on average not better socially integrated than poorer ones (see 5.4 Mobility and social integration) is not consistent with an important public role of these households, and does not support the notion that the elite in Uxul typically performed an essential local service. In this case, such structures in wealthy households would have been visual markers of their wealth and connection to the spiritual realm, rather than proof of semi-public ceremonial services performed there.

Other relatively wealthy households had similar, though less imposing, ceremonial structures, typically in the form of an elevated platform with a superstructure on the eastern side of the patio. Such structures have been identified for example for groups G (Lackner, Navarro Barranchina, and Delvendahl 2015), Keej’ (Volta 2012), Kulte’ (Matsumoto 2015), M (Paap, Benavides Castillo, and Grube 2010, 66–68), Ma’ax (Barnard and Delvendahl 2015), and Wob (Lyons and Stelson 2013). These were all, except for the one in group Keej’ where it was located on the northern side of the main patio and the one in group M where it was located in the northeastern corner of the patio, situated on the eastern side of the patio, and correspond to eastern shrine type structures. The occurrence of eastern shrines in residential contexts has been well documented in Maya societies (A. Chase and D. Chase 2014, 9), and it is clear that a number of high-status wealthy households in Uxul included large versions of such structures. It is possible, then, that these were used as a space for local semi-public ceremonial services, and that elite households typically provided such services. However, since such structures are not always identifiable from survey registration alone without confirmation through excavation, no systematic record is available identifying all ceremonial structures in residential contexts that would allow for the study of the distribution of such structures.

6.6.1.2. Figurines Ceramic figurines are a widespread occurrence throughout ancient Mesoamerica (Lesure 2011, 112–15). They are frequently found not only in ritual settings such as burials, ceremonial structures, and cache deposits, but also in residential contexts (Lesure 2011, 112–15). In the Maya area, they were sometimes mass-produced using molds, or hand molded into individual representations (Marcus 2019, 5). While the faces of Mesoamerican figurines often don’t show individual traits, suggesting that most are not made to represent specific individuals, they are often differentiated in their personal attributes, including sex, headdresses, skull deformations, and clothing, indicating social identities (Houston, Stuart, and Taube 2006, 68–72; Marcus 1998b, 15–30, 2019). There are many possible interpretations for the meaning of figurines in ancient Maya society, and the ways they were used, including for fertility rituals (Joyce 2000, 4), ancestor veneration or communication (Flannery and Marcus 2005, 88–93; Marcus 1998b, 15–30), communication with spirits (Houston and Inomata 2009, 206), curing rituals (Plunket 2002, 6), toys, portraits, etc. It should be noted that not all figurines may have been used in the same way and that they may have had different meanings for different individuals or in different contexts (Houston and Inomata 2009, 206). Furthermore, it is known that figurines are sometimes made of perishable materials such as paper, maize dough, wood, and copal, which are not preserved in the archaeological record (Marcus 2019, 31), making a full understanding of the meanings and functions of ancient Maya figurines more complicated. Still, these artifacts are widely understood to have been used in ceremonial practices throughout ancient Mesoamerica (even if not exclusively), and are here studied in that capacity.

It should be noted that the palace complex group K, despite being the wealthiest and largest of all residential groups in Uxul, had no such pyramidal structure within its domestic area. Instead, it was closely connected, through physical proximity or through causeways to all of the central ceremonial centers of Uxul, and it is likely that the rulers living in the palace played an important role in public ceremonies held there. Thus, the palace may not have needed a large private ceremonial structure as its inhabitants would have performed public ceremonies in public settings, and would not have needed to perform them as a semi-public service within the confines of their domestic area. Secondary elites in Uxul, however, may have provided ceremonial services on a small scale, in the semi-private sphere of their own household, supplementing larger public ceremonies that were centrally organized. However, while this could not be verified in the case of Uxul, it is known that many low-status Maya households included versions of eastern shrines that were much less 274

Household Economy While this does not necessarily mean that figurines were not used in symbolic ways in larger-scale ceremonies, they would have played a much less important role in public ceremonies from a performance point of view. While the sensory effects of musical instruments and incense burners can be translated both in private small-scale ceremonies and in large-scale public ones, figurines are likely to have played a much more important role in private household ceremonies. It is perhaps not surprising, then, that almost all were found within domestic contexts. Only two anthropomorphic figurines were found in non-domestic ceremonial contexts, one in ceremonial center group A, and one in ceremonial center group D. Additionally, three anthropomorphic and six zoomorphic figurines (including three frogs and two birds) were found within the layers making up the base of the western aguada. The overrepresentation of zoomorphic figurines, and frogshaped ones in particular, in the aguada is remarkable and may be symbolic in nature. The remaining 224 figurines were found in residential contexts, confirming the primarily domestic nature of ceremonies performed with figurines.

In total, 235 ceramic figurines were found in Uxul (see Figure 6.24 for a sample of the figurines). The vast majority of these, 187, are anthropomorphic figurines, but 47 zoomorphic figurines (including 16 birds, seven dogs, four felines, six frogs, a turtle, and a reptile) and one fantastic figurine were also identified. All figurines were broken and fragmentary, but whether this is because of (post-)depositional processes or as part of intentional ceremonial practices is unclear. It is beyond the scope of the present research to study the nature and individual attributes of the figurines, of which there was a wide range in size, preservation, elaboration, production techniques, styles, clothing and headdresses, etc. Instead, I will focus here on their distribution across the site. Contrary to musical instruments and incense burners, the nature of figurines means that any type of activity performed with it is of a relatively private nature. Indeed, these are relatively small objects, that can be observed when performing individual ceremonies or in small groups of people (e.g. the members of a household).

Figure 6.24. Sample of anthropomorphic figurines (a.-f.) and zoomorphic ones (g. represents a possible dog, h. an alligator or pig, i. a bird, and j. a feline) found in Uxul (a., d., g., and j. were found in group K, c. and i. in group G, e. in group K’áak’, f. in group Q, and h. in group H) (photographs taken by author, Uxul Archaeological Project).

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Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Figurines were found in household groups along the socio-economic spectrum, although not uniformly. In the wealth-category I palace complex group K, 77 (69 anthropomorphic and 8 zoomorphic including three birds, two dogs, and a feline) were found, 81 figurines (69 anthropomorphic, one fantastic, and 12 zoomorphic including three dogs, two felines, a bird, and a frog) were found in nine wealthy category II households, and 28 figurines (21 anthropomorphic and seven zoomorphic including four birds and a feline) were found in eight category III households. Finally, 38 figurines (24 anthropomorphic and 14 zoomorphic including six birds, two dogs, two frogs, a reptile, and a turtle) were found in nine relatively poor category IV households.

not related to household wealth. Instead, differences in the prevalence of figurines are better explained by differences between individual households, related to other factors such as the nature of the domestic ceremonial practices it performed, materials they used, or frequency and/or scale of the ceremonies they performed. Apart from the differences in the prevalence of figurines, there are also significant differences between the households in the nature of the figurines they used (see Table 6.47). For all of the extensively excavated households where figurines were found, anthropomorphic ones were more abundant than zoomorphic ones. However, there is a clear overrepresentation of zoomorphic figurines in groups Ya’ab, with 39.4% of the figurines found here being zoomorphic in nature. This overrepresentation is particularly significant given that zoomorphic figurines accounted for only 17.9% of figurines found in the other households combined. Another household group that shows an overrepresentation of zoomorphic figurines is group G, with three of them representing 42.9% of its figurines.

It is clear that more figurines were found in the wealthiest households, but it is likely that this distribution is at least in part due to an excavation bias that focused on large households. In order to gain a more representative perspective on the relative frequency of figurines in households along the socio-economic spectrum, the extensively excavated households of Uxul need to be considered. Overall within the extensively excavated households, 0.5 figurines (including anthropomorphic, fantastic, and zoomorphic ones) were found for every 1000 ceramic sherds (see Table 6.47). Groups K and K’áak’ show an overrepresentation of figurines, with 0.8 and 1.1 per 1000 sherds respectively. Groups Ak’, Baak, and Ma’ax on the other hand had relatively few figurines, each less than 0.3 for every 1000 sherds. In groups Pu’uk and Wob, no figurines at all were found.

Overall, there is a statistically significant strong correlation between household rank and the relative amount of zoomorphic figurines as compared to anthropomorphic ones (r = .72, P = .04 < .05), meaning that poorer households tended to own larger proportions of zoomorphic figurines, while wealthy households were more likely to use anthropomorphic ones preferentially. The exact reason for this systematic difference between wealthy and poor households is unclear, but it is likely to be linked to the nature of domestic ceremonial practices, rather than to their frequency or scale. Indeed, it is likely that zoomorphic and anthropomorphic figurines were used for somewhat different types of practices. This correlation, then, is related to the exact household practices that were performed involving the different types of figurines, with poorer households being more likely to perform ceremonial

While there are significant differences between the extensively excavated households, there is no significant correlation between household rank and the relative quantities of figurines (all types included) as compared to total numbers of ceramic sherds (r = .1, P = .81 > .1). This suggests that the differences between households in their use of figurines for domestic ceremonial practices are

Table 6.47. Distribution of figurines found in the ten extensively excavated households Total figurines

Anthropomorphic

Fantastic

Zoomorphic

Figurine to ceramic ratio

Ak’

6

4 (66.7%)

1 (16.7%)

1 (16.7%)

0.22/1000

Baak

2

2 (100%)

–

–

0.26/1000

G

7

4 (57.1%)

–

3 (42.9%)

0.34/1000

K

77

69 (89.6%)

–

8 (10.4%)

0.76/1000

K’áak’

15

13 (86.7%)

–

2 (13.3%)

1.11/1000

M

49

42 (85.7%)

–

7 (14.3%)

0.38/1000

Ma’ax

3

3 (100%)

–

–

0.15/1000

Pu’uk

–

–

–

–

–

Wob

–

–

–

–

–

Ya’ab

33

20 (60.6%)

–

13 (39.4%)

0.67/1000

Total

192

157 (81.7%)

1 (0.5%)

34 (17.7%)

0.52/1000

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Household Economy practices involving zoomorphic representations. However, the lack of significant correlation between the numbers of anthropomorphic figurines as compared to ceramic sherds and household rank (r = –.12, P = .78 > .1) indicates that even if anthropomorphic figurines had a radically different function from zoomorphic ones, their distribution still indicates that there was no systematic difference in the scale and frequency of domestic ceremonial practices performed using anthropomorphic figurines between wealthy and poor households. Instead, it seems that poorer households were more likely to perform ceremonies using zoomorphic figurines additionally to those using anthropomorphic ones.

one and one representing a feline), as well as three simple whistles, were complete, the rest were fragmentary. Musical instruments would have had the potential to be involved in much larger-scale and more public ceremonies than figurines, as their sound could carry over a certain distance, and the participant or observer of a ceremonial practice would not have needed to be very close to the musician in order for its message to be conveyed. As such, it might be expected that musical instruments would be more prevalent in public ceremonial settings than figurines. Like figurines, however, musical wind instruments were found almost exclusively in domestic contexts, with only two whistles or ocarinas found in nondomestic contexts: one in ceremonial center C, and one in the western aguada. All other wind instruments were found in domestic contexts.

6.6.1.3. Musical instruments While musical instruments may be used to make music in non-ceremonial settings, they are almost universally also used as part of all kinds of different ceremonial practices. They play an important role in creating ambiance and symbolic communication, and assist in singing and dancing. While little is known about the type of music (and the associated iconography of the instruments) produced in different household or public ceremonial contexts, it is clear that whistles, ocarinas, trumpets, and drums played an important role in ceremonial practices throughout ancient Mesoamerica (Plunket 2002, 8).

Like figurines, musical wind instruments were found in household groups belonging to each of the wealth categories identified in Uxul, though in differing quantities. Thirty-one pieces were found in the palace complex group K, corresponding to wealth category I, including two flutes (one bone and one ceramic), 28 whistles or ocarinas (four of which were anthropomorphic and one representing a feline), and a shell trumpet. Thirty whistles and/or ocarinas in total were found in seven wealthy category II households, including one anthropomorphic and five zoomorphic ones (including representations of a bird, a dog, a frog, and a turtle). In seven different category III households, a total of 18 whistles and/or ocarinas were found, including three anthropomorphic and one zoomorphic one. Finally, 25 whistles and/or ocarinas, including three zoomorphic ones, as well as one shell trumpet and one ceramic flute were found spread over seven relatively poor category IV households.

In Uxul, the types of musical instruments that were identified in the archaeological record include ceramic whistles and ocarinas, ceramic and bone flutes, shell trumpets, and ceramic drums. Many of the whistles and ocarinas were made in the shape of anthropomorphic, fantastic, or zoomorphic figures, while many of the drums showed colorful or polychrome decorations. This means that besides the musical aspect of these instruments, visual representation and symbolism were also important factors in their use during ceremonial practices or otherwise.

As was the case for figurines, it is unclear whether the larger numbers of instruments found in wealthy households are the result of excavation bias, and an examination of these objects in the extensively excavated households may present a more representative distribution (see Table 6.48). Overall, for the extensively excavated households, 0.2 musical wind instruments (including flutes, whistles, and ocarinas) were found for every 1000 ceramic sherds. Only in group Pu’uk were no such artifacts found. Household groups K, K’áak’, and Ya’ab show a slight overrepresentation of these instruments, with 0.3, 0.4, and 0.4 per 1000 sherds respectively. It should be noted that both groups K and K’áak’ also showed an overrepresentation of figurines, reinforcing the prevalence of household ceremonial practices in these two groups. Groups Ak’ and Ma’ax, on the other hand, similarly as for figurines, had relatively few musical wind instruments, 0.07 and 0.05 per 1000 sherds respectively.

The difference between whistles and ocarinas is characterized by the presence or absence of finger-holes, with ocarinas having at least one. This means that in many cases when an object was incomplete and no finger-holes were identified, the object was classified as a “whistle or ocarina”. Additionally, it should be noted that because several of the whistles and ocarinas had anthropomorphic or zoomorphic shapes, fragments that did not include the body of the musical instrument may well have been classified as figurine fragments, as there is no way of knowing whether a figurine head, for example, may have been attached to a whistle or ocarina body. Therefore, here, only those objects that were confirmed as musical instruments are considered. In total, 103 whistles and ocarinas (see Figure 6.25 for a sample) were found in Uxul (at least seven of which were anthropomorphic in shape, and 10 zoomorphic including a feline, a dog, a bird, a frog, and a turtle), as well as and three flutes (two ceramic ones and one made from a long mammal bone). Two of the ocarinas (an anthropomorphic

While there are significant differences between the extensively excavated households, there is no significant correlation between household rank and the relative quantities of musical wind instruments (all types included) 277

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 6.25. Sample of whistles (a.), anthropomorphic ocarinas (b.-c.) and zoomorphic ocarinas (d. represents an owl, e. a frog) found in Uxul (a. was found in group Ak’, b. in group Ma’ax, c. in group P, d. in group K’áak’, and e. in group Kopo’) (photographs taken by author, Uxul Archaeological Project).

278

Household Economy Table 6.48. Musical instruments found in the ten extensively excavated households Total

Whistles/ ocarinas

Flutes and trumpets

Drums

Musical instrument to ceramic ratio

Ak’

61

2

–

59

2.26/1000

Baak

4

1

–

3

0.53/1000

G

7

4

–

3

0.34/1000

K

184

28

3

153

1.82/1000

K’áak’

10

6

–

4

0.74/1000

M

22

15

–

7

0.17/1000

Ma’ax

16

1

–

15

0.82/1000

Pu’uk

7

–

–

7

0.44/1000

Wob

2

1

–

1

0.26/1000

Ya’ab

109

22

–

87

2.22/1000

Total

422

80

3

339

1.08/1000

as compared to total numbers of ceramic sherds (r = .49, P = .15 > .1). This suggests that the differences between households in their use of musical wind instruments in domestic ceremonial practices are not related to household wealth. Instead, differences in the prevalence of these instruments are better explained by differences between individual households, related to other factors such as the nature of the domestic ceremonial practices they performed, materials they used, or the frequency and/or scale of the ceremonies they performed.

but instead to the nature, frequency, and/or scale of the ceremonial practices they were used for. Overall, musical instruments, including both wind instruments and drums, represent 1.1 for every 1000 sherds found in the extensively excavated households (see Table 6.48). They are somewhat overrepresented in particular in groups Ak’, K, and Ya’ab, and underrepresented in groups Baak, G, M, Pu’uk, and Wob. It should be noted that both groups Ak’ and K’áak’ each show a clear bias in favor of a specific type of musical instruments, with the former having relatively large numbers of ceramic drums and low numbers of whistles and ocarinas, while the latter had many wind instruments but few drums. This may be the result of either a difference in the type of ceremonies that were performed within these two households, or of personal preferences for the type of music that was played in them. In groups K and Ya’ab, all types of musical instruments were overrepresented.

Another type of musical instrument for which data on their distribution is available is ceramic drums. These correspond to curved hollow cylindrical vessels open on both ends, with at least one of the openings covered with a stretched perishable fabric or leather. Only Late Classic sherds of these artifacts were found in the extensively excavated households (this does not mean that drums did not exist during other time periods, but rather that other, perishable materials are more likely to have been used then). Many of them were decorated, with 26.3% being polychrome. Their distribution in the extensively excavated households (see Table 6.48) is not uniform, but all of these households had at least one sherd of a ceramic drum. Overall, the drum sherds correspond to 0.9 fragments for every 1000 ceramic sherds in general in these households. Drums were overrepresented in household groups Ak’ (unlike figurines and wind instruments), K, and Ya’ab, with 2.2, 1.5, and 1.8 drum sherds per 1000 sherds overall respectively. Households G, K’áak’ (contrary to figurines and wind instruments), M, and Wob, on the other hand, had relatively few drums, with only 0.1, 0.3, 0.05, and 0.1 drum fragments per 1000 sherds respectively. As in the case of wind instruments, the significant differences between the households in their relative numbers of ceramic drums do not correspond to a correlation with household rank (r = .29, P = .42 > .1). As with wind instruments, this indicates that the use of ceramic drums was not related to wealth,

There is no correlation between household rank and the relative numbers of musical instruments present, however (r = .37, P = .30 > .1), indicating that the wealthy were not more likely to use them within the confines of their households than poorer households. Instead, the differences between households in their use of musical instruments during ceremonial practices can be explained by individual differences in the scale, frequency, or nature of the ceremonies performed. Much like for the figurines, the distribution of musical instruments shows no evidence suggesting that elites or secondary elites were more likely to perform semi-public ceremonies within their residence. 6.6.1.4. Incense burners Incense burners are used around the world for the burning of incense during ceremonial practices. This practice has both a visual component in the form of smoke and an 279

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands olfactory component in the smell it produces. Additionally, the burning of incense usually has a symbolic meaning attached to the transformation of a material into volatile smoke and ash through fire. Throughout Mesoamerican religious practices, the burning of incense is routinely used as part of cleansing, ancestor communication, initiation, and termination rituals (Plunket 2002, 6). In Mesoamerican archaeology, incense burners are routinely associated with domestic altars and mortuary contexts, confirming their role in ritual contexts (Plunket 2002, 6). Unlike figurines, but to a lesser extent than musical instruments, the burning of incense can be used effectively in semi-public settings, as it can be observed and smelled from a certain distance. The presence of incense burners in archaeological household contexts is a clear indication of ceremonial practices performed within domestic contexts. I will here examine the presence of incense burners of all types and sizes found within the context of the extensively excavated households. A more detailed examination of the different types and their presence in other contexts is beyond the scope of the present study.

Table 6.49. Incense burners found in the ten extensively excavated households Total incense burners

Incense burner to ceramic ratio

Ak’

2

0.07/1000

Baak

–

–

G

2

0.10/1000

K

59

0.58/1000

K’áak’

2

0.15/1000

M

8

0.06/1000

Ma’ax

13

0.66/1000

Pu’uk

23

1.43/1000

Wob

1

0.13/1000

Ya’ab

–

–

Total

110

0.28/1000

the differences between households in their use of incense burners in domestic ceremonial practices are not related to household wealth. Instead, differences in the prevalence of these artifacts are better explained by differences between individual households, related to other factors such as the nature of the domestic ceremonial practices they performed, the materials they used, or the frequency and/ or scale of ceremonies.

In Uxul incense burners are relatively rare, representing only 0.3 fragments for every 1000 ceramic sherds found in the ten extensively excavated households (see Table 6.49). In the household groups Baak and Ya’ab no such objects were found at all. They were underrepresented as well in household groups Ak’, G, and M, with less than 0.1 fragments of incense burners per 1000 sherds. In household groups K, Ma’ax, and Pu’uk, on the other hand, they were somewhat overrepresented, with 0.6, 0.7, and 1.4 fragments per 1000 sherds respectively.

6.6.2. Discussion of ceremonial practices as specialized household services in Uxul

While there was clear variation in the prevalence of incense burners in the different households, there was no correlation between their relative numbers and household rank (r = –.17, P = .63 > .1). As was the case for the other artifacts related to ceremonial practices, this suggests that

Overall, 703 artifacts related to ceremonial practices were found within the context of the ten extensively excavated households in Uxul, corresponding to 1.8 ceremonial artifacts per 1000 ceramic sherds (see Table 6.50). While it was beyond the scope of the present

Table 6.50. Distribution of artifacts related to ceremonial practices found in the ten extensively excavated households Total

Figurines

Musical instruments

Incense burners

Ceremonial artifact to ceramic ratio

Ak’ *

69

6

61

2

2.56/1000

Baak

6

2

4

–

0.79/1000

G*

16

7

7

2

0.78/1000

K

320

77

184

59

3.17/1000

K’áak’

27

15

10

2

2.01/1000

M*

79

49

22

8

0.61/1000

Ma’ax *

32

3

16

13

1.63/1000

Pu’uk

30

–

7

23

1.87/1000

Wob *

3

–

2

1

0.39/1000

Ya’ab

142

33

109

–

2.89/1000

Total

724

192

422

110

1.85/1000

* Household group including a known large “eastern shrine” type structure

280

Household Economy study to go into the details of the excavation context or a specific dating of the artifacts, this provides a broad overview of the nature, intensity, and scale of ceremonial practices performed within these residential contexts and the differences between them. While there are marked differences between households in the relative amounts (as compared to the number of ceramic sherds registered) of each of the ceremonial artifact types, none showed a systematic statistical correlation with household rank. The only exception was zoomorphic figurines, which were more likely to be found in less wealthy households, but this does not seem to have affected the distribution of anthropomorphic figurines. When looking at the presence of all types of ceremonial artifacts together (including figurines of all types, musical instruments, and incense burners), there is also no correlation with household rank (r = .29, P = .41 > .1), indicating that these objects are not clearly related to wealth. Instead, differences in the distribution of ceremonial artifacts are more probably related to the nature, scale, and frequency of ceremonies that were performed in the individual households, but these were not dependent on wealth.

or feature, but this is not supported by the layout of the architecture in the same way as it was in group Ak’. The architectural layout of the Ya’ab households, however, may provide another clue: since the Ya’ab group consists of several patio groups that are particularly closely related to each other, it is possible that they organized ceremonial practices intended for the inhabitants of each of these patio groups together, meaning that while these ceremonies may have been relatively private in nature, they were intended for a larger group than was the case in most single household groups, reinforcing the role of musical instruments within such relatively large-scale ceremonies. On the other hand, groups Baak, G, M, and Wob each showed an underrepresentation of artifacts related to ceremonial performance (each under 0.8 per 1000 sherds), indicating that ceremonies in these groups were either performed less frequently or with different materials and artifacts. It should be noted that the household groups within the present sample that showed an overrepresentation of ceremonial artifacts are not necessarily the same ones as those where a large ceremonial structure was included in the household. Indeed, while group Ak’ included both a large ceremonial structure and an overrepresentation of ceremonial artifacts, groups G and Wob both included such a structure, but relatively low numbers of ceremonial artifacts, including musical instruments. Group Ma’ax included a western shrine type structure, but had an average amount of ceremonial artifacts with only incense burners being somewhat overrepresented. Thus, there is no evidence within the extensively excavated households suggesting a particular link between the presence or size of a ceremonial structure and the presence of ceremonial artifacts. This is not consistent with the hypothesis that large ceremonial structures in wealthy households were typically used for the performance of semi-public ceremonies as a service for members of other households. While some of these structures, such as the one at Ak’, may have been used in such a way, there is no evidence suggesting that all or even most of them were. Instead, the distribution of ceremonial artifacts suggests that large private ceremonial structures included within wealthy households were simply large versions of household shrines or perishable ceremonial structures, that may have served as a visual marker of wealth, as well as reinforced the link between the wealthy inhabitants and the spiritual realm, but did not systematically influence the nature or scale of the ceremonies performed within the household context. Many factors influencing the distribution of ceremonial artifacts, however, remain unknown, such as the nature of ceremonies using different types of artifacts, as well as the quantities of perishable artifacts that are missing from the archaeological record, potentially obscuring significant patterns of ceremonial practice.

The only household group where all types of ceremonial artifacts were overrepresented is the palace group K. This is the household with the highest relative numbers of ceremonial artifacts (3.2 per 1000 sherds), as figurines, musical instruments, and incense burners were all found there in relatively large quantities. This indicates that it is likely that ceremonial practices that were private (using figurines) or could have been performed on a larger scale (using musical instruments and incense burners) took place here relatively frequently and/or on a large scale. This overrepresentation of ceremonial artifacts is likely linked to court ceremonies, and related to the legitimation of the rulers as links to the supernatural world and spiritual leaders of the city (following Plunket 2002, 5). Ceremonial artifacts were also overrepresented in household group Ak’ (2.6 per 1000 sherds), but this is due only to a significant overrepresentation of musical instruments (in particular drums) in this group, while figurines and incense burners were underrepresented. This may indicate that there was a focus on semi-public ceremonies performed within the Ak’ household group, as musical instruments would have enabled performances for larger groups of people. This is also supported by the presence of a large ceremonial pyramidal structure associated with the household, but outside of the more private residential patio, which may suggest that the inhabitants of this group may have performed semi-public ceremonial services for people from outside the Ak’ household. Finally, ceremonial artifacts were relatively abundant in household group Ya’ab (2.9 per 1000 sherds), where musical instruments, whistles and ocarinas in particular, were also largely responsible for this relative overrepresentation. While similarly to group Ak’, this may point to the performance of semi-public ceremonies within the Ya’ab group, no similar large-scale ceremonial structure was found here. It is possible that similar semi-public ceremonial services were performed here in the context of a smaller scale ceremonial structure

While it seems that the performance of ceremonies in a semi-private setting within the household as a service to members of other households was not related to wealth, this does not mean that the phenomenon did not exist. 281

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Indeed, as seen above, some of the differences between households in both the numbers and types of ceremonial artifacts that they possessed may be explained by differences in the scale of ceremonies performed. This would be consistent with some households at different levels of wealth being involved in providing ceremonial practices as a service, although it may not be the only explanation. It is also possible that the observed differences are related to the nature of ceremonies performed, materials used, or personal preferences and habits of a household’s inhabitants. Whichever the case, however, it is clear that there was variation in the ways in which household ceremonial practices were performed in Uxul, and there was no single ceremonial household kit that seems to have been used. This variation, however, does not seem to correlate to wealth, and variation within socio-economic classes seems to have been as important as between them. The wealthy of Uxul did not uniformly perform their household ceremonies in the same way, nor did the poor, and variation seems to have been related to the specific individual characteristics of households rather than to their belonging to a socio-economic class.

show a bimodal distribution, with most having a diameter of about 2 cm, but a second peak at about 3 cm (see Figure 6.27). Only 13 were complete enough to measure their entire length (from rim to rim), measuring between 1.5 and 3.1 cm. It seems there was little relation between earspool diameter and length (r = .38, P = .38 > .1). The fragments weighed up to 2.8 g, meaning that the complete artifacts could have weighed several times more. The total weight is known only for the single complete earspool, which was one of the smallest found (only 1.1 cm in diameter at the rim and 1.5 cm long), weighing 1.3 g. It should be noted that larger, longer earspools may have been more likely to break, obscuring their total dimensions, meaning that large earspools are likely to be underrepresented in these measurements. There is no clear distinction, however, in size between those found within the Ma’ax context and those found in the rest of the site, indicating that the Ma’ax producers produced the entire range of sizes of these artifacts that were in use at Uxul. Of the earspools, 29 showed some kind of incised or molded decoration, while the others were plain. Most of the decorations were on the outside surface of the flared cylinders, some had simple notches on the rim, and only one had incised lines on the inside of the cylinder (h. in Figure 6.26). Most of the decorations were geometric in nature, including motifs such as straight lines, circles, spirals, etc. Nineteen of the earspools had such geometric motifs. Seven of the earspools had notches that were evenly spaced on the rim (either on the outside or inside), most of which had no other type of decoration, but one which had both geometric motifs on the outside surface and rim notches. Four of the earspool fragments, all of which were found within the Ma’ax context, showed a figurative decoration on the outside: two showed a “woven mat” pattern (b. and c. in Figure 6.26), one a floral pattern, and one showed a cross-legged seated figure in profile with a raised hand (a. in Figure 6.26).

6.7. Thin-walled flared clay earspools: production and consumption 6.7.1. Thin-walled earspools in Uxul A notable find in Uxul is the relatively large quantity of thin-walled flared cylindrical clay earspools. These correspond to ear ornaments with slightly flared walls and are sometimes also referred to as “napkin rings” (Grove 1987b, 271–73; Lee, Jr. 1969, 90). They would have been worn in the earlobe, through a stretched hole, and held in place by the flared ends. Such ear ornaments are found widely distributed throughout Mesoamerica, including in Classic Maya sites, but typically in relatively small quantities, and as sporadic individual finds (Grove 1987b, 271–73; Lee, Jr. 1969, 90). In Uxul, 54 of these were found in total, 49 of which were found as part of the construction fill of a single structure in household group Ma’ax 1. Additionally, within this same context, four molds (halves of two- or three-part molds) were found, indicating that this household group was home to a thin-walled flared cylindrical clay earspool production workshop (though only refuse related to the workshop was found, rather than the location of the actual workshop). See Figure 6.26 for a sample of the cylindrical earspools and molds found in Uxul.

The decorations on the outside of the artifacts would have been visible, but partly obscured by the earlobe when worn. The notches on the rims would have been visible from the front when wearing the ornament. Since the one with a geometric motif on the inside was fragmentary, it is difficult to tell how much of the design would have been visible from the front. It should be noted that this artifact was found within the palace complex group K, indicating it may have been a special artifact that may have been produced elsewhere, and possibly arrived at the palace through its outside connections. Since this is a single artifact, however, there is not enough evidence to confirm this, and it may also simply have been an unusual earspool from the same workshop which produced few ear ornaments with motifs on the inside.

Near exclusively fragments of this type of earspool were found, although one small ear ornament (found in Ma’ax, f. in Figure 6.26) was complete. Besides the 49 earspools identified in group Ma’ax, a fragment was found in ceremonial center group D, one in the palace complex group K, one in group G, one in group K’áak’, and one in group Pu’uk. The walls of all the earspools were between 0.1 and 0.3 cm thick. Of all the earspools, 43 were complete enough to measure their maximum diameter at the rim, measuring between 1.1 and 4 cm. The diameters

6.7.2. Earspool production: the Ma’ax production site Besides the high number of fragments of thin-walled cylindrical earspools found within the construction fill context of Ma’ax, several artifacts representing direct 282

Household Economy

Figure 6.26. Sample of the thin-walled flared cylindrical clay earspools (a.-j.) and their molds (k.-n.) found in Uxul. Decorations include an anthropomorphic figure (a.), “woven mat” patterns (b., c., and k.), geometric motifs (d., e., h, i., j., l, and n.), and rim notches (f., k., and l.) (photographs and drawings by author, Uxul Archaeological Project).

evidence of the production of these objects were found at this location. The most compelling evidence for the existence of an earspool producing workshop in Ma’ax is the presence of four earspool molds. These correspond to half-cylinder (three fragments and one complete) molds, three of which had the negatives of designs on their interior surface. They correspond to parts of two- or three-part molds that would have produced thin-walled

cylindrical earspools with molded designs. While none of the molds identified here corresponded directly to any of the fragments of earspools found, they would have produced very similar objects. Furthermore, one fragment of an earspool found in the context of Ma’ax had a misshapen, rough surface which may have been the result of production error or misfiring. Together with the large quantity of broken finished artifacts, these objects clearly 283

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 6.27. Distribution of the maximum diameter (in cm) of the thin-walled cylindrical earspools found in Uxul.

indicate the presence of clay earspool manufacturing in the context of the Ma’ax architectural group.

cm in diameter at the rim, and 2.4 cm long, with geometric molded motifs (including C-shapes and dots) and regularly spaced indentations on the outside of the rim. A third mold (n. in Figure 6.26) would have produced a wide flared earspool measuring 2.5 cm in diameter at the rim and 2 cm long, with vertical molded lines. The fourth mold (k. in Figure 6.26) produced a flared earspool that was 1.5 cm in diameter at the rim, and over 2.1 cm long (total dimensions are unknown because it was broken) with a woven molded motif and small indentations on the outside of the rim.

While the molds are relatively similar to the fragments of finished earspools in that they are parts of slightly flared cylinders, they are clearly distinguished from the finished product by the presence of negative molded designs on their interior surface. These designs would likely have been achieved by pressing clay onto an object (possibly made of a perishable and easily worked material) in the shape of an earspool with the molded or carved design in positive, obtaining its negative imprint inside the mold. Clay pressed into the fired mold in order to produce an earspool would then have acquired the shape and design of the mold in positive again. A second characteristic of the molds is that their walls are thicker than those of the finished artifacts: between 3 and 4 mm. This would have made the molds somewhat more solid and less likely to break during use, and very thin walls would not have been needed for aesthetic reasons. Additionally, each of the mold fragments found here included at least one edge, showing that these were half-cylinders, rather than full cylinders like the earspools.

6.7.2.1. Find contexts and chronology Almost all the earspools, both those found in group Ma’ax and elsewhere, were found within construction fill contexts, mainly collapse layers. This means that they were most likely part of refuse deposits which were later used as construction fill when architectural groups expanded. Only one of the earspool fragments, the one found in household group G, was found in a burial context and was possibly part of the grave goods the adult male individual was buried with. It is possible, then, that this was a personal ornament of the individual interred here, although it may also have been refuse included in the debris used to cover the burial.

One of the earspool molds (m. in Figure 6.26) was complete and weighed 2.6 g. It was undecorated and would have produced a relatively long and narrow plain flared earspool measuring 1 cm in diameter at the rim (0.7 cm in diameter at the narrowest part in the middle), and 2.9 cm long. A second mold (l. in Figure 6.26) would have produced a wider but barely flared earspool, measuring 2

All earspool fragments and molds found in group Ma’ax were excavated as part of the collapse layer of Structure 1 in household group Ma’ax 1. While this means that the actual location of the workshop is unknown, as none of the artifacts were found in situ, it is likely that 284

Household Economy the workshop would have been located either within the Ma’ax 1 household or very nearby at either the Ma’ax 2 or Ma’ax 3 households directly adjacent. This collapse layer is a mixed context that includes ceramics dated mainly to the Late Preclassic and Late Classic periods, the two main construction phases of the structure and household group. This means that the earspool production workshop in or very near this household must have existed at some time during either the Late Preclassic or Late Classic period, before and/or during the corresponding construction phase. Because of the mixed nature of this context the date of this workshop can’t be verified with certainty. It should be noted, however, that two in situ middens within the context of this household, dated to the end of the Late Classic and the beginning of the Terminal Classic, did not include any similar artifacts pointing to the production of ceramic earspools at the time of abandonment of the group. This would suggest that this activity was not going on anymore at that point in time, though it is also possible that refuse from the workshop ended up in other refuse deposits than the general household refuse.

rather would have existed during the Early and/or Late Classic periods. This makes the Late Classic construction phase of Structure 1 in household Ma’ax 1 the more likely moment of deposit of the refuse associated with the clay earspool workshop. 6.8. Paper: production Paper was widely used and produced throughout Mesoamerica. The type of paper most widely distributed in ancient Maya society was bark paper made of the inner layers of bark from the wild fig tree, or amate, tree (Coe et al. 2015, 121; Foster 2002, 318). In order to transform this into usable paper, the bark was soaked and boiled in maize water with lime or ash, rinsed, laid out as strips in a woven cross-hatch pattern, and beaten with a grooved stone bark beater (Coe et al. 2015, 121; Foster 2002, 318). It was then left to dry and was smoothed so that it could be written and painted on, although for a smoother finish it was often covered with a thin layer of plaster (Foster 2002, 318). This paper-making technique can be traced back more than 2000 years and is still used today in several indigenous communities in Mesoamerica (Foster 2002, 318). This type of paper was used for many different purposes in ancient Maya society, including the manufacture of codices, clothing, ornaments, headdresses, in ceremonial practices for burning and absorbing, etc. (Foster 2002, 318). The material also served economic purposes, such as the payment of tribute or levying of taxes (Coe et al. 2015, 121).

The burial in which the earspool fragment was found in group G was dated to the Early Classic based on the ceramics it contained. The one found in Group D was included in a mixed context collapse layer dated to the Early and Late Classic. The earspool fragments found in groups K’áak’ and Pu’uk were found in collapse layers that primarily contained ceramics dated to the Late Classic. The one found in the palace complex group K could not be dated on the basis of related finds.

Archaeologically, the only clear evidence that allows for direct identification of paper production in the Maya area is the presence of grooved stone bark beaters. These are typically flat ground stone objects that could be either held in the hand or hafted, with grooves of striations engraved on a flat or slightly curved surface (most often parallel lines, but cross-hatch patterns are also possible) (Grove 1987a, 333–34; Hunter 1978, 28; Lee, Jr. 1969, 127–30). Smoothing stones (with or without a handle) may also be linked to the practice of paper-making in the archaeological record, though their use is not as specific and they may have had several different functions (Grove 1987a, 334).

While the earspools are difficult to date exactly due to the mixed nature of the contexts in which they were found, it seems that outside of group Ma’ax, none were found that were dated to before the Early Classic. While it can’t be verified whether the Ma’ax workshop was responsible for the production of most, if not all, of the earspools found elsewhere in Uxul, this does seem the most likely scenario. Indeed, the production of these artifacts seems too extensive to have been for the exclusive personal use of the inhabitants of Ma’ax, especially given the scarcity of such objects found elsewhere, indicating that this was not a widespread household production activity geared toward personal consumption, and that personal consumption of such artifacts was not typically high. Instead, this seems to have been a somewhat specialized activity geared towards exchange. It is likely, then, that the inhabitants of Uxul would have been the primary consumers of these earspools, as there would have been no clear necessity to import such objects on a large scale (though some may still have been imported sporadically in conjunction with other goods, or as part of different exchange networks such as elite reciprocal gift-giving). Any possible export of these objects to consumers outside of the main Uxul settlement cannot be verified here. If the workshop of group Ma’ax was, in fact, the one supplying Uxul with these artifacts, it seems unlikely that it would have dated to the Late Preclassic (as none of the earspools at the site were dated to this period), but

In Uxul, while direct evidence for paper production is scarce, four stone bark beaters were found, one of which is complete (see Figure 6.28). Two of these were found within the context of household group G, one was found in residential group Ak’, and one in the palace complex group K. The bark beater from group K and one of those found in group G were found in collapse layers (the one in group G being dated to the Late Classic period on the basis of the ceramics it contained), meaning that their context is mixed. The second one from group G was found within a burial context of an adult male dating to the Early Classic period, though it is unclear whether the object was part of the grave goods and therefore a personal object of the buried individual, or was simply included in the fill used to cover the body. The one from 285

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands

Figure 6.28. Bark-paper beaters found in Uxul (a. was found in group Ak’, b. in group K, and c. and d. in group G) (photographs taken by author (a., c., d.) and Laura Heise (b.), Uxul Archaeological Project).

group Ak’ was found in a refuse disposal context that was dated to the Late Classic period.

15.5 × 8.1 cm and 4 cm thick. It was irregularly shaped, roughly rectangular, and with rough surfaces, one of which had cross-hatched grooves (three lengthwise and two across). It showed no groove along its perimeter which would have allowed it to be easily hafted, indicating it was

The bark-paper beater found in group Ak’ (object a. in Figure 6.28) was complete, and weighed 585 g, measuring 286

Household Economy more likely used as a hand-held tool. The one found in the palace complex group K (object b in Figure 6.28) was broken, meaning that its total dimensions are unknown. It was roughly rectangular, measuring 8.9 cm wide and 4.4 cm thick, over 6.9 cm long, and weighed over 456 g. It was much more regularly shaped than the one from group Ak’, with both surfaces very flat and grooved. One surface had tightly spaced, though not very straight, parallel grooves. The opposite surface was divided into four quadrants, each with roughly parallel shallow grooves perpendicular to those in the quadrants next to it. It shows a wide groove around the perimeter (although it is not regularly visible on all sides), meaning the object was likely meant to be hafted. Both of the bark beaters found in group G were broken. The first fragment (object c. in Figure 6.28) was 7.2 cm wide, 3.6 cm thick, over 6.2 cm long, and weighed over 271 g. It was roughly rectangular, with one domed and one flat grooved surface. The grooves are roughly parallel and not very regular or deep. There was a wide and deep groove around the perimeter of the object, indicating it was meant to be hafted. The second fragment (the one found in the context of the Early Classic adult male burial, object d. in Figure 6.28) was part of a smaller bark beater, that was 4.7 cm wide, 3.8 cm thick, over 4.8 cm long, and weighed over 182 g. this was the most regularly shaped beater of the four, with an oval shape and two very flat and regularly grooved surfaces. The grooves on both surfaces were relatively deep and very straight and lengthwise parallel. The grooves on one surface were spaced more closely together than on the other side. A deep groove around the perimeter of the object indicates it was hafted.

and typically represent sporadic finds (Lee, Jr. 1969, 129– 31; McAnany 2010, 122–23). To the knowledge of the author, there has been no extensive comparative research on the distribution of such objects in Maya settlements, meaning that any pattern on who was typically involved in the production of paper production is unknown. The distribution of these objects in Uxul, however, seems not unusual for Classic Maya settlements and is indicative of individual households having been involved in paper production on relatively limited scales.

No bark beaters were found outside of these four residential contexts, suggesting that the manufacture of paper in Uxul was likely a predominantly domestic activity. The lack of larger quantities of these objects in a single location, or their association with other tools such as smoothers, suggests that this activity was not highly specialized or performed on a large scale. While a larger, more specialized, papermaking workshop may have existed elsewhere at the site, it seems that small-scale production was not unheard of. What quantities of paper these household producers would have been able to produce, and whether they would have done so for commercial or domestic purposes is unclear.

Almost 14,000 chert artifacts found in Uxul have been inventoried so far. This inventory was performed by Karin Hildebrandt, Julia Kościuk-Załupka, and Martyna Lech. The inventory of the lithic materials is not complete, however, and the total number is estimated to be closer to 30,000 objects (Kościuk-Załupka, Julia, pers. comm., email message to author, 2019, October 12). The inventory of the remaining lithic materials was scheduled for the spring of 2020, but the COVID-19 global health crisis prevented this until further notice. This means that a full analysis of the distribution of chert tools and pieces related to production is not possible here. In particular, the analysis of the chert materials found in most of the extensively excavated households (including groups Ak’, G, K, K’áak’, Ma’ax, Pu’uk, Wob, and Ya’ab) has either not been started or is incomplete. While I include here some general observations and interpretations on the use and distribution of chert artifacts in Uxul, a more thorough analysis of the lithic material is needed once the inventory is complete. Differences between individual households or between socio-economic classes are not studied here, since the inventoried chert assemblages are incomplete and not representative.

6.9. Chert: production and consumption Chipped and flaked chert was one of the primary materials for sharp tools and weapons for the ancient Maya (Foster 2002, 315). It was used for varied purposes, including agriculture, craft production, war, sacrificing and butchering, quarrying, stone carving, etc. (Andrieu 2014b). Regular quality flint is easily available throughout the Maya Lowlands, as sources are evenly distributed in the limestone bedrock, while higher quality fine-grained chert sources were rarer, and the materials were sometimes exchanged over long distances (Andrieu 2014b; Horowitz, Canuto, and Andrieu 2020). The Maya lithic industry typically took place at different levels, with homemade production found in most households responsible for simple (sometimes retouched) percussion flakes and coarse chopping tools and bifaces, while high-quality standardized tools, as well as eccentrics, were made by part-time specialists (Andrieu 2014b; Horowitz, Canuto, and Andrieu 2020).

While two of the bark beaters were found in the palace complex and in the very high-status household group Ak’ (i.e. the two wealthiest households as determined by construction volume), the presence of the other two in the much less wealthy group G (which was part of the welloff but not very wealthy category III households) suggests that paper production was not exclusively an elite activity. However, the very low number of these artifacts does not allow for a more in-depth analysis of the relationship between socio-economic status and the distribution of paper production.

Although a formal study of the origins of the chert material in Uxul has not been conducted, it is clear that chert nodules are not only present, but relatively abundant within the outcrop on which the city was built. The colors

While the presence of bark beaters similar to the ones found in Uxul has been recorded throughout the Maya area and Mesoamerica, they are rarely found in large numbers, 287

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands of many of the chert artifacts seem to generally correspond to those of natural chert nodules found in Uxul’s quarries and the surrounding region, and it is assumed that a large portion of the chert used at the site was local in origin. It is possible, however, that some chert was imported as well, probably in the form of more elaborate artifacts. The presence in household contexts of not only chert tools, both simple and elaborate, but also cores, miscellaneous flakes that were likely related to knapping, unfinished tools, repaired tools, and ad hoc tools (Hildebrandt 2011; Kościuk-Załupka, Julia, pers. comm., email message to author, 2019, October 12) suggests that many, if not all, households in Uxul were involved in some way in the chert tool industry. It is likely that members of most households were capable of making their own simple chert tools such as cutters and scrapers for general household use. While more elaborate tools may have been produced for trade by specialists, it is likely that simple tools were frequently made within the household for personal use as needed. It seems that chert cores were part of the typical household inventory (though they were not very abundant) to be used to produce simple flakes for immediate use. In this case, simple chert tools likely did not circulate commercially, or only minimally, and people would often rather obtain chert cores as a raw material. This does not, however, preclude the existence of a trade of more elaborate artifacts, as well as simple ones, as finished objects, and it is likely that both simple household chert industries and more specialized commercial ones existed side by side. It should be noted that although cores were not rare, they were also not as abundant as might be expected if all tools were made locally (Kościuk-Załupka, Julia, pers. comm., email message to author, 2019, October 12). It is possible, then, that at least part of the lithic industry at Uxul was based on the exchange of blanks, rather than raw materials. In such a case, instead of obtaining either cores or finished tools for domestic use, people may have preferably obtained blanks, which were processed to a degree (elsewhere in Uxul or imported) and could be used to produce more specific tools as needed. Although the inventory was not complete on the chert assemblage of the Ya’ab group, it seems it was consistent with the workshop environment identified previously (see 6.3.2 Greenstone artifact production: the Ya’ab workshop and 6.4.2 Shell artifact production: the Ya’ab workshop). Indeed, many chert drills, borers, burins, and perforators were found there (Kościuk-Załupka, Julia, pers. comm., email message to author, 2019, October 12), which may have been used for the working of shell and/ or greenstone materials at the Ya’ab workshop location. It is as yet unclear whether the Ya’ab group was responsible for the manufacture of its own tools, or whether they were obtained from an outside specialist.

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Part III Discussion and Conclusions

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7 Discussion of the Ancient Uxul Economy 7.1. Wealth inequality and its implications

Colombi 1990, 18; Fazio and Modica 2012; Nirei and Aoki 2016).

Wealth distribution in Uxul during the Late Classic period, as measured through non-perishable household construction volumes, corresponds to a Pareto-lognormal distribution. This is reflected in high degrees of economic inequality (Gini = 0.62 on a scale of 0 to 1) and low degrees of economic mobility. The distribution of wealth shows that society at Uxul was partially stratified, with a small number of extremely wealthy households, a good proportion of well-off but not very rich people corresponding to a possible middle class, and a large number of relatively poor households. Distinctions between social classes were not very clearly marked, however, and there is likely to have been some overlap between social classes in the amount of wealth they were able to obtain. Modern economic models suggest that this means that there were mechanisms in place in the economy of Uxul that ensured the maintenance of the wealth of the highest elite. The ruling class would have been able to exert some control over the economy and profit from it through mechanisms such as taxation, organization of market processes, organization of longdistance trade, administration, etc., but their control of the economy was far from complete. Indeed, if elite control of the economy in Uxul had been very strong and widespread, and wealth had been accessed by legal status based on a rigid centralized economic and social hierarchy, a much stricter and clearly marked stratification of economic classes would have been expected. That is not to say that clear distinctions between social classes and identities did not exist in Uxul, but these were not directly reflected in the distribution of wealth.

It is clear that there were significant wealth disparities present in ancient Uxul society. However, the relationship between wealth and measures of general well-being and power at Late Classic Uxul was complex. In societies with high degrees of wealth inequality, wealthier people are often much better off in terms of comfort, access to goods and services, and daily workloads than poorer people because their wealth enables them to obtain many advantages. Wealth, depending on how the economy is organized, is typically reflected by a greater amount of economic choices available to the wealthy, including better access to high-quality and expensive goods, a larger variety of household goods, better locations for the household, and sometimes even better access to political power. In Uxul, however, many of the expected links between wealth and advantages in measures of general well-being were not clearly observable. The first measure of well-being that was considered for this research was social integration. Access to social networks provides many social and economic opportunities, and good social integration into a community is generally linked to a high level of quality of life (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 367; Smith 2015, 4–5, 2016, 58). In urban contexts it is often observed that those with higher degrees of social integration, especially within their neighborhoods, tend to score higher on measures of economic prosperity (Smith 2015, 5), both because social ties may have strengthened their wealth, and because their wealth may have afforded them a better, more accessible physical location within the community. In the case of Uxul, however, wealthier households (with the exception of the palace complex Group K) tended to be slightly less well socially integrated than their poorer counterparts. Their social integration was slightly lower as measured by intra-site mobility and access to other households, both within the settlement as a whole and within their own neighborhoods. Furthermore, wealthier classes were somewhat less well connected to their socio-economic peers than were people belonging to poorer classes. Although wealthy households in the northern and northeastern neighborhoods were slightly better socially integrated than poorer households on average, this advantage was not statistically significant. Wealth in Uxul did not automatically translate into better social integration and access to the advantages linked to it. It is likely, then, that wealth in Uxul was both not systematically built on social integration, and that it did not necessarily confer any particular advantages for accessing social integration.

Similar distributions of wealth are often observed in modern economic systems that are largely based on market exchange which is supervised by a government (through mechanisms such as taxation and rules about monopolies and what can and can’t be traded) (Brzezinski 2014; Colombi 1990, 18; Fazio and Modica 2012; Steere and Kowalewski 2012, 38–39). In particular, a Pareto-lognormal distribution of wealth as well as the presence of a middle class are typical characteristics of modern commercialized economies, and suggest that the Late Classic Uxul economy was most likely based on commercialization and market exchange as well. Such systems, through elite or government control and manipulation, favor its wealthiest members, ensuring their wealth and economic growth. Economic mobility was low, but would not have been impossible. The lack of a distribution of wealth corresponding to an actual powerlaw at Uxul indicates that the economy was not based on rigid centralized class hierarchies, and that economic agency existed at all levels of society (Brzezinski 2014; 291

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands A second measure of well-being studied here was access to public resources and services including the water reservoirs and ceremonial centers. In urban settings elites are often observed to have been able to obtain favorable locations for their households with regard to urban services (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 154). Proximity to vital public provisions is advantageous because it reduces daily or periodic traveling times necessary to access public resources and services. Furthermore, the elite are often directly associated with public infrastructure because they may have been involved directly in its organization, maintenance, or the provision of public services related to it. In the case of Uxul, however, wealthy households were not found to have had any systematic advantage when it came to accessing these public services. The palace complex was found to have been strongly associated with the various centrally located ceremonial centers of Uxul, and its royal inhabitants are expected to have played an important role in providing public ceremonial services, but this connection did not extend to elite households in general. Even in the case of the southwestern neighborhood, the only one outside of the city center with its own independent ceremonial center, the elite showed no particular association with the locus of public ceremonial services. Elites nowhere at the site had any systematically significant advantage when it came to their access to the aguadas of Uxul, meaning that members of elite households would have had to walk just as far on a (near-)daily basis in order to obtain the water necessary for their survival. This suggests that the wealth of Uxul’s elite was most likely not based on a systematic association with public ceremonial services or on the control over the city’s vital water supply. Additionally, wealth was also not used to obtain an advantage in access to these public resources, either by choosing an advantageous location for the household or by influencing the location of these public resources.

artifacts than non-elites. Differences in absolute quantities may well have been related to differences in general well-being, and may have been used as a marker of status. However, if the absolute quantities of artifacts a household possessed functioned as a form of conspicuous consumption, the consumption of specific types of artifacts did not. It should also be noted that although wealthy households may well have owned many possessions in larger absolute quantities, this was not accompanied by the presence of more storage facilities, underground or otherwise. Although many factors pertaining to storage are unknown, such as the volumes of chultunes, their individual functions, or the prevalence of above-ground storage, the data available here do not suggest any clear association between wealth and better access to household storage. Only two aspects of general well-being considered throughout this study seem to have been more or less correlated to wealth in Late Classic Uxul. The first of these was household visibility. While a full analysis of visibility at the site was not performed, wealthy households tended to systematically be situated higher up in the landscape of their neighborhood than poorer households, which would have made them on average more visible within their surroundings. However, this visibility was achieved through investment in vertical architecture, in particular the building of large and high basal platforms, rather than as a result of advantageous household locations. So while wealth clearly enabled people to build large and visible houses, visually dominating their surroundings and outwardly marking their wealth and power, it did not enable them to choose particularly high locations on which to build their household. The second measure of well-being that was related to wealth in Uxul was the diversity of household assemblages. For many of the artifact categories studied here, although almost none were exclusive to the elite, and the wealthy and the poor broadly had access to the same types of artifacts, wealthy households systematically owned a larger variety of different types of artifacts. The disparities in assemblage diversity are discussed more in detail below (see 7.4 Consumption patterns). The diversity of goods available to a household is often cited as a measure of the capabilities, well-being, and prosperity of that household (Smith 2015, 3; Stark et al. 2016). A high degree of diversity of goods reflects the ability of a household to pursue the goals they value, as well as to pursue various goals, and a capacity to carry out basic activities in more ways than one (Smith 2015, 4, 2016, 58–59; Stark et al. 2016). In short, the number of different kinds of goods within individual households correlates positively with higher levels of quality of life (Smith 2015, 4). Wealth in Uxul enabled people to acquire many different types of artifacts in different varieties.

Another measure of well-being that was studied is the capacity of elites to consume and own larger amounts of high-value goods. Expensive and exotic goods are easier to obtain for the wealthy, since they have, by definition, more disposable income than poorer individuals. Furthermore, such goods are not only used to attain higher degrees of well-being and increased comfort, they are also frequently used as markers of wealth and prestige, reinforcing and legitimizing the power and wealth of the elite. It is typically expected, then, that wealthy households were able to expend more disposable income on high-value goods and resources than poorer people. However, in Uxul, almost no clear correlations were found between the presence and relative proportions of high value or utilitarian artifacts and wealth, suggesting that both elites and commoners had similar access to them (see 7.4 Consumption patterns below for a more detailed discussion of consumption patterns). It is important to note here that absolute quantities of artifacts for different households are unknown, only the proportions of household assemblages that were made up of different types of artifacts. This means that it is possible, and probable, that elites owned much larger quantities of

Overall, it is clear that in Late Classic Uxul, while wealth inequality was high, it did not directly correspond to large disparities in quality of life. The wealthy had few 292

Discussion of the Ancient Uxul Economy systematic advantages over the poor in any of the measures related to quality of life. Wealth was not directly related to higher degrees of social integration, better access to public resources and services, larger storage capacities, higher household locations, or exclusive access to high-value and luxury goods. The lack of correlation between wealth and these measures of quality of life indicates both that the wealth of the elite of Uxul was not systematically built upon advantages in these areas, and that wealth did not necessarily lead them to profit significantly from these advantages. There are several possible explanations for this. The first is that the measures of quality of life considered here were not universally particularly desirable goals for wealthy individuals, meaning that even if their wealth would have enabled them to gain better access to these measures, they were not necessarily eager to pursue those goals. Instead, many wealthy individuals and households may have focused on using their wealth to pursue other goals that they may have considered more desirable. It is also possible, however, that wealth did not enable wealthy individuals to pursue these goals at all. Factors such as household location with regard to social integration, access to public resources, visibility, as well as exclusive access to certain luxury and high-value goods may not have been obtainable through wealth alone. Instead, such measures of well-being may have been accessed through other social mechanisms, such as social identity, lineage, political power, etc. This would mean that wealth, power, and social identity were not directly linked in Uxul, and that although they may have been related in some ways, they did not systematically accompany each other.

on their identity, personal preferences, abilities, etc. There was as much variation within economic classes in the way people lived their daily lives as there was between classes. Wealth in Late Classic Uxul did not automatically lead to advantages in all aspects of daily life, whether concerning power, social integration, or access to resources. The only advantages it did systematically confer were imposing and highly visible household architecture and a high diversity of goods. It should be noted that there are other possible measures of quality of life that were not considered in the present study, such as health, nutrition and diet, or access to public services that were not detected at Uxul, such as a marketplace, etc., meaning that wealth may have systematically conferred advantages in subjects that were not included in the present study. Still, it is clear that although wealth inequality in Uxul was high, its relationship with quality of life, political power, and social identity was complex. There doesn’t seem to have been a direct relationship between economic prosperity and sociopolitical power. This is consistent with the observation that the distribution of wealth in Uxul corresponds to a commercialized society where economic mobility is low but possible, meaning that people of all socio-political identities had economic agency and would have been able to accumulate wealth, regardless of their socio-political identity and power. Although an elite class at Uxul may have supervised and controlled aspects of the economy, as evidenced by the distribution of wealth corresponding to an administered economy, they did not have total control over it, and this likely only corresponds to a specific elite class, rather than to the wealthy elite in general. Economic power and other types of power were not synonymous in Uxul, and both the wealthy and the poor formed varied and heterogeneous strata. There were no monolithic elite or commoner classes, and people had intersectional identities of which wealth was only one aspect. Wealth did not dictate what daily life was like for the inhabitants of Uxul, and social identity did not dictate how much wealth they could accumulate.

Finally, and most likely, it is possible that different wealthy and poor individuals and household groups simply aimed for different goals, and had different incentives and notions about which aspects of life were desirable and worth pursuing. Indeed, although very few measures of wellbeing were correlated with wealth in any systematic or statistically significant way, this does not mean that wealth did not come with certain advantages. Indeed, some wealthy households scored very high on some measures of wellbeing, while scoring low on others. Similarly, some poor households scored highly in certain aspects of well-being, higher than some elites, but worse in other aspects. Some elites may well have been able to obtain advantageous locations with regard to different public services, but were less concerned with social integration. Others may have invested in their social integration, to the detriment of their location on a high point in the landscape. Some individuals may have been more concerned with visual markers of wealth and power and invested in highly visible locations for their households and in obtaining large amounts of high-value goods. In short, what has been demonstrated here is that wealth alone did not systematically determine what goals a household pursued or was able to obtain. The different economic classes at Uxul seem to not have formed significantly homogeneous blocks of the population with homogeneous goals and functions. Instead, within each of the economic classes, different people seem to have played different roles in society, and pursued different goals based

7.2. The existence of a middle class The existence of a middle class, i.e. a good portion of the population being well off but not extremely rich, is a characteristic that typically arises in commercialized societies (Atkinson and Brandolini 2014; Banerjee and Duflo 2008; Eisenhauer 2008). In Uxul, wealth category III possibly corresponds to such a middle class, which is further support for the interpretation of its economy being based largely on free market exchange. However, while the concept of “middle class” is used extensively both in scientific literature and colloquially, there is no clear consensus on how the concept should be defined, and the concept remains vague and arbitrary (Atkinson and Brandolini 2014, 77; Eisenhauer 2008; Stearns 1979). Because the relationship between social class and wealth is variable, the two are often studied separately by sociologists and economists. The composition of middle-income groups tends to be highly heterogeneous, 293

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands and definitions of the middle class tend to be ambiguous and arbitrary, making its identification and comparison cross-culturally problematic (Atkinson and Brandolini 2014, 94–95; Banerjee and Duflo 2008, 4; Eisenhauer 2008). Still, economists generally stress the importance of a large middle class for processes of economic growth, democracy, and political stability (Atkinson and Brandolini 2014, 95; Banerjee and Duflo 2008, 3). People belonging to a middle class, because they generally have a certain amount of disposable income, have a tolerance for delayed gratification, are capable of accumulating capital, and have economic power in their demand for high-quality consumer goods which bolsters production, and in turn can raise income levels for everyone (Banerjee and Duflo 2008, 4–3). A large middle class, then, can stimulate a market economy, stability, and even democracy (Banerjee and Duflo 2008, 3; Eisenhauer 2008). Overall, the middle class can be defined as both a social segment of society (characterized by traits such as specific occupations, ethnicity, average numbers of children, education, type and location of accommodation, types of leisure, etc.), as well as an economic one (characterized by a specific level of income) (Banerjee and Duflo 2008). Overall, though, the middle class is characterized by their stability of income above what is strictly needed for subsistence, allowing them a greater amount of economic choice and freedom than those living under the poverty line, but without the ability to lose said income for prolonged periods of time without losing this economic freedom (Banerjee and Duflo 2008).

are not mutually exclusive, however, as it is possible that only two distinct social classes were formally recognized in ancient Maya society (nobility vs. commoners), but distinct socio-economic classes may still be recognized economically and materially in the archaeological record (Masson and Peraza Lope 2004, 198). In that case, while the middle class may have formally been recognized as non-elite, they would still have differed observably in their quality of life and level of wealth from poorer commoners. This is the case, for example, in many modern monarchies and nobility based societies: the middle class has the same legal status as the poorest layer of society, which is different from formally recognized nobility, but the middle class is significantly better off than people living below the poverty line. In short, a middle class does not need to be legally or formally recognized for it to be observable within a given society. However, dynamic models for social organization emphasize that Maya society varied considerably over time and space, and its socio-economic organization may not have been uniform all over (Marcus 1993; Somerville, Fauvelle, and Froehle 2013, 1540). At the southern Lowlands site of Caracol, Belize, Arlen and Diane Chase (1996a) argue that a middle class was not only present during the Classic period, but was an important component of the city’s economic and political organization. As in Uxul, and unlike many other Maya sites at the time, wealthy households were not exclusively concentrated in the center of the site, luxury goods were found throughout the city instead of being confined to ceremonial precincts and palaces, and commoners were taking part in similar household rituals as the elite (Chase and Chase 1996a, 68). Based largely on burial practices, it is argued that here that there was no binary distribution of clearly separated rich and poor, and instead wealth distribution was continuous (Chase and Chase 1996a, 71). There was no clear gap between elites and commoners, and a large proportion of the city’s inhabitants seem to have had access to a good level of wealth and high quality of life, corresponding to a “middle class” (Chase and Chase 1996a, 71). The similarities between Caracol and Uxul in settlement organization and distribution of luxury goods (though similarities in the distribution of burial practices can’t be verified here as they were beyond the scope of the present research) suggest that the existence of the wealthy but not extremely wealthy category III households at Uxul may indeed correspond to a middle class.

Because the term “middle class” denotes both economic and social characteristics, and the division between elites and commoners is often unclear, it is necessary to consider multiple lines of evidence concurrently in order to assess differences between social strata in archaeology (Lohse and Valdez, Jr. 2004, 5). In this way, a better understanding of how social and economic behaviors were conditioned as the result of institutionalized processes and socioeconomic inequality arises (Lohse and Valdez, Jr. 2004, 5). Whether or not Maya societies typically included a middle class is the subject of some debate, and it would not have been uniform throughout Maya societies (Lohse and Valdez, Jr. 2004; Marcus 2004; Masson and Peraza Lope 2004; Somerville, Fauvelle, and Froehle 2013, 1540). While historic documents suggest a welldefined distinction between nobles and commoners in Mesoamerican societies (Marcus 2004, 261; Masson and Peraza Lope 2004, 197), archaeological evidence, on the other hand, sometimes points to a more continuous social stratification, with an upwardly mobile middle class, based on architectural, mortuary, and artifact distributions, as well as differences in diet (Chase and Chase 1996a; King and Potter 1994; Marcus 2004, 261; Masson and Peraza Lope 2004, 197; Somerville, Fauvelle, and Froehle 2013; White et al. 2001). Others, however, interpret such continuous variation as evidence of differences within a commoner class, rather than of the existence of a separate middle class (Marcus 1993, 2004). These interpretations

Furthermore, the ancient city of Caracol shows a very similar Gini index to that of Uxul (0.6 for construction volume), as well as a similar Lorenz curve with a slightly right bulging curve (Chase 2017). While I could not compare the actual values and distribution on a double logarithmic plot, this suggests that economic distribution and inequality at Caracol were similar to Uxul. It stands to reason, then, given the similarities in economic organization between the two sites, that the category III households identified in Uxul correspond to the same middle class category as was identified at Caracol. 294

Discussion of the Ancient Uxul Economy The prosperity of this middle class is supported by the observed consumption patterns. Category III households had access to a wide array and variety of artifacts and resources. From the data considered here, it seems that they tended to own a slightly more diverse artifact assemblage than poorer category IV households, especially when it came to high-value artifacts such as greenstone ornaments and shell artifacts. While not to the same degree as observed for the very wealthy elite, they seem to have been better able to afford elaborate ornaments of high-quality materials than poorer households, which were most often limited to simple beads and small pieces of such materials. The consumption patterns of this economic class, which was identified through the analysis of their architecture, therefore support their identification as a middle class with a level of disposable wealth intermediate between the very wealthy and the poor.

to speculate on the social recognition of this economic class as distinct for the inhabitants of Uxul. It needs to be stressed that when talking about a middle class in Uxul, I use the term purely in the economic sense since social or legal distinctions can’t be unambiguously distinguished in this case: minor nobles and wealthy commoners, as well as any cross-cutting social identities, may be included within the economic bracket here identified as the middle class. However, since none of the measures used here for the evaluation of differences in quality of life (through access to goods and resources) indicates a formal distinction between Uxul’s economic classes, suggesting that they were either not legally recognized or that wealth and social status were more or less independently negotiated so that they did not directly correspond (i.e. some nobles may have been poorer than some commoners). Both of these possibilities, showing a lack of formal economic hierarchy, are hallmarks of commercialized societies where economic mobility was possible (even if difficult).

Furthermore, this class is characterized and identifiable by its distinct construction strategies. Indeed, belonging to this socio-economic class was marked by a significant increase in investment in construction volume and vertical architecture compared to poorer households. The disposable wealth that characterizes middle classes is, in this case, expressed as an ability to invest significantly in masonry architecture, a luxury much less easily attainable by the poorer category IV households. This higher investment in masonry versus perishable architecture would have visually distinguished category III households from category IV ones, meaning that this difference in class between them would have been visible to the population of Uxul itself. This indicates that belonging to this middle class would have been a part of people’s social identity, suggesting that it was not merely an economic unit, but a socially recognized one as well. This is consistent with analyses of the middle class in modern societies as complex but distinct entities with social, cultural, and economic identities (Banerjee and Duflo 2008).

It should be noted, however, that Uxul’s possible middle class was not large. Indeed, it is represented by only 39 households, corresponding to roughly 16% of Uxul’s population. In modern commercialized societies, although there is a lot of variation, the middle class is often considered to represent about 60% of the population (Eisenhauer 2008). This means that the benefits of the existence of a solid middle class in stimulating market economy, stability, and democracy (Banerjee and Duflo 2008; Eisenhauer 2008) would not have been very important in Uxul. This is consistent with the observation of low economic mobility, and a measure of control by the wealthiest elite of the economy, skewing it in their favor. Still, while wealth inequality was high and economic mobility low, the existence of a middle class in Late Classic Uxul confirms that a fair portion of its population was able to have a high quality of life, economic agency and power, and the possibility to accumulate wealth regardless of legal social status.

The existence of a middle class suggests the possibility for economic mobility. A continuous wealth distribution such as is seen in Uxul indicates that commoners were able to accumulate wealth to the point that they became difficult to distinguish archaeologically from formal elites (Masson and Peraza Lope 2004, 198). This is recognized in Uxul in the continuous nature of wealth distribution, as well as in the presence of almost all expensive luxury goods (such as greenstone, polychrome ceramics, and obsidian) in many households that did not belong to the elite. Uxul’s category III households seem to correspond to such a middle class and are distinguishable based on their construction strategies. Archaeological data here is not abundant enough, however, to determine whether their archaeological material assemblages are also distinguishable from other socio-economic classes. This means that the observed middle class may actually have been larger than detected here if assessed through other material criteria (such as amounts of luxury goods, types of clothing, hairstyles, and quality of burials), though this cannot be confirmed here. This also makes it difficult

7.3. Settlement organization and its implications Fargher and colleagues (2019) argue that patterns in urban organization reflect strategies employed by political actors in order to achieve their goals, and can therefore be used as a basis for understanding government structures. They suggest that dense cities with well-developed and regular neighborhoods and public infrastructure point to a system in which collective political strategies were strongly implemented in a top-down fashion (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019, 174). On the other hand, cities that are either densely packed or dispersed, with poor spatial organization, little large scale public infrastructure (such as well-organized road networks, water supply systems, etc.), and a large degree of variability in neighborhood infrastructure and organization, are more suggestive of political elites who were focused on oppression and exclusionary political and economic strategies, rather than on the development of public well-being and prosperity (Fargher, Blanton, and 295

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019, 174–75). Elites were typically able to rule by oppressive and exclusionary tactics because the source of their power was largely exterior to the society they ruled. When power originates from and is based on internal processes, rulers have a high degree of responsibility to maintain those internal processes, and are highly accountable to their subjects, typically leading them to invest in public facilities (Kohler et al. 2018, 303). When the legitimation of their power is based on external factors, however, such as links to the supernatural world or to other more powerful rulers, the legitimation of that power is less dependent on internal processes, and they can afford higher degrees of oppressive and exclusionary tactics, without having to invest extensively in public well-being, without losing their legitimacy and therefore power. Because such autocratic rulers are not directly dependent on their subjects for revenue and power, there is less motivation to provide public goods (Kohler et al. 2018, 303).

units. Typically, in such cases, low-status households tend to cluster around the powerful and wealthy ones, among other reasons because administrative activities tend to be limited to elite residences (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019, 174). These elite residences are expected to have highly complex interior layouts in order to accommodate such political-economic activities (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019, 174). Furthermore, this kind of urban settlement tends to be relatively dispersed, without public provisions at the neighborhood level. Monumental and religious structures tend to be clearly associated with, or even within, elite residences, as they are both responsible for them and use them to reinforce and legitimize their power. Wealth inequality is typically very strongly marked in domestic architecture and artifact consumption in general. Royal monopolies on economic and ideological resources in particular will be clearly marked by monopolies on prestige goods, religious artifacts, sacred architecture and statues, and/or by ruler living standards that are well beyond the consumptive capacity of even the wealthiest elites (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019, 174). In such cases, little formal marking of neighborhood identities through artifact consumption and architectural programs is expected, coupled with an emphasis on vertical social ties rather than horizontal links (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019, 174).

Indeed, Fargher and colleagues (2019, 173–75) argue that in cities where strongly top-down political strategies implemented by the state are in place for organizing urban life, public infrastructure tends to be very present at the neighborhood level (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha‐ Pedemonte 2019, 172). In such cases, dense populations well supplied with public facilities and well-organized street networks are to be expected (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019, 172). Public goods tend to be evenly distributed, and neighborhoods tend to be uniform and centered around homogeneous public spaces and/or buildings (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha‐Pedemonte 2019, 172). Furthermore, such neighborhoods tend to be clearly delineated through the use of markers, walls, architectural patterns, etc., but still relatively open and accessible (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019, 172).

Uxul doesn’t correspond entirely to any of the situations described above, and a combination of these processes may better explain Uxul’s socio-spatial organization. The dispersed nature of the site, together with a high degree of variability seen in the way Uxul’s neighborhoods were organized, as well as the lack of consistent public infrastructure at the neighborhood level suggest that the organization of the city was not the result of strong top-down policies implemented by a state with strong collective political strategies. This is supported by the fact that public spaces and infrastructure don’t seem to be particularly well developed at Uxul. While this can’t entirely be proven, since open spaces in Uxul have received very little archaeological attention, making inferences on the presence or absence of public plazas, path networks, or other infrastructure that would not be clearly visible on the surface tenuous, the evidence that does exist is scarce. Indeed, only two formal sacbeob were identified near the center of the city, and these seem to have served more as a link between rulers and ceremonial centers, playing a specific role in the organization of specific activities, and underlining and legitimizing the power and importance of the ruler, rather than as public infrastructure or a “road network”. The sacbeob seem to have played little to no role in making any of Uxul’s services and resources more accessible to the general population, and the fact that they didn’t extend beyond the civic-ceremonial core of the city suggests that the general population would have had little benefit from them. They served to clearly connect the ruler to the ceremonial centers, but not the general population. Ceremonial centers were equally centralized in the urban landscape, limiting the access people on the

In cities where bottom-up strategies are largely responsible for solutions to public goods problems in the absence of a strong collective state, on the other hand, some public infrastructure is expected at the neighborhood level, but with significantly more variation between neighborhoods than in highly centralized collective states (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019, 173). In many cases, such neighborhoods will be closed off or otherwise inaccessible as a way of protecting internal interests. Such urban landscapes tend to be dense and chaotically organized, with little evidence of public facilities, such as street networks, provided by the state, especially in non-elite neighborhood contexts (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019, 173). In cities with little top-down or bottom-up investment in collective action, however, little evidence of public goods or investment in public infrastructure such as plazas, temples, assembly halls, etc. should be expected at the neighborhood level (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019, 173). Instead, other factors will predominate in the definition and organization of intermediate socio-spatial 296

Discussion of the Ancient Uxul Economy peripheries would have had to public ceremonies. Only the southwestern neighborhood had access to a ceremonial center that was not directly related to the main palace through either proximity or formal roads. The two aguadas are the clearest example of publicly made and publicly used infrastructure at Uxul, and although this may be the result of pragmatic limitations due to the nature of the terrain and landscape rather than of conscious decisions geared towards exclusion, people living in different neighborhoods had highly varying access to them. The aguadas are the only clear public infrastructure identified here that was likely the result of centralized collective action conceived mainly for the benefit of the general population instead of royal aggrandizing, but it is fair to say that they constitute the bare minimum for the survival of Uxul as an urban center. Public infrastructure was clearly not uniformly distributed between neighborhoods, with only the central ones being much better off in terms of access to most public infrastructure than those on the peripheries. The city’s organization of its public infrastructure and neighborhoods can therefore not be explained by strong top-down processes of a collective state.

population is difficult to make, especially in the absence of more systematic examination of differences in household layout between rich and poorer households. In fact, the only clear association of public monumental architecture with elite residences concerns the palace complex which clearly played a role in the public ceremonial centers close to it. Only for household group Ak’ was a possible specialization found in the performance of semi-public ceremonies for the surrounding households, while none of the other elite households that were examined seem to have had such a role. Furthermore, the fact that elite households were not systematically better socially integrated into their neighborhood (except to some extent those in the northern and northeastern neighborhoods) than their poorer counterparts contradicts their role as providers of important ceremonial, administrative, political, and economic services for commoners. Vertical social ties do not seem to have been more emphasized than horizontal ones, as poorer households tended to have equal or easier access to the households of their socioeconomic peers than to wealthy ones. While Fargher et al. (2019, 173–74) argue that in the absence of easily available public services provided through public action, poorer houses will tend to cluster around powerful and wealthy elite houses, because the elite will privately take over the roles of such public services, this phenomenon is not observed in Uxul.

However, Uxul isn’t a perfect fit for Fargher and colleagues’ (2019) model of a bottom-up approach to public services either. While the unequal distribution of public infrastructure and the relatively high variability of Uxul’s neighborhoods are consistent with bottom-up processes being responsible for public infrastructure at the neighborhood level, the open nature of the neighborhoods, without any formal or clearly defined artificial boundaries between them aimed at protecting local interests, contradicts this model. Instead, while bottom-up processes may well have been responsible for some of Uxul’s organization and collective and public infrastructure, but it seems that there are other processes at play too.

Fargher et al. (2019, 173–74) also contend that in a city with little investment in collective action, wealth inequality should be expected to be marked strongly in both domestic architecture and artifact consumption, and royal monopolies tend to be particularly pronounced. In Uxul it is clear that there is a strong marking of wealth inequality with regard to domestic architecture, with a Gini index of 0.62 for construction volume. Furthermore, the palace complex is disproportionally larger than the households of the wealthiest elite and well beyond their consumptive capacity, with almost three times the volume of the second largest household and five times that of the third largest. However, these disparities are not clearly observed in artifact consumption. While we know very little about the absolute quantities of artifacts consumed in different households, there is very little disparity in terms of the proportions of both common and uncommon goods. Poorer households had access to expensive prestige goods such as polychrome vessels and greenstone objects, in proportions not unlike those of wealthier households. Only one type of polychrome ceramic was found to be exclusive to the rulers of Uxul, but this probably concerned foreign vessels, possibly obtained as gifts, and not intended as visual markers of superiority (since they were not visually different from other polychrome vessels of the same types). The proximity and arrangement of the ceremonial centers in connection to the palace complex do suggest some degree of royal monopoly on ideological resources, with the royal elite obviously playing a key and unique role in ceremonies, both public and restricted. However, this monopoly is not complete, as the ceremonial complex in the southwestern neighborhood shows.

The low occurrence of public infrastructure outside of the city center, close to the palace complex, may indicate that there was simply little investment in collective actions in general, either bottom-up or top-down (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019, 173). Instead, other factors may have predominated in the organization of Uxul and the definition and development of its neighborhoods. In cases like this, administrative and political-economic activities tend to be organized in more private settings, such as elite households, rather than by way of public infrastructure and bureaucracy, meaning that monumental and ceremonial architecture will tend to be clearly associated with, or within, the residence of the ruling elite (Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019, 174). While there is some evidence in Uxul suggesting that elite residences may have been used for some kind of administrative and/or ceremonial activities (i.e. elaborate elevated ceremonial structures, in some cases nearpyramidal, domestic structures with complex interior layouts, including centralized benches and line-of-sight configurations), a distinction between such activities being geared towards private household concerns, or towards the providing of services for the general 297

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands Following the model laid out by Fargher et al. (2019), Uxul also shows more characteristics of a city where government was focused more on oppression, domination, and exclusionary political and economic strategies than on collective action. This is consistent with the observation that much of the political power and legitimacy of Uxul’s elite came from their connection to the ruling dynasty of Calakmul (Grube et al. 2012). Indeed, as discussed above (see 7.1 Wealth inequality and its implications), the political power of Uxul’s elite does not seem to have been significantly based on internal economic processes. Although the elite had some control over the economy, and indeed controlled most of the wealth during the Late Classic period, wealth and socio-political power seem to not have been directly related to each other in that the elite did not use their economic power to directly control socio-political processes or vice-versa, and the inhabitants of Uxul had a high degree of economic autonomy and agency. Instead, the iconography, epigraphy, and layout of the civic-ceremonial center of Uxul suggest that much of the power of its rulers was directly and explicitly related to their connection to the Kaan dynasty. This external source of power and legitimization was so strong that the collapse of the city of Uxul may have been directly related to the decline of the influence of Calakmul over the region, leading to a loss of legitimacy of the rulers of Uxul (Grube et al. 2012, 45). This loss of power would have led to the breakdown of the few public facilities that the elite did actively maintain: the aguadas (Grube et al. 2012, 45; Seefeld 2013b). The lack of investment by the rulers of Uxul in public resources and services, then, is consistent with the source of their power having been largely external to Uxul itself: because their power was based on a link with an external overlord they would have had little incentive to invest in public well-being to maintain the legitimacy of their power (see Kohler et al. 2018, 303), and could afford to employ oppressive and exclusionary tactics (though these do not seem to have been primarily economic in nature) to rule over Uxul.

Late Classic (Grube et al. 2012). Such a remodeling had little direct public benefit, and instead was performed to reinforce the power of Calakmul over the city, and legitimize the power of Uxul’s rulers by directly claiming the Calakmul dynasty as the source of their power. Political power at Uxul, then, seems to have been based on exclusionary tactics through the involvement of higher-up powers, instead of through active involvement in providing public resources to the people of Uxul, except for their bare means of survival. Furthermore, the remodeling of the Uxul ceremonial core must have involved enormous amounts of labor extracted from the Uxul population (probably through a system of tribute). This is consistent with the model laid out by Fargher and colleagues (2019) with the central power of Uxul being largely based on and legitimized by exclusionary and domineering tactics, rather than on the provision of public goods and resources to the population. This is supported by the relatively high Gini index showing a high degree of inequality measured in Uxul. While a high Gini index alone would not be evidence of an autocratic form of government, it has been shown cross-culturally that when exclusionary governance institutions dominate, inequality tends to be high (Feinman and Nicholas, 2020; Kohler et al. 2018). Indeed, autocratic regimes are found to systematically show higher levels of inequality than democratic or collective ones (Feinman and Nicholas, 2020; Kohler et al. 2018, 303). Other ancient states with similar Gini coefficients as Uxul (0.62 (such as Caracol (0.60) and Tikal (0.62) in the Maya area, as well as the Middle Kingdom Egyptian site of Kahun (0.68)) have been found to fall firmly on the autocratic side of governance (Feinman and Nicholas, 2020; Kohler et al. 2018, 304– 5) on the collective-autocratic scale created by Blanton and Fargher (2008). Ancient states around the world that fell on the collective or intermediate ends of this scale, on the other hand, tended to show systematically lower degrees of wealth inequality (Feinman and Nicholas, 2020; Kohler et al. 2018). When political power stems from an external source and there is little incentive for rulers to invest in public well-being and infrastructure because they are minimally dependent on their subjects, inequality tends to rise (Kohler et al. 2018, 302–5). Thus, the analysis of wealth inequality at Uxul, together with the lack of systematic investment in collective infrastructure, complement each other in suggesting governance in Uxul was autocratic in nature.

Overall, while Uxul is closest to a model of a city with little systematic investment in public infrastructure, where political elites are focused on oppression and exclusionary political-economic strategies rather than collective action (following Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019), it is missing some key components, most notably the lack of evidence for important roles of the elite in the provisioning of administrative, religious, and political services. It seems that the ruling elite of Uxul was more concerned with outward shows of superiority and legitimizing their position through impressive displays of architecture than with providing consistent and accessible public infrastructure for the people of Uxul. It seems that the main proportion of public infrastructure at Uxul can be seen as a strategy of the ruling class geared to domination and exclusion, rather than collective action for the benefit of the public. Indeed, the element in which centralized power is most clearly expressed was the ceremonial core of the site, which was entirely remodeled on the model of the Calakmul polity which ruled over Uxul during the

The absence of clear monopolies for either the rulers (except for ceremonial roles) or the elite in general, however, suggests that any strategies geared towards domination and exclusion were not aimed at economic processes, but rather concern symbolic and political power and superiority. Indeed, almost no correlation was found between wealth at Uxul and any of the measures of general well-being or consumption analyzed in this study, including social integration, access to resources, claims to favorable household location, craft specialization, or access to wealth objects such as polychrome vessels, 298

Discussion of the Ancient Uxul Economy Central Mexican obsidian, or greenstone. Any clear advantages that wealthy households had over poorer ones are sporadic, and seem to only have concerned a small part of the overall economy. Furthermore, the distribution of wealth at Uxul suggests that, although low, economic mobility was possible, and people had economic agency at all levels of society. The lack of clear links between wealth and social, political, or ceremonial advantages, as well as the lack of any clear separation between elites and nonelites, and the lack of any type of economic monopoly, contribute to the emerging picture that wealth in Uxul was not directly related to political and social power. While the rulers of Uxul may have overseen and controlled some parts of the economy of Uxul (for example, through regulation of market exchange processes), it seems that their strategies for the legitimation of power were not economically exclusionary or oppressive.

ceremonial complexes, and to have been geared towards reinforcing the power of the ruler rather than providing easily accessible public resources. Furthermore, these exclusionary and superiority tactics concerned political and symbolic power much more than they did economic exclusion. Only the rulers, however, seem to have profited from this, as non-royal elites don’t seem to have gained any significant power from these tactics. In the northern and northeastern neighborhoods, on the other hand, nonroyal elites seem to have benefitted from these central tactics, as they gained a more organizational role within the neighborhood as a response to the lack of centralized provision of public resources. The southwestern neighborhood seems to have responded to the same lack of centralized collective action by organizing and developing public infrastructure in a more bottom-up manner. Thus, the socio-spatial organization of Uxul was complex and not uniform throughout the site. In any case, however, it is clear that the organization of the neighborhoods was not the result of strongly centralized top-down processes that focused on collective action as a strategy to solve public provisioning issues on a city-wide scale. Instead, Uxul seems to have organized itself around the central power core, largely through bottom-up, diverse, and localized strategies at the neighborhood scale.

However, these ruling strategies seem to concern the royal palace much more than the non-royal elites. Indeed, while the rulers clearly had political, administrative, and ceremonial roles, and households tended to cluster around them as evidenced by their good social integration, this does not seem to have been the case for non-royal elites. The non-royal elite does not seem to have systematically gained the organizational roles expected in the absence of centralized collective action, and instead it seems that different neighborhoods employed different strategies to respond to local public needs. Indeed, the northern and (to some extent) northeastern neighborhoods seem to conform better to a model where local elites took on organizational roles at the intermediate socio-spatial scale in the absence of direct centralized oversight, as the elites here were better socially integrated, with poorer households clustering around them. Elites here also had more advantages related to the location of their household regarding access to resources and visibility, indicating that they may have had more power within their neighborhood than elites in other parts of the site. The southwestern neighborhood, on the other hand, seems to correspond more to a model where bottom-up processes are responsible for public service provisioning. It is the only neighborhood outside of the central core of the site that had its own ceremonial center which was not directly linked to the royal palace. While the elite here was slightly better socially integrated into the neighborhood than poorer households and may have played a role in the organization of the neighborhood, they were not better off in other aspects and were not in any significant way better connected to the ceremonial center.

7.4. Consumption patterns The analysis of the distribution of different types of consumer goods among the Late Classic households of Uxul shows a remarkable homogeneity of household assemblages of household groups along the socioeconomic spectrum and in different parts of the site. The extensively excavated households had very high degrees of similarity in the styles of the ceramics they owned, as well as in the functions of those vessels, and their sources as revealed by their chemical signatures. The same is true for the sources of obsidian present at the different households. Guatemalan and Central Mexican obsidian showed a high level of co-occurrence and were represented in similar amounts in each of the extensively excavated households, indicating that they were no longer differentiated by the time they reached consumers, and everyone had access to the same obsidian sources. For each of these types of artifacts, the extensively excavated households showed a high degree of statistical similarity as measured by a Brainerd-Robinson coefficient of similarity. Thus, homogeneity between households is high for artifact classes for which known quantities were high enough to be representative of total assemblages, and for which statistical analysis could significantly be performed. The fact that household groups located in both the center of the site and on the peripheries, and belonging to both wealthy and poor socio-economic classes had a significantly high degree of similarity in their artifacts assemblages conforms to the homogenizing effect predicted by models of market exchange following the distributional approach (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155; Hirth 1998; Hutson 2021; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 87; Shaw 2012, 120). This indicates that households of all ranks obtained

To summarize, it seems that there were multiple processes going on at Uxul that were responsible for its organization, rather than a single uniform generalized one. The central, central-northern, and southeastern neighborhoods correspond to a system where the rulers implemented political strategies geared to domination rather than to collective action in order to maintain their superiority. Top-down centralized organization of public infrastructure seems to have concerned mainly the central 299

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands their goods from a single exchange sphere with no formal distinction between elites and non-elites.

more likely to be found in wealthy households, but also not exclusive to them). While the distribution of Palmar polychromes may be explained by their high value, as prices may have been prohibitive, the variation in the distribution of other types of high-value polychromes was not explained by differences in wealth, and is more likely to have been related to other factors, such as household activities, specific iconographies, and personal preferences. Similarly, the variation in the distribution of Pachuca obsidian, which is generally considered to have been of higher value than obsidian from other sources because of its rarity, clearly identifiable color, and link to the distant city of Teotihuacan, was not correlated to wealth. Furthermore, green obsidian was frequently found in the same contexts as black obsidian from other sources and seems not to have been significantly differentiated from them. It was clearly not a marker of status, and its heterogeneous distribution was most likely related to other factors such as specialization, personal preferences, personal connections, etc. The only type of obsidian artifact for which distribution was related to wealth is bifacial tools, all made from Central Mexican obsidian sources, which seem to have arrived at Uxul in a finished form, and were not found in relatively poor category IV households. As for the Palmar polychromes, however, this correlation between bifaces and wealth seems related to their high value, making them too expensive for poor households to obtain, rather than to formal restrictions, since middle class category III households were able to obtain them.

Other types of artifacts for which numbers are too low to allow for statistical analysis of homogeneity and distribution nevertheless conform to distributional models of market exchange. This is the case in particular for high-value and exotic goods such as greenstone and shell ornaments. While elaborate shell and greenstone artifacts and ornaments were more likely to be found in wealthy households, the relatively low numbers of these materials make them particularly vulnerable to sampling bias, since wealthier households are more likely to have been extensively excavated and therefore these rare artifacts were more likely to be found there. However, despite the difficulty this presents in the identification of patterns regarding the distribution of these high-value exotic objects, it is clear that they were in no way exclusive to elite households. Artifacts made from these materials were found in households along the entire socio-economic spectrum. There were no significant distinctions visible in access to marine shell artifacts, a material that had to be imported and would have been expensive, between elite and commoner households. Although elites may have been better able to obtain high-quality ornaments made from these materials, they were not restricted to the elite, and a large portion of shell and greenstone materials seems to have circulated in an undifferentiated exchange system that was available to anyone. Taken together with the presence in relatively poor households of high-value objects such as polychrome ceramics and Central Mexican obsidian, it is clear that none of the high-value artifact categories considered for this research were formally or functionally restricted to the elite. This is consistent with the model of economies that are largely based on market exchange following the distributional approach: few high-value artifacts are expected to be exclusive to the elite in such systems (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155; Hirth 1998; Hutson 2021; Shaw 2012, 120– 21). Both the distribution of utilitarian artifacts and of high-value ornaments and exotic materials are therefore consistent with models of market exchange based on the distributional approach, suggesting that the distribution of artifacts in Uxul was largely based on market exchange.

While the variations for these categories of high-value ceramics and obsidian deviate from the homogeneous distribution expected in a market economy, they do not invalidate the market exchange model. Indeed, if their distribution had been the result of different modes of exchange, such as redistribution or mobilization, they would be expected to replicate socio-economic hierarchies and be strongly correlated to wealth (Hirth 1998, 455). In this case, however, it seems that variation is due to the resources not being equally desirable for everyone, for a number of possible reasons that are not related to socio-economic status, resulting in more heterogeneous distributions than found for utilitarian artifacts. Only specific types of obsidian artifacts and polychrome ceramics were more likely to be found in wealthy households, but the fact that they were also found in poorer ones indicates that this is not the result of formal restrictions, but more likely due to prohibitive pricing. People along the socioeconomic spectrum clearly had access to these artifact categories if they so desired, but simply chose to obtain them at varying rates.

There are some exceptions to the observed homogeneity of artifact assemblages, however. The homogeneity observed for utilitarian objects does not entirely hold up for all high-value artifacts for which statistical analysis was possible. For some categories, such as polychrome ceramics, certain foreign ceramics, and green obsidian from the Central Mexican Pachuca source, there were higher rates of variation between households (although variation was not much higher than for more local or less high-value objects). However, most of these variations were not explained by differences in wealth. Neither the relative proportions of polychrome ceramics in general, nor the distribution of specific varieties of polychromes, were correlated with household wealth, with the exception of Palmar polychromes (which were

While the distribution of most artifact categories, including both utilitarian and high-value ones, was rarely directly related to socio-economic status, there was one aspect of household assemblages that seems to have systematically related to household wealth: assemblage diversity. Indeed, wealthy households were systematically better able to access multiple styles, sources, and types of artifacts than 300

Discussion of the Ancient Uxul Economy poorer households. There was a strong correlation between wealth and the number of different sources of ceramics present within the household, indicating that wealthy households were better able to obtain foreign (and therefore probably more expensive) ceramics. Furthermore, wealthy households, in particular the palace complex Group K, systematically owned a higher diversity of ceramics of different groups, both simple and polychrome types. They also owned more different vessel forms and were more likely to own vessels that had specialized functions, while poorer households were more likely to own multifunctional vessels. Furthermore, wealthy households were more likely to have owned elaborate and figurative greenstone and shell ornaments and implements, while poorer households were more likely to only own simple beads and fragments. It should be noted that a similar difference in the diversity of obsidian sources was not detected, most probably because the sources were largely undifferentiated by the time they reached the consumers, and there was therefore no advantage in diversifying them. While these correlations on their own were rarely statistically significant, apart from the correlation between household wealth and the number of ceramic sources represented in its assemblage, the fact that this pattern of disparity of diversity is repeated for many different artifact categories is remarkable. Furthermore, although differences between the wealthy category II elite and the less wealthy category III middle class are not as clearly observed, it is of note that palace complex K is systematically the household group (or among the households groups) with the highest levels of diversity of different types of artifacts, while household group Ya’ab, the poorest in our sample of extensively excavated households and the only one belonging to the relatively poor category IV socio-economic class, systematically was among the households with the lowest degree of diversity (except when it came to greenstone and shell artifacts which they produced).

arrived in household assemblages through mechanisms other than market exchange. These are sporadic in nature, however, and would have represented only a small part of the Uxul economy. The first is related to the identification (through its chemical signature) of a unique ceramic source represented by only five polychrome sherds in the chemically tested sample of ceramics. All five of these were found within the palace complex Group K. It seems, then, that only the palace group had access to high-quality polychrome ceramics originating from this source, most likely a foreign source, and that they were not generally available to the population of Uxul. These were not visually distinguished from other polychromes of the same type, however, indicating that their distribution is unlikely to have been the result of a formal restriction of a specific type of polychrome to be used as a sumptuary object or marker of status. Instead, their presence in the palace complex is probably the result of gift-giving between rulers or emissaries of connected urban centers during feasts or ceremonies held at the palace of Uxul, a welldocumented occurrence in Classic Maya royal spheres (Ball 1993; Foias 2002, 233–34; Hendon 2003, 205–7; Hirth 1996, 217; Kovacevich 2013, 270; LeCount 2001, 935; McAnany 2010, 132; Reents-Budet et al. 2000, 111; Rice 2009, 72; Shaw 2012, 135). These high-value foreign ceramics, then, were not part of a generalized market system, but instead arrived at Uxul as part of political strategies relating to foreign alliances. Another foreign type of ceramics that seems to not have been distributed through market exchange is monochrome slipped ceramics from the Becan region, which were only found within the Group M household in Uxul. These are unlikely to have been part of conspicuous consumption strategies, however, as they were not of exceptionally high quality. It is unclear why this type of ceramic was only accessible to the members of household group M, though it is unlikely to have related to wealth since other, wealthier households did not have access to it. It is clear, however, that these foreign ceramics were not part of the generalized market exchange system of Uxul, and were instead obtained through other, unknown, exchange mechanisms, possibly relating to personal connections or a specific social identity of the household group.

Thus, although the distribution of almost none of the individual goods and artifact categories considered here can be linked directly to differences of wealth, wealth clearly allowed households to diversify their possessions. The relationship between household wealth and the diversity of their assemblages shows that, while everyone was able to access the same resources and obtain a range of different goods, wealthier households, as expected, had more economic choices available to them. As discussed before, a high degree of diversity of goods in a household assemblage is linked to higher levels of quality of life, and reflects the ability of wealthy people to pursue and realize various goals (Smith 2015, 4, 2016, 58–59; Stark et al. 2016).

Finally, the distribution pattern of obsidian sources in household group M seems to have been related to processes other than market exchange. Here, the sources represented in the obsidian assemblage show an overrepresentation of sources that were more widely in use during earlier periods, but not as prominent anymore during the Late Classic. This is explained by the inhabitants of Group M having used old architecture and refuse deposits as quarries, reusing older materials contained in them. This resulted in an overrepresentation of both obsidian in general and of older obsidian materials (Braswell 2013, 165–66). Group M thus had access to an exclusive source of obsidian outside of market exchange, which was not accessible to anyone else, and was instead related to land tenure. The ownership of this land was most likely related

Above, I have presented the distributions of the artifact categories that conform to models of market exchange, and the distributions of which are not directly related to wealth (except in specific cases, where the distribution relating to wealth can be attributed to prohibitive pricing rather than to non-market exchange processes). There are, however, some artifacts that can be identified to have 301

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands to lineages, thus providing exclusive additional resources that the Late Classic inhabitants of the household were able to exploit for profit through processes of ancestral economy (see McAnany 1995, 2010).

high value and elaborate artifacts and a high diversity of goods, they had no control over the distribution of goods and resources among the population of Uxul. The high levels of integration and homogeneity of the assemblages of households in different parts of the site indicate that the economy of Uxul was largely based on a single central marketplace, where the bulk of goods and resources were commercially available, that everyone had access to, and where economic transactions were free.

Apart from these few examples of objects that were obtained through exchange and exploitation strategies outside of market exchange processes, the distribution of almost all goods and resources considered here can be explained by market processes. Households of different levels of wealth, and located both centrally and on the peripheries of Uxul were able to obtain almost all types of goods and resources in similar relative amounts. As a result, households along the socio-economic spectrum had access to a high diversity of goods and resources without formal restrictions. The assemblages of these households are remarkably homogeneous in their proportions of both utilitarian artifacts and high-value prestige objects. Very few resources were correlated to wealth, but these were almost never formally restricted to the elite, and their differential distribution is more likely to have been related to high prices rather than elite control. Further variation in assemblages for specific artifact categories is related to household specialization or preference, but not to wealth or status. Very few resources were formally restricted to specific elites, reflecting unique economic strategies relating to special foreign connections and alliances, as well as the exploitation of ancestral land. These characteristics all conform to models of market exchange based on the distributional approach: markets lead to homogeneity of artifact assemblages between households of all ranks, with high levels of diversity, and few resources that are exclusive to an elite class (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 240; Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155; Hirth 1998; Hutson 2021; Shaw 2012, 120). Thus, by far the majority of household consumption patterns at Uxul correspond to the result of market exchange processes. It seems that at Uxul market exchange was responsible for the vast majority of economic transactions, with only a very few specific resources being obtained through different mechanisms playing a very minor role in the Uxul economy.

7.5. Production and specialization Household production, as in most ancient Maya societies (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 243; Golitko and Feinman 2015, 239; Kovacevich 2013, 257), seems to have been one of the main drivers of Uxul’s economic system. Besides small-scale ad hoc domestic production for household consumption, such as the production of simple chert tools and food production, many of the inhabitants of Uxul were involved in more specialized production activities intended for exchange with others. Group Ma’ax 1 during the Early and/or Late Classic period produced large numbers of thin-walled cylindrical clay earspools. Group Ak’ seems to have been involved in providing ceremonial services in a semi-public setting to the people living nearby. Inhabitants of Group G produced paper, though it is unclear at what scale. The inhabitants of the household group Ya’ab 5 were involved in the specialized production of both shell and greenstone artifacts. Obsidian artifacts were produced in most households on a small scale, as evidenced by the presence of cortex and production debris. At the Ya’ab household obsidian working was somewhat more intensive than elsewhere, a productive activity that was probably related to the making of tools relating to greenstone and shell processing, rather than to a specialization in obsidian artifact production itself. Household groups K, Kulte’, M, Ma’ax, O, Q, Wech, and Ya’ab were all involved in textile production, though the scales at which they were may have varied. Finally, the ruling elite living in the palace complex provided public ceremonial services and were most likely involved in providing administrative and organizational services for the city as a whole. Many other types of specialized production may have taken place at the different households of Uxul, but were not identified here, either because they are not visible archaeologically, because of excavation biases, because we don’t know enough about them to be able to detect them from artifact patterns, or because they involved artifact categories that were not thoroughly investigated in this book.

All households of Uxul, regardless of socio-economic status and location at the site, were well integrated into a single market exchange sphere, where they seem to have been able to obtain all types of artifacts regardless of their status or social identity. The main difference observed between households of different levels of wealth was assemblage diversity, with wealthier households having had greater economic choice than poorer households. However, all households were able to access the same goods and resources if they wanted or needed to and could afford them. It is possible that elites were involved in the organization of long-distance exchange, and they may have overseen market processes (through mechanisms such as planning, administration, infrastructure, taxation, etc.), but the economic transactions themselves were freely accessible to everyone. The elite at Uxul did not have a high level of control over the economy, and while they were able to use their wealth to obtain larger quantities of

Specialized household production activities did not all take place at the same scales, levels of specialization, or in the same configuration. Some of these activities were unique (or nearly) to one of the households, while others were more common. Some required great skill and knowledge, and much time, while others would have been much easier and less time-consuming to perform. Some involved exotic and expensive materials, while others were performed using easily obtainable local resources. 302

Discussion of the Ancient Uxul Economy Textile production was a widely performed activity, usually by women (Beaudry-Corbett and McCafferty 2002, 52; Brumfiel and Robin 2008, 6; Chase et al. 2008; Hendon 2006; McCafferty and McCafferty 1994). Several of the extensively excavated households at Uxul showed clear evidence for the small-scale production of textiles, though not all of them did. Textile was an important resource in ancient Maya societies, related to both social identity (clothing was used to signal personal identity and social status) and to economic processes (it may have been used for payments of tribute, as media of exchange, and possibly even as currency) (Chase et al. 2008, 130), and the specialized creation of intricate textiles would have been a lucrative and economically important activity. In Uxul, women living in households along the socio-economic spectrum participated in the production of textiles. This is contrary to a pattern that is often observed in Maya urban centers, where evidence for textile production is typically concentrated in elite households (Brumfiel 2006, 863; Brumfiel and Robin 2008, 6; Chase et al. 2008, 138; McAnany and Plank 2001, 95). Women belonging to both poor and wealthy classes of Uxul participated in this economically important craft activity, indicating that they played a crucial role in economic processes, and would have had economic agency through the production of important exchange media.

all of which were among the very wealthy, were part-time specialists in the production of specific types of textiles either related to their own social identity, or for market exchange. The scarce evidence for textile production in Uxul doesn’t allow for a full analysis of the degree of specialization or of how much surplus was created for market exchange. Another production activity that was not unique to a single household, but also not very common at the site, was paper production. Evidence for this type of craft production was found in the context of household groups Ak’, K, and G. The scarcity of bark beaters in the archaeological record, however, does not allow for in-depth analysis or comparison of the degree of specialization or the rarity of this craft production. However, it should be noted that groups K and Ak’ were the two largest and wealthiest groups at the site. The palace complex was most probably involved in public administrative and ceremonial duties, activities for which paper was most likely needed for record-keeping, iconographic representations, as well as symbolical use in specific ceremonies. Group Ak’, based on both its layout with a more public and a more private area, as well as the large number of ritual artifacts found there, may have had a role in the local performance of semi-public ceremonial performances for the people living close to it. This means that they may also have needed paper for administrative and ceremonial purposes, in the same way as the royal members of the palace complex did. The presence of paper production in the households of the very highest elites of Uxul may therefore have been related to their role in the community. However, the only other household where evidence of paper production was found was the relatively wealthy but not very rich middle class category III household group G, indicating that not only the highest elite was involved in the production of paper. It is possible, however, that paper produced by the members of Group G was not aimed at the same goals as that made by the high elite. Paper in Maya society was also used for certain types of clothing and ornaments, for example (Foster 2002, 318), which the members of Group G may have produced, possibly as surplus goods to be exchanged with members outside the household. The lack of sufficient evidence makes it difficult, however, to ascertain how unique the production of paper was in Uxul society, and therefore to study to what degree surplus production for market exchange was performed vs. production for household consumption. However, it is clear that the members of households of varying levels of wealth were involved in this activity, though possibly for different goals.

While it is likely that most of the households where indications for textile production were found mainly produced for household use, in some cases, evidence for this craft production was more abundant, pointing at a possible specialization of larger quantities and/or specific types of textiles for exchange outside the household. In the palace complex Group K, more spindle whorls were found than anywhere else, indicating that its inhabitants may have been involved in the creation of larger amounts of textiles, most probably high-quality and elaborate for use by the royal elite themselves. Textiles and clothing would have been especially important identity markers for the Maya royal elite, both in everyday life and as special clothing for special occasions, meaning that specialization in the production of specific textiles would have been particularly important for the women of the royal palace, more so than for any other household. Household group Ma’ax, which was relatively, but not extremely, wealthy (and belonged to the possible middle class of Uxul) also showed some evidence of specialization in textile production, with three of the less common types of spindle whorls found there. This may indicate that the inhabitants of this group specialized, to a degree, in the manufacture of a surplus of specific types of thread and textiles for exchange with members of other households. Group Ya’ab as well showed possible evidence for specialization in textile production, although this is only indicated by the overrepresentation of perforated ceramic sherds, which may or may not have been used as spindle whorls, meaning that this possibility cannot be confirmed. Still, the evidence for textile production shows that while most households probably produced their own textiles on a small scale, specific members of some households, not

Other household-based production activities seem to have been more exclusive, specialized, and geared towards surplus and exchange with others. While it is impossible to determine whether a specialized activity was truly unique to one of the households of Uxul, since not all of them were the subject of extensive excavation, any activity that was only clearly identified at one location was at least uncommon at the site, and indicates that the household in 303

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands question probably provided a large part of the specialized product to the rest of the settlement. This is the case for specialized activities such as the production of thin-walled cylindrical clay earspools, shell artifacts, and greenstone artifacts.

production in the Ya’ab 5 household was also associated with the processing of greenstone materials. This is unusual in the Maya Lowlands, as most of the processing of greenstone was performed near the source in the Guatemalan Highlands. Producers in Uxul, however, were able to obtain either raw materials or preforms to be further processed locally. As with the shell materials, this most likely reflects the presence of part-time specialists who were able to produce a surplus for market exchange. Indeed, while greenstone tended to be concentrated in elite consumer contexts, greenstone beads, fragments, and ornaments were also found in non-elite and consumer contexts corresponding to economic classes other than the very wealthy. While some of the processing, as well as the provision of raw materials, may have been overseen and commissioned by an elite, it is clear that these producers were also able to independently use these raw materials for the small-scale production of objects for market exchange.

Thin-walled flared earspools were relatively rare at Uxul, with only five isolated fragments being found outside of the Ma’ax 1 household group where they were made. Clear evidence for the production of these ornaments was found in group Ma’ax, however, as well as relatively large numbers of the earspools themselves, suggesting that this household was responsible for their distribution at the site. This clearly indicates that members of the Ma’ax household group were partially specialized in the production of these ear ornaments, producing large amounts of surplus for exchange with people outside of the household. It should be noted that although it is possible that this activity was accompanied by the production of other types of ceramic artifacts and vessels, no clear evidence for this was found. How much time, effort, and knowledge they required for this activity, as well as how much they produced and where they obtained their resources is unclear, as little is known about Maya ceramic production, let alone the specialized production of these ornaments. Furthermore, it is unknown what proportion of the ornaments they made were produced on commission, although it is likely that at least some were made with standardized molding patterns, and independently. This also means that it is unclear to what degree these producers were specialized, although there is no doubt that this activity reflects a specialized surplus production for market exchange.

It should be noted that the shell and greenstone workshops in Ya’ab were located within the same area of the Ya’ab 5 patio. They overlapped, and may in fact have formed a single workshop that produced multiple products. This is evidence of the phenomenon of multicrafting (Callaghan and Kovacevich 2020, 544–45). It has become clear in recent years that domestic multicrafting, whereby different members of the household produced multiple types of artifacts, was a common strategy throughout Mesoamerica (Callaghan and Kovacevich 2020, 544–45). The presence of this dual workshop in Ya’ab demonstrates that, in Uxul, multicrafting not only concerned the production of many different types of subsistence goods for household consumption (such as food, chert tools, textiles, etc.), sometimes combined with one specialized productive activity, but could also be applied to multiple specialized activities within one space. Whether the same people with a dual specialization were responsible for the crafting of shell and greenstone ornaments at the Ya’ab workshop, or whether these craft productions were performed by different members of the household, each specialized in the processing of one material, is unknown, however. A more in-depth analysis of the patterning of debris related to these craft production activities may reveal their spatial organization, and therefore a better understanding of the phenomenon of multicrafting in this dual-purpose workshop.

Shell artifacts and ornaments of varying quality were found throughout Uxul, but their production seems to have been concentrated in a workshop in the Ya’ab 5 household group. This was the only place where the production of these objects was confirmed. The producers here seem to have been part-time specialists at least, with the working of shell into elaborate ornaments involving a lot of time and knowledge. Furthermore, producers here were able to obtain large amounts of raw materials for their craft, most of which had to be imported from coastal regions. While it is unknown what proportion of this production was done on commission, at least part of the production was likely undertaken independently. The fact that shell artifacts were found at consumer households of all ranks also suggests that production was not only the result of attached or commissioned production for elites, and that these producers had the ability to use certain amounts of the raw materials for independent production aimed at market exchange. Although the elite may have been involved in obtaining the long-distance exchange materials (though while this is often assumed for Classic Maya long-distance exchange, it remains unproven for Uxul, see 7.6 Uxul in the wider economic network), producers were at least to an extent independent in their craft.

While much is unknown about the exact configurations, degrees of specialization, degree of monopoly, and degrees of independence of the part-time specialists producing these ornamental and symbolically charged artifacts, it is clear that their craft was at least partially independent, specialized, and not widely practiced in Uxul. The crafting of elaborate and high-value ornaments and artifacts, such as made in the earspool, greenstone, and shell workshops of Uxul, was in ancient Maya society most often performed by elites (Shaw 2012, 135). In Uxul however, none of these typically elite craft production activities were found in high elite contexts, with the clay earspool production taking place in a relatively wealthy middle class category

Similar observations can be made about greenstone processing. The workshop responsible for shell artifact 304

Discussion of the Ancient Uxul Economy III household, and the production of shell and greenstone artifacts in a relatively poor category IV household. The monopoly of elites over the production of high-value ornamental and symbolic artifacts that is often assumed for Classic Maya society is not replicated in Uxul, where non-elite producers clearly had an important role in this type of craft production.

(Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018, 457; Wells 2006, 283). This has been demonstrated, for example, in Cancuen for the production of jade ornaments (Andrieu and Forné 2010, 948; Melgar Tísoc and Andrieu 2016, 1066). In Uxul, however, this does not seem to have been the case. Indeed, for each of the high-value ornament production workshops identified here (clay earspools, greenstone artifacts, and shell artifacts), the final stages of production were identified at the location in question, indicating that these producers performed the entire production sequence independently. Indeed, finished earspools were found in Ma’ax, and an earspool polisher used for the final production step of greenstone earspool fabrication, as wells as completed shell ornaments were found in Ya’ab. Furthermore, no evidence of additional production steps for these craft production activities was found anywhere in more elite contexts. Thus, there is no evidence for multistage production strategies as a way for Uxul’s elites to maintain control over the production processes of highvalue ornaments. While it is unknown to what degree elites may have been involved in the organization of the production of high value and exotic ornamental and symbolically charged artifacts through control of resources or commissioning, it is clear that non-elite producers had a measure of independence that allowed them agency in the production process, and profit from surplus production for market exchange.

However, in cases where commoners participated in the production of high-value artifacts, it is often argued that they were not entirely independent, and instead corresponded to attached manufacturers, placing production under direct elite control (Aoyama 2007, 3–4; Inomata 2001b). It is becoming clear that the clear dichotomy between attached and independent specialists, however, does not always hold up for ancient Maya society, and has to be nuanced (Kovacevich 2013, 257; Rochette 2014; Wells 2006, 283). In the case of Uxul, it is clear from the presence of greenstone and shell artifacts in households at all socio-economic levels that greenstone was not reserved for the highest elite only. This means that not all artifacts produced by the non-elite workshops were made on commission for the elite, and that at least a part of the products of these high-value materials could be used independently by the producers to be exchanged with members of other households. Although it is possible that elites were involved in the supply of high-value materials for the production of ornaments, and may have commissioned specific pieces from the non-elite specialists, it is clear that the non-elite producers would have profited personally by creating small and relatively simple objects for market exchange (Kovacevich 2007; Wells 2006, 284). Furthermore, if these producers were truly attached producers, they would be expected to have been located close to the elites to whom they were attached, presumably the center of power at the palace complex K. However, none of these specialists were located particularly close to the rulers of Uxul. Group Ma’ax, while not located very far from the palace, at approximately 8 minutes walking time from palace K, was located on the opposite side of the central neighborhood. Group Ya’ab was even more clearly removed from the palace complex, at approximately 15 minutes walking time and located in the clearly separated northern neighborhood. While it is possible that control over production was performed at a distance, neither of these producing households were located in a place one would expect for specialists that are under the direct control of the ruling elite. It is also possible that these producers were attached to other elites more closely connected to them, such as the highest elite of their neighborhood, but the lack of power of the elites that was detected in these neighborhoods makes this unlikely.

Ceremonial services are another form of household specialization that was detected in Uxul. While all households showed evidence of the performance of small-scale, private household rituals, some seem to have specialized in the performance of semi-public ceremonial services within the context of the household for people that were not a part of it. Overrepresentations of ceremonial artifacts were found in both the palace complex K and the elite group Ak’. However, the implications of these overrepresentations are probably not the same depending on their context. In the palace complex, the overrepresentation of ceramic figurines, musical instruments, and incense burners is most likely the result of court ceremonies meant for members of the palace, high local elites, and foreign dignitaries visiting the city. Such events, in conjunction with feasts, would have served to forge connections and alliances, as well as to reinforce the legitimation of the rulers as links to the supernatural world and as spiritual leaders (following Plunket 2002, 5). So while these household-based services would not have been exactly private, they were very restricted and would have been related more to supporting the political power of the rulers of Uxul, rather than being performed as a productive service for other members of the city (though the two are of course not mutually exclusive). More public ceremonial services would have been performed in the public ceremonial centers closely connected to the palace complex, but not included within the palace household. In group Ak’, on the other hand, the overrepresentation of musical instruments in conjunction with the presence of a pyramidal ceremonial structure in a more publicly accessible part of the household

Another way in which non-elite specialists are sometimes dependent on elites is through segmented or multi-stage manufacturing strategies, in which commoner producers were only involved in part of the production process, usually the earlier and less intricate stages, while elites would typically have finished the production process, involving more delicate work and esoteric knowledge 305

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands indicates a different kind of ceremonial service. Indeed, both these features are associated with the performance of ceremonial services for larger audiences. This may indicate that semi-public ceremonial performances were performed here in the context of the household for the inhabitants of households surrounding the Ak’ group, for example, for other members of the neighborhood. In this case, while such performances would also have been a way to reinforce and legitimate the power of the Ak’ household group, and unlike ceremonies performed in the palace complex K, the primary goal of such performances would have been to provide a service for the public. Such a service provided by members of the Ak’ household, then, can be seen as a product provided by part-time specialists in exchange for other goods, resources, or services (or even in the form of taxation) for people from outside the household. It should be noted that evidence for this type of specialized activity was only found in the households of the highest elite of Uxul, indicating that specialization in semi-public ceremonial performances, unlike other productive activities, was restricted to the highest elite of Uxul. Such activities would have involved a high degree of esoteric knowledge, as well as a specific social identity, and were therefore easily restricted by the elite, excluding other members of society from the performance of such public services. Not all members of the elites seem to have been involved in providing such semi-public services, however, as no clear evidence of them was found in other elite residences, even when they did include large ceremonial structures.

The organization of household production at Uxul reflects the economic system in place. Uxul’s households were economically independent in some respects, including the bulk of food production, the performance of simple household rituals, simple textile production, and the production of simple chert tools. However, some goods, resources, and services clearly had to be provided by experts. Part-time specialists provided the inhabitants of Uxul with specific types of goods for which production was complicated and time-consuming. Specialized craft production was performed largely independently by members of households along the socio-economic spectrum, and most seem not to have been restricted to a specific layer of society. Instead, categories of socioeconomic status and part-time specialism seem to have been intersectional and not directly related to each other. Even the production of artifacts made from expensive and exotic materials (unlike what is often seen in Classic Maya urban workshops (see for example Aoyama 2007, 3–4; Inomata 2001b; Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018, 457; Wells 2006, 283)) was not clearly subjected to any kind of direct elite control. The only indication of direct elite control over production was observed in the performance of semi-public ceremonial services, which would have been related to both socio-economic identity and a perceived link to the supernatural world. Most specialized household production in Uxul seems to have been performed independently and freely for profit through market exchange. It should be noted that it is unclear whether every household in Uxul was able to profit from a parttime specialization, as such activities were not identified in every household, and many specialized activities may not be detectable in the archaeological record, but it is clear that many did specialize in some type of production. The presence of these independent part-time specialists, responsible for the production of a range of different types of both utilitarian and prestige products, is very much consistent with the presence of a market exchange system capable of providing the provisioning and distribution systems required for obtaining raw materials and selling finished products (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 176–77; Hirth 1998, 453).

Overall, several different types of specialized production, with different types of organizational structures and economic functions were identified in Uxul. The production of textiles and paper was performed by several households on different scales, with some producing mainly for household use, and others likely being more specialized in the production of specific types of products for exchange with people outside the household sphere. The production of high-value ornaments, on the other hand, was performed by a small number of non-elite specialists. Part-time specialists producing clay earspools, greenstone artifacts, and shell ornaments most likely did so largely independently and for-profit through market exchange. Although some of the expensive and exotic resources involved may have been controlled by the elite, and part of the production may have been on commission for this elite, the elite of Uxul do not seem to have been highly involved in these types of craft production. The only type of householdbased production that was found to have a clear link to elite households was the performance of semi-public ceremonial services. Although not much is known about these services provided by members of the very wealthiest of households, it seems that at least some had a role in providing their community with ceremonies, and acted as a link between the general population and the supernatural sphere. The provision of such services seems to have been restricted to specific elites, and was not open to people with different social identities.

7.6. Uxul in the wider economic network It is clear from the imported artifacts recovered at Uxul, that the city was well integrated into the larger economic network of the region. This is especially clear when considering the data relating to the different sources of obsidian represented at the site. Indeed, the proportions of the sources of obsidian represented at Uxul correspond to the expected composition of obsidian source assemblages represented in the Central Maya Lowlands during the Late Classic period, as determined by Golitko and colleagues (Golitko et al. 2012). Late Classic Uxul, like most sites in the regions, relied mostly on the El Chayal source in the Guatemalan Highlands for its obsidian, with lesser amounts originating from other Highland sources as well as Central Mexican ones. Network analysis based on the obsidian sources represented at different sites shows that 306

Discussion of the Ancient Uxul Economy Uxul was well connected to the obsidian exchange sphere in the Central Maya Lowlands, and with good links to the East Coast, Belize, and Northwestern Lowland sites. Uxul was a central point in the obsidian exchange network of the Central Maya Lowlands, and was well integrated into the obsidian exchange sphere of the wider Maya area.

long-distance trade network, and was able to develop and profit from these networks without having to surrender a part of its products and profits to Calakmul. Uxul retaining economic control over the obsidian trade would explain the disparity in the quantities of obsidian available at the two nearby sites. Instead, Calakmul may have invested mainly in the political control over Uxul, profiting from its trading position as a means of expanding its sphere of influence and maintaining contacts with other important centers (such as La Corona), but without directly profiting economically from the trade. This would be consistent with the political organization of Uxul based on wealth distribution, consumption patterns, and the organization of specialized production, all of which suggests that while the elite of Uxul may have had some form of control over the economy, this control was most likely indirect in nature, rather than based on monopolies and exclusive control of resources. In Uxul, political power was not the same as economic power, and people at all levels of society had economic agency. It is likely that this model mirrored the wider political organization of the Calakmul political sphere, with Calakmul controlling and profiting from the regional trade routes to a certain extent, but with Uxul retaining some of its economic independence and agency.

With regard to obsidian exchange, Uxul seems to have played a unique role in the wider region. Uxul had access to particularly high proportions of Central Mexican obsidian as compared to the rest of the Maya region. Only in northern Guatemalan sites, south of Uxul, were proportions of Central Mexican obsidian somewhat higher than in the rest of the Maya area, but even there, with the exception of the site of Tikal, they did not reach the quantities found in Uxul. This means that Uxul may have been an important node in the obsidian exchange network of the region: large quantities of obsidian, in particular from Central Mexican sources, arrived here and may have been redistributed throughout the region. Uxul is located in an area where important inland transport routes met, which were intensively used during the Classic period (Golitko et al. 2012, 511; Golitko and Feinman 2015, 224), and it may have played an important role in their organization and the distribution of long-distance trade goods. In particular, Uxul may have played an important role in the trade routes between Calakmul and La Corona. The role of Uxul in the long-distance trade network may help explain its rapid growth during the Classic period, as well as the investment by the political center of Calakmul in building and maintaining influence over this vital trade network node, as a strategy for maintaining economic power over the region.

Another artifact category that provides information about the place of Uxul in the wider economic network is greenstone. This material had to be imported from the Guatemalan Highlands, some 320 km away from Uxul and was a valuable commodity throughout the Maya area. The presence of a greenstone workshop in the Ya’ab household group in Uxul shows that its inhabitants did not exclusively import finished greenstone products, but also raw or partially processed materials to be finished locally. While the entire production chain is not known for this workshop, in the absence of an excavated refuse deposit associated with it, it is clear that the final steps of greenstone ear ornament production happened here. At the site of Cancuen a workshop was found where raw greenstone materials were processed and made into preforms of ornaments, some of which seem to have been exported to be finished elsewhere (Andrieu and Forné 2010; Andrieu, Rodas, and Luin 2014; Melgar Tísoc and Andrieu 2016, 1066). It is possible, or even likely, in the absence of large quantities of raw greenstone material found in Uxul, that Uxul imported such preforms from Cancuen or a similar site. However, Uxul did not just import preforms but also raw materials at an earlier stage of processing. Both Cancuen and Uxul were under the political rule of Calakmul during the Late Classic period (Andrieu and Forné 2010, 950; Martin and Grube 2008), and it is therefore likely that they would have participated in the same long-distance economic trade network. It is possible that the workshops at both Uxul and Cancuen were part of the same economic strategy for long-distance trade, and the distribution of greenstone in particular, throughout the region. Whether or not some of the greenstone processed at Uxul came directly through Cancuen, it is clear that Uxul had access not only to finished products, but also to raw materials, and thus had a level of control over the import and

However, although Uxul was under the direct political control of Calakmul, there were significant differences in their access to long-distance trade such as the obsidian trade. Obsidian in general arrived at Uxul in much larger quantities than it did at nearby Calakmul, even though Calakmul dominated the region and is thought to have controlled the region’s long-distance trade routes. This can be explained in several ways. The first is that although Calakmul may have dominated the regional trade routes, it did not seek to profit from all the resources they provided. If obsidian was not a particularly coveted resource in Calakmul, for example, because its functions were largely replaced by the use of flint and other materials, its inhabitants may not have actively aimed to obtain it in large quantities, leading to low demand for obsidian in the city. In this case, while Calakmul may have profited from the long-distance trade of obsidian it controlled, the material itself would not be highly represented at the site. However, the wide distribution of obsidian, its unique characteristics, and the high demand for this highvalue material throughout the Maya region make the hypothesis for a low demand for the resource in Calakmul unlikely. It is also possible, however, that the dominance of Calakmul over Uxul and the region was more political in nature than economic. Indeed, it is possible that Uxul was largely independent from Calakmul with regard to the 307

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands processing of materials. Raw greenstone materials were not easily obtained in the Maya Lowlands as almost all of it was processed near its point of origin in the Guatemalan Highlands, and the one at Cancuen is the only other known workshop where raw greenstone materials are known to have been imported to the Lowlands. Although the quantities of raw materials imported into Uxul were much smaller, it is clear that Uxul was well integrated into and connected to the long-distance exchange network, and was able to obtain rare materials that did not find their way to many other sites in the region.

a level of control not only over the goods that were traded locally, but also over trading processes in distant places. They were able to have traders transport their desired raw materials over long distances, even though this would have been costlier to do. Traders would have little incentive to transport raw materials over long distances unless there was an explicit demand for it at the place of sale. Uxul was able to influence the organization of the long-distance trade network, by means of either the simple creation of explicit market demands, or of control over its own long-distance traders. This influence is emphasized by the important role Uxul seems to have played in the regional obsidian trade, where it seems to have played a role in the distribution of Central Mexican obsidian in particular. It is possible that Uxul had a special trading link (direct or indirect) to Central Mexican obsidian providers, contributing to the import to, and subsequent redistribution of the materials over the region. Thus, Uxul seems to not only have been well integrated into the long-distance trade network, it also formed an important and central node in it, providing the region with important resources and influencing demand, supply, and exchange processes.

The only other two types of artifacts considered in this research that provide clues to the role of Uxul in longdistance exchange are foreign ceramics and marine shells. Although not much is known about the exact origins of these materials, they are known not to have originated from Uxul but had to be imported. There are a few (although not many) types of ceramics that are known to have been imported to Uxul, including polychrome and utilitarian styles. Sayan ceramics came from the Río Bec or Chenes regions to the north, and Becanchen ceramics were imported from the Becan region, all of which were over 100 km away. Some polychromes were found to have been imported on the basis of their chemical composition, though it is not known from where. While most of the ceramics tested chemically at Uxul were found to have been local in origin, not all of them were. So Uxul clearly had access to the regional exchange sphere of ceramics, both high-quality (some of which likely arrived in Uxul through elite gift-giving and diplomatic exchange) and utilitarian ceramics (most of which were most probably distributed through market exchange).

The important trading role of Uxul in the region may have contributed to its rapid growth during the Classic period, and contributed to its importance to the rulers of Calakmul. However, despite its position under the political influence of Calakmul, Uxul seems to have retained a measure of independence regarding its economic and trade position. The inhabitants of Uxul were able to profit personally from the products of long-distance trade (as evidenced by the workshops related to marine shell and greenstone in particular) and retain them, without having to surrender large amounts of them to their political overlord (as evidenced by the significant disparity of the amounts of obsidian present in Uxul vs. Calakmul). The apparent high level of economic independence of Uxul from its political ruler may not have been entirely unique within the Maya Lowlands. Indeed, recent research in the Usumacinta River Valley shows that, while hinterland sites were critical allies and must have provided goods and services to regional royal courts, they were also centers of production in their own right, pursued their own ambitions, and sought local economic benefits that were not geared towards the best interest of the regional powers (Golden et al. 2020). Similar to the case of Uxul and Calakmul, the exchange networks of subordinate centers did not always intersect with those of the dynastic center, and subordinate sites maintained a level of economic independence from their political rulers (Golden et al. 2020). Additionally, this is consistent with long-distance trade routes in the Maya Lowlands being largely maintained even in periods of profound political change (Shaw 2012, 126–128), suggesting that trade in the area was, at least to a degree, organized independently from politics, and that regional political power may not always have been based in the control of regional economy and long-distance trade alone. Although Calakmul may have profited in other ways from the advantageous trading position of their vassal, Uxul seems to have retained a

Marine shells were imported into Uxul from the coasts at least 180 km away. At least some of the marine shell materials came into Uxul in a raw state, to be further processed in the workshop identified in the Ya’ab household group. So, much like was the case for greenstone, Uxul did not only have access to finished shell products, but also to raw materials, indicating that its inhabitants had a level of control over the import and processing of the material. They were able to obtain raw materials, which were costlier to transport than processed artifacts, from distant places, showing again that Uxul was well integrated into and connected with the long-distance exchange network. Although not much is known about the way long-distance exchange networks in the Maya Lowlands operated, and the primary goals of this research were not to study Uxul’s role in them, the foreign artifacts found provide many clues about the subject. It is clear that Uxul had ample access to several types of foreign resources, and was very well integrated into the regional exchange network. Not only did its inhabitants have access to a range of products that were imported in a finished state, meaning that Uxul would have had little control over their production or characteristics besides creating a demand for specific types of artifacts, they were also able to obtain raw materials from distant sources. This means that they had 308

Discussion of the Ancient Uxul Economy high level of economic independence as an important node in the long-distance trading network.

be concentrated in the city core, and peripheral elites had easier access to the sacbeob (facilitating their connection to the core), as well as to public services and spaces, and had high degrees of social integration (Folan et al. 2009, 68). In Uxul no such systematic patterns were found with regard to elite household location. Uxul is not entirely alone in this, however, as the results of spatial analysis resemble those obtained at Tikal, where no correlations between household rank and social integration nor proximity to the city core, ceremonial complexes, or water sources were found either (Arnold and Ford 1980, 722–24). Again, the number of sites where this type of spatial analysis was performed is still too low to be able to determine common patterns or regional differences. Still, while the lack of systematic patterns for the locations of elite households within the city seen in Uxul seems uncommon, it is not unique in the Maya Lowlands.

7.7. Uxul in a comparative perspective Although the main goal of the present research was not to analyze the economy of Uxul in a comparative perspective, small-scale comparisons of specific features give insight into the way Uxul resembled and differed from other Maya sites. It should be noted that this is in no way an exhaustive comparison of the data gathered at Uxul with that from other Classic Maya sites, and serves merely as an illustration of how Uxul may have differed from or conformed to patterns frequently seen in ancient urban Maya societies. First of all, the degree of wealth inequality as measured by construction volume in Uxul is very similar to that of other Classic Maya Lowland sites, such as Caracol (Chase 2017) and Chunchucmil (Hutson 2016), with similar Lorenz curves. Furthermore, the possible presence of a middle class detected at Uxul may have been equivalent to the one identified at Late Classic Caracol (Chase and Chase 1996a). Thus, the type of wealth inequality seen for Late Classic Uxul was not unique in the Maya area. However, because the actual numbers could not be compared directly with those of other sites, it is difficult to state to what degree these apparent similarities are valid with regard to stratification and distribution. Furthermore, there are only a limited number of Classic Maya sites where this type of analysis has been performed, meaning that any analysis of what the wealth distribution of a “typical” urban center looked like is not yet possible. It is clear, however, that it was not universal, as the wealth distribution at Late Classic Sayil, for example, seems to have been much more unequal (Brown et al. 2012). So while the wealth inequality seen at Uxul seems not to have been uncommon, it is unknown to what degree it was usual.

The organization of household production at Uxul seems to conform largely to what is known from other Classic Maya sites. Households were economically independent to a degree, with regard to the production of much of their food as well as simple tools (Andrieu 2014b; Hendon 1991, 904; Sheets 2000, 224; Smith 1987, 309–10; Triadan 2000), but many of them were also involved in part-time specialized craft production (Andrieu 2013, 22; Costin 2007, 150; D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 245; Hirth 2009, 21–22; Inomata and Triadan 2000, 62–63; Webster, Freter, and Gonlin 2000, 87–93). This corresponds directly to patterns of production seen in Uxul: all households seem to have been involved in ad hoc production of products for household use such as simple chert tools and possibly textiles, but many of them were involved in more unique specialized production for exchange outside the household, including greenstone processing, production of shell ornaments, clay earspools, specialized textiles, and paper, and the performance of ceremonial services. Like in some other Classic Maya urban contexts, such as Motul de San José (see Foias and Emery 2012a; Graham 2012), while economic power was largely concentrated in royal and elite contexts, lower-status households had access to a range of productive activities and engaged in independent craft production within the context of the household.

The settlement organization of Uxul seems to have differed from many other Classic Maya cities. Although Uxul shared features with other Maya cities, such as a civic-ceremonial core, clustering around the central palace, organization of the city into neighborhoods, etc., its patterns with regard to elite and commoner household location appear to have been unusual. Indeed, unlike in Uxul, elites in most Maya cities seem to have had systematic advantages when it came to factors such as access to public resources, access to the ruler’s palace, social integration, etc. Although there was a large amount of variation between Maya cities, unlike Uxul most appear to show some types of systematic differences in household location based on socio-economic status. In Copan, elites had easier access to the ceremonial core, elite sites, and seasonal water reservoirs, and showed higher degrees of social integration within the site as a whole and with their socio-economic peers in particular, while commoners lived closer to agricultural fields and local shrines (Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014). At Actuncan elites had better access to secondary ceremonial locations, while commoners had easy access to the aguada (LeCount et al. 2019). At Coba, elites tended to

However, some of the types of craft production identified in Uxul, as well as their organization, were rare in the Maya Lowlands. This is the case in particular for the production of greenstone artifacts, as argued above (see 7.5 Production and specialization). Furthermore, the lack of connection of the elite of Uxul to this craft production is unusual for the Maya area. Indeed, at other Lowlands sites where evidence of greenstone processing was identified (though only the final stages of ornament processing), such as Tikal, Calakmul, La Corona, Naachtun, El Perú-Waká, and Palenque, this was always directly connected to elite and ruler households (Andrieu, Rodas, and Luin 2014, 142; Melgar Tísoc and Andrieu 2016). Elsewhere, as at Cancuen and several Highland sites, where jade processing was sometimes performed in commoner households, it was typically linked to the elite through multistage 309

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands strategies in which commoners produced blanks and elites performed the last stages of processing (Kovacevich and Callaghan 2018, 457; Wells 2006, 283) or through attached manufacture, where commoner producers were under the control of elites who provided resources and commissioned products (Aoyama 2007, 3–4; Inomata 2001b). Although in such cases commoner carvers would most likely have been able to profit personally by creating small artifacts to be traded with non-elite consumers (Kovacevich 2013; Wells 2006, 284), the organization of the craft was still at least partially under elite control. In Uxul, however, no evidence for any type of a direct link between elite consumers and commoner producers was identified.

societies with similar market economies, the low level of elite control over the economy observed at Uxul seems to have been somewhat unusual. Overall, Late Classic Uxul shows many similarities, but also many differences with other Maya cities at the time. The main differences between Uxul and other cities seem to originate from the lack of economic power or control its elite enjoyed. Unlike many other cities, the elite in Uxul had little to no advantages in their access to resources, prestige objects, public infrastructure, or social integration, nor did they have any significant control over production processes or long-distance exchange goods. While control over the economy, prestige goods, and long-distance exchange in particular, is often seen as a major source of power for Maya elites (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 239; Graham 2012; Kovacevich 2007; Wells 2006, 284), this was not reflected in the economy of Uxul. Unlike in other Maya cities, wealth here seems to have had little systematic association with the production and consumption of prestige objects and exotic goods, social integration, access to public resources, or measures of power. This disconnect between political and economic power was not entirely unique to Uxul, however, as a similar pattern was observed at the site of El Palmar, where non-royal elites had clear political power (as evidenced by inscriptions found there), but no systematically advantageous access to wealth in the form of high-quality goods (Tsukamoto 2020). Still, while it is unclear to what extent the political and economic system of Uxul was unusual, the low degree of elite control over the economy and high levels of economic agency and freedom of nonelites was remarkable for Classic Maya cities.

The same goes for other types of high-value ornaments produced by non-elite specialists at Uxul such as shell ornaments and clay earspools. In Aguateca shell ornament production was an elite activity, with the elite having complete control over the resource (Emery and Aoyama 2007). In Tikal, as in Uxul, shell was processed at a commoner household, but unlike Uxul clear distinctions between elite and commoner products suggest that these commoners were attached manufacturers who produced prestige goods on commission (Moholy-Nagy 1997, 308). In Uxul neither the production of shell ornaments nor of clay earspools or of greenstone artifacts showed any evidence of having been clearly differentiated between an elite and a commoner production system, and no clear link between elites and the production of these high-value ornaments was found. There was no indication for elite involvement in the production of any of the high-value production industries identified at Uxul in commoner households, a feature that is unusual for Classic Maya society.

7.8. Chronology and development of the Uxul economy

Although the systematic and detailed analysis of consumption patterns in Maya cities is still relatively recent in nature, Uxul seems to have been similar to many other Classic Maya sites in this regard. Indeed, several Maya cities show artifact distributions that are much more homogeneous than highly centralized distribution systems would entail, including the urban centers of Caracol (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014), Palenque (Barnhart 2005), Motul de San José (Foias and Emery 2012a), El Perú-Waká (Eppich 2020), and Chunchucmil (Dahlin 2009). This suggests that market economies like the one identified in Uxul were not uncommon in the Maya area, although we’re only starting to fully understand how widespread they were (Barnhart 2005, 21; D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 239; Dahlin 2009, 352; Shaw 2012, 138). However, the separation of production and distribution systems between prestige objects controlled by the elite on the one hand, and utilitarian ones on the other that is often observed in Maya cities (Ball 1993; Kovacevich 2013, 270; Moholy-Nagy 1999, 307; Reents-Budet et al. 2000, 111; Shaw 2012, 135) was almost entirely absent in Uxul (with a few minor exceptions). Although consumption patterns indicative of market exchange observed for Late Classic Uxul are largely comparable to other ancient Maya

Because of the mixed nature of many of the excavation contexts considered in this research, many details regarding the chronology and economic development over time in Uxul are obscured. The focus of this research was the Late Classic period, as this was the period for which most data was available with regard to architecture, site development, and dated artifacts. In some cases, however, artifacts couldn’t definitively be dated because they were included in mixed contexts with ceramics dating to different time periods, and no seriation is available for most types of artifacts besides ceramics. While more details about the chronology and development of Uxul may be gained by a more thorough examination of individual find contexts, this was not the primary goal, and was beyond the scope of this research project. However, the analysis of the ceramic assemblages of the extensively excavated households, as well as the analysis of the chronology of households throughout Uxul based on ceramic seriations did enable me to deduce some information about the social, political, and economic development of Uxul. During the Late Preclassic, habitation in Uxul was concentrated mainly in the central zone of the site, with 310

Discussion of the Ancient Uxul Economy a more dispersed occupation of the surrounding mesetas. During this time there was a high degree of variation in the ceramic assemblages of different household groups with regard to the styles and vessel forms they used. Although the distribution of different types of ceramics could not be examined with regard to household wealth (since the distribution of wealth during this time is unknown), it is clear that some types of polychromes were restricted to the palace complex and household group M located next to it and which is likely to have belonged to members of the central elite of the site during this time. While it is not possible to exclude the possibility of the existence of several small marketplaces where households from different parts of the site had access to different assemblages of ceramics, the small size of the settlement, and the fact that even households that were located near each other showed significant variation between their assemblages, make the existence of multiple small-scale market exchange spheres less likely. The concentration of the settlement around the palace complex and civicceremonial center, as well as the presence of restricted high-quality polychromes which were not accessible to most households except for the elite, on the other hand, are consistent with the economic system in place in Uxul at the time being centralized and exclusionary in nature. While this does not mean that market exchange did not exist in Uxul during this time, it suggests that elite control over the economy was relatively strong, and that the elite were able to restrict access to certain high-value goods.

palace complex, the high degree of standardization, and the existence of several types of high-quality goods that were exclusive to the rulers of Uxul during this period of rapid demographic growth suggest that the economy was highly centralized and largely dominated by the ruling class. Although market exchange processes may have accounted for some part of the distribution of goods during this time, a higher diversity across households of different socio-economic status, as well as fewer exclusive resources for the elite, would have been expected following the distributional approach to models of market exchange, if the economy was truly based on largely free market exchange (Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155; Hirth 1998; Hutson 2021; Moholy-Nagy et al. 2013, 87; Shaw 2012, 120). The relatively high degree of control over the economy and standardization of ceramics may have been part of centralized strategies to support and promote the demographic growth of Uxul while maintaining control over and cohesion of the settlement and reinforcing the power of the ruling elite over their growing number of subjects. This growth took place largely before the city became a political subordinate of Calakmul, and when it was still ruled by mostly independent rulers, who seem to have invested in economic control as a way to legitimize and maintain their power over Uxul. At the start of the Late Classic period, however, Uxul came under the rule of Calakmul, and political and economic strategies at the site seem to have shifted. During this time, when the city was at its largest, the diversity of ceramics available increased significantly. This indicates that centrally overseen standardization decreased, and inhabitants of Uxul had access to a wider array of choices, which would have been related to both the development of long-distance trade and to the intensification of specialized and independent production at the site. There was a high degree of homogeneity of artifact assemblages between households of different socio-economic status and from different parts of the site, and very few resources that were either exclusive to the elite or directly related to wealth (see 7.4 Consumption patterns above for a more in-depth discussion of consumption patterns during this time). The increase of diversity and decrease in standardization of ceramics indicate a decrease in centralized control over production and exchange. Coupled with the maintenance of high degrees of homogeneity between households, and a reduction of goods and resources that were exclusive to the elite of Uxul or even clearly related to wealth, this indicates the development of free market exchange during this time. The high degree of homogeneity further implies that distribution was centralized, most likely because it was based in a single marketplace where everyone had access to a wide array of economic choices. Although the distribution of wealth is unequal during this time, and suggests that the elite had some form of control over the economy of Uxul, commercialization processes increased during this time period, and the economy of Uxul became clearly based on market exchange. The power of the elite, on the other hand, seems to have become less based on control over the economy, and more on external political

In the course of the Early Classic, Uxul grew to its largest extension, with peripheral neighborhoods becoming much more populated than before. During this time the variation of ceramic styles available to the inhabitants of Uxul diminished, while the homogeneity of household ceramic assemblages increased significantly. It seems that these processes of standardization, coupled with a period of demographic growth, are associated with a streamlining of production and exchange systems through centralized processes. The homogenization of both the styles and the vessel forms available to people living throughout the site indicates that the supply of goods and resources became largely centralized, and organized through a single exchange platform. The rulers of Uxul had systematic exclusive access to a number of types of high-quality polychrome ceramics, suggesting that they had a relatively high degree of control over the economy, employing exclusionary tactics to legitimate and maintain their power. This suggests that there were different exchange systems in place that were responsible for the distribution of utilitarian ceramics, which were homogeneously distributed, possibly through market exchange processes, and that of high-quality polychromes, which it seems were not commercially available. Although there was a high degree of homogeneity of ceramic household assemblages this was mostly driven by a low degree of variety available to most households. Only in the palace complex was the diversity of ceramic groups and vessel forms significantly higher than in other households. The low degree of diversity of goods in most households except for the 311

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands tactics, largely related to a legitimation of power through association with the rulers of Calakmul (see 7.3 Settlement organization and its implications above). During the Terminal Classic period, the economic system largely broke down, and Uxul was all but abandoned. Although the diversity of ceramic assemblages remained high, showing that their distribution and production continued after the fall of the Uxul political elite, their distribution became highly decentralized. Indeed, the homogeneity of ceramic assemblages between households decreased significantly, suggesting that they did no longer obtain them from a single centralized marketplace. During this time people had to obtain their ceramics from different sources, and the central market system seems to have broken down together with the centralized oversight that contributed to its organization during the Late Classic period. It seems that with the disappearance of central power at Uxul, and as the population of the city moved away, the economic system broke down and became largely based on individual opportunistic and small-scale strategies of those who remained behind.

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8 Conclusions All of the measures for the economic organization, wealth distribution, settlement patterns, and quality of life at Late Classic Uxul point to four major conclusions:

was exponentially larger than any of the other households at Uxul. Category II households correspond to a small number of very wealthy elites, with very large and high platforms. Category III households form a solid (though not very large) class made up of well-off but not very rich households with their own construction strategies, corresponding to a possible middle class. Category IV is the poorest and largest section of Uxul’s households, with no clear distinctions between the relatively poor and the very poor. This distribution of wealth, in particular with regard to the Pareto-lognormal distribution of wealth, the presence of a middle class, and the partially stratified nature of the economy, corresponds directly to the economic models of many modern commercialized societies. Such societies are characterized by market economies where market exchange is largely free, but supervised by a ruling political and economic body. They correspond to preferential attachment models, meaning that the economy is skewed in favor of the wealthy, and the rich continuously get richer, while the poor generally stay poor. There was no actual power-law distribution of wealth in place, however, meaning that economic mobility, although low, was possible, and everyone had an opportunity to accumulate wealth, and a high degree of economic agency.

• The economy of Uxul was largely based on administered market exchange, where the ruling elite had some measure of control and oversight over market processes, but market exchange was free and responsible for the distribution of the bulk of goods and resources. • Governance in Uxul was largely autocratic in nature and mainly based on external sources of power, while centralized collective action and control of public goods were minimal and instead organized at the neighborhood level through localized strategies. • Wealth, socio-political power, and status were not directly related in Uxul, most measures of quality of life were not directly linked to wealth, socio-political power was not based on economic control, and people along the socio-economic spectrum had a high degree of economic agency. • Uxul was very well integrated into the long-distance exchange network and had a high degree of economic independence. 8.1. Market exchange

The analysis of distribution patterns concerning production and consumption confirms the existence and importance of market exchange in the Late Classic Uxul economy. The inhabitants of Uxul, regardless of their socio-economic status or location at the site, had access to all types of artifacts with few or no formal restrictions. Variations in the distribution of specific types of artifacts existed, but they rarely correlate with wealth, and were instead related to other factors such as household activities, specialization, personal connections, preferences, etc. The high level of homogeneity of household assemblages, including both utilitarian and high value and exotic artifacts, with almost no goods that were inaccessible to non-elites or associated preferentially with wealthier households, conform to models of market exchange following the distributional approach (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 240; Dennehy, Stanley, and Smith 2016, 155; Hirth 1998; Hutson 2021; Shaw 2012, 120). Although an exchange sphere existed that was based on gift exchange and that was exclusive to the elite, and some elites were able to obtain exclusive goods through the exploitation of their land or personal connections, such distribution processes were sporadic, and played only a minor role in the economy of Uxul. The vast majority of goods and resources seem to have been accessible to anyone who desired or needed them and was able to afford them. Economic transactions, although

What was the nature of production, distribution, and consumption processes in Late Classic Uxul? How was wealth distributed in Uxul? Does the distribution of wealth correspond to a highly stratified society? Who was able to accumulate wealth? How does the distribution of wealth reflect the economic and political processes that were in place in Uxul? To what extent was market exchange present in Uxul? Who had access to different types of consumer goods? How was production organized? How is market exchange reflected in the consumption and production patterns of Uxul? What role did people and households along the socio-economic spectrum play within the settlement? Who had economic power and agency? Wealth inequality in Late Classic Uxul was high. However, the disparities in household wealth do not correspond to a highly stratified society or large disparities in measures of well-being in the daily lives of the inhabitants of Uxul. Wealth was distributed following a Pareto-lognormal distribution, with a remarkably continuous curve and a low degree of economic stratification. Several socioeconomic classes were identified, however, based on their capacity to mobilize resources and labor for household construction, as well as their construction strategies. Category I corresponds to the palace complex, which

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Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands they may have been overseen to a degree by an elite class through processes of organization, planning, taxation, administration, etc., were freely performed and accessible to everyone. While the wealthy of Uxul had access to a higher number of economic choices, meaning that they were able to obtain a higher diversity of goods and more specialized artifacts, everyone at Uxul had economic agency and was able to make economic choices regardless of status. The high level of integration of all households of Uxul, both wealthy and poor and both central and peripheral, indicates that the economy was largely based on a single, central market where resources were available to anyone, and that the economy was not highly controlled by the elite.

Late Classic Uxul. The elite were able to maintain their wealth and profit from the market economy through processes such as taxation, administration, organization, regulation, protection, provision of infrastructure, etc., but they did not control economic transactions or the means of production themselves. Wealth was not distributed based on highly hierarchized legal status, economic mobility (although limited in nature) was possible, and anyone could accumulate wealth. Households along the socioeconomic spectrum were well integrated into the single market sphere and had significant economic agency. The way wealth was distributed at Late Classic Uxul corresponds to a model of administered economies (Smith 1976a, 335). Such administered economies tend to have partially commercialized distribution systems, and partially stratified social systems (Smith 1976a, 338), consistent with observations at Uxul. Similar administered economic systems have also been observed and recorded ethno-historically throughout Mesoamerica, especially in the Central Mexican highlands, where rulers are known to have supervised the operation of marketplaces, guaranteeing safety, regulating prices and quality, and policing trading practices in exchange for small taxes (Hirth 1998, 452). Furthermore, the model of a commercialized economy in which market exchange is overseen by elites is consistent with the observation that presumed ancient Maya marketplaces are consistently associated with adjacent elite compounds (Ruhl, Dunning, and Carr 2018, 86).

The organization of part-time specialized craft production reflects the importance of market exchange for the Uxul economy. Specialized production was performed independently by members of households along the socioeconomic spectrum. The products of these producers seem to have been widely available to the inhabitants of Uxul, indicating that producers were independent and were able to freely profit from their products. Categories of socio-economic status and part-time specialists were intersectional, and the production of all kinds of products, even high-value ornaments, was not under any kind of identifiable elite control. Only the performance of ceremonial services may have been restricted to elites, but this could not be exhaustively verified, and not all elites were involved in such activities. Many households in Uxul were involved in some type of part-time specialization, and seem to have produced independently for profit through market exchange. The presence of independent specialists responsible for the production of both utilitarian and highvalue products is consistent with the presence of a market exchange system capable of providing the exchange system needed for the obtaining of raw materials and selling of finished products on a large scale (Feinman and Garraty 2010, 176–77; Hirth 1998, 453).

8.2. Economy and political organization How were economic, social, and political processes organized and interrelated in Late Classic Uxul? What were the relationships between wealth and power? To what degree did the ruling class have control over economic processes in Uxul? How was wealth reflected in daily life? How was the settlement of Uxul organized? Where did people along the socio-economic spectrum live in Uxul? What differences in access to resources and services were there between socio-economic classes? What role did people and households along the socioeconomic spectrum play within their neighborhoods? How do settlement patterns reflect the political and economic organization of Uxul?

Each of the lines of evidence considered here, including the analysis of the distribution of wealth, consumption patterns of both utilitarian and prestige objects, and the organization of household production and specialization, conform to the same economic model: an economy largely based on a market system with a single centralized market accessible to everyone. Importantly, they all contradict the patterns one would have expected if the economy at Uxul had been highly controlled by its ruling elite, i.e. unequal distribution of goods based on wealth, high numbers of goods restricted to the elite, the existence of a power-law distribution of wealth, and high degrees of stratification. While any one of the lines of evidence taken separately might not have been enough to posit these conclusions, the fact that they all complement and reinforce each other makes this analysis of Uxul’s economic system more robust, as it deals with problems related to the equifinality of outcomes. The combination of these approaches suggests that marketplace exchange overseen by a ruling elite was the dominant form of economic distribution at

Although the elite of Uxul were able to control the market economy to a degree, it seems that political power during the Late Classic was not directly based on economic control. Indeed, the lack of significant advantages for the elite in almost all measures of general well-being considered in this research suggests that while wealth may have provided specific advantages, it did not translate to specific roles in society, significant levels of power, or significantly different daily lives than for those who were not wealthy. Wealth did not systematically confer advantages in social integration, access to resources such as the aguadas and ceremonial centers, elevation in the landscape, or access to high-value items. Nor did wealth correspond to specific 314

Conclusions social or political identities or economic occupations. Wealth in Uxul was not synonymous with advantages in aspects of life related to general well-being, such as power, social integration, or access to resources. Of the measures considered in this research, the only advantages that were systematically associated (though not exclusively so) with wealth were imposing and highly visible household architecture and a high diversity of goods. While wealth inequality was high in Uxul, and the elite may have had some level of control over the economy (for example through taxation), relationships between wealth and quality of life, political power, and social identity were complex. There seems to have been little direct relationship between economic prosperity and social identity. Economic power and socio-political power were not synonymous in Uxul, and instead both the wealthy and the poor formed varied, heterogeneous, and complex strata, rather than uniform entities. Elites and commoners did not form monolithic social classes, but were intersectional in social identity, political power, occupation, and wealth. Wealth at Uxul did not dictate what daily life or general well-being was like, and social identity did not dictate the accumulation of wealth. Although the economy of Uxul was, to a degree, overseen by an elite, and this control may have afforded them economic advantages, it does not seem that these economic advantages corresponded to advantages in socio-political power or general well-being. If political power in Uxul were largely based on economic control, it would be expected that the distribution of wealth was tightly controlled by a small elite, who would be able to monopolize many advantages for themselves. This would result in a more uniform wealthy elite class with high degrees of social integration and political power. The fact that almost all measures of well-being and prosperity considered here suggest that the relationship between wealth, social identity, and power was weak in Late Classic Uxul, indicates that power and wealth were not synonymous, and that political power was based largely in non-economic processes. While a small elite at Uxul may have controlled most of the wealth, it seems that they made little to no attempt to control the economy directly through socio-political power (following Graham 2012).

population of Uxul. The only other centrally organized public infrastructure identified at the site were the aguadas, vital for the survival of the city. While the investment in public infrastructure by the political ruling class of Uxul was not nonexistent, it was limited to the bare minimum for survivability and geared towards political gain and a display of domination and power. The lack of top-down investment in public infrastructure at the neighborhood level is consistent with the power of the rulers of Uxul being external and ideological in origin, and based on exclusionary tactics (see Fargher, Blanton, and Antorcha-Pedemonte 2019; Kohler et al. 2018). This is supported by the high degree of wealth inequality seen at Uxul, suggesting that governance was autocratic in nature, rather than collective (see Feinman and Nicholas, 2020; Kohler et al. 2018). The legitimacy of the power of the rulers of Uxul was based directly and explicitly on their link with the Kaan dynasty of Calakmul under whose political influence Uxul fell. This is evidenced both by the epigraphic and iconographic evidence at the site, and in the palace complex in particular, directly referring to the Kaan dynasty, as well as by the remodeling of the civic-ceremonial center to mirror that of Calakmul (Grube et al. 2012). This is supported by the observation that the economic and political organization of Uxul changed at the beginning of the Late Classic period from a centralized economy to a less centrally organized one when the Calakmul influence over Uxul started, suggesting that political power became less based on centralized economic control and more on legitimation through external higher powers. Furthermore, the fact that the city of Uxul collapsed at the end of the Late Classic when the political influence of Calakmul over the region was greatly diminished after military defeat, reinforces the notion that the power of Uxul’s rulers (who seem to have publicly denounced the Calakmul rulers towards the end of their reign (Grube et al. 2012)) was largely based on the power of Calakmul, and therefore no longer sustainable when it was defeated. If political power in Uxul had instead been largely based on internal economic processes, it is unlikely that the collapse of the city would have been directly associated with the loss of power of the Calakmul dynasty, especially since Uxul seems to have been economically largely independent from Calakmul, and would be expected to have been able to maintain at least some of their previous economic prosperity.

Instead, both the iconographic and epigraphic evidence at the site and the way the site is organized indicate that ruling power in Uxul largely originated from external sources rather than internal economic ones. Indeed, the lack of systematic public infrastructure at the neighborhood level suggests that the political organization of Late Classic Uxul was not based on a highly collective state. The vast majority of public infrastructure present at Uxul is concentrated in the civic-ceremonial center and strongly connected to the palace complex. The rulers invested major resources in the development of a ceremonial infrastructure in the image of that found in Calakmul, in a direct reference to their political overlord and as an explicit display of their connection to them. The investments in these monumental centralized ceremonial complexes, then, can be seen as much as a display of power and a strategy of legitimization of that power, as as an investment in the well-being of the

Since the legitimacy of political power in Uxul was not based explicitly on internal processes linked to the prosperity and well-being of its inhabitants, the rulers were not obliged to invest importantly in public infrastructure at the neighborhood level to maintain it (see Kohler et al. 2018, 303). Instead, they invested in exclusionary tactics by displaying levels of power and wealth by way of investment in palatial and associated centralized ceremonial architecture that was far beyond the economic capabilities of anyone else at the site, and a reinforcement of the link of the rulers to both their Calakmul overlords and the supernatural sphere. In this way, the rulers would 315

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands have presented themselves as powerful rulers with a divine and political right to their power, and as protectors of the city (through public ceremonial services) without having to directly provide public goods for the prosperity and well-being of their subjects to maintain the legitimacy of their power.

inhabitants, is reflected on a higher political level in the relationship between Uxul and Calakmul. Indeed, it is clear that Uxul was very well integrated into the longdistance exchange network of the region. The city had ample access to a wide range of foreign goods, including greenstone, obsidian, ceramics, and marine shell. It seems to have had a degree of influence over the long-distance exchange system, either through direct contact with the points of origin of different goods or through the creation of significant demand for specific types of goods, and was able to obtain raw materials from distant sources, even when the trade of such raw materials was rare in the Maya Lowlands (as was the case for greenstone e.g.). In particular, Uxul had access to relatively large amounts of obsidian as compared to the region and to Calakmul. Especially Central Mexican obsidian was more abundant during the Late Classic period in Uxul than in almost any other city in the region for which the origins of obsidian assemblages are known, with the exception of Tikal. This indicates that Uxul was not only well-integrated into the long-distance exchange network, it most likely played an important role in it, possibly as an important node in the redistribution of Central Mexican obsidian in particular to its southern neighbors. This is supported by the high degree of centrality of Uxul in the exchange network for obsidian within the Central Maya Lowlands.

Neighborhoods themselves were not highly organized through central top-down processes, but instead grew organically and each seems to have developed its own strategies for dealing with the absence of centralized processes for the well-being of their inhabitants and the organization of daily life. In the northern and northeastern neighborhoods, local elites seem to have taken on some of the public functions that would otherwise have been provided by a city-wide public infrastructure, such as ceremonial and administrative duties. Elites here had advantages with regard to their access to resources, visibility, and social integration, indicating that not only did they have a greater ability to obtain advantageous locations for their households, other households seem to have clustered around them. Several of the elite households here included large ceremonial structures within their layout, suggesting that they may have had a role in providing semi-public ceremonial services for members of the neighborhood, although this was not verified by largescale excavation. Elites in these neighborhoods may thus have had a level of power at the neighborhood level in the absence of either bottom-up or top-down provision of public goods (following Fargher, Blanton, and AntorchaPedemonte 2019). In the southwestern neighborhood, on the other hand, bottom-up processes seem to have played a role in the organization of the public sphere. Indeed, this is the only neighborhood outside of the city core that included its own ceremonial center. Elites here, however, seem to have had little to no better access to this public ceremonial center, suggesting that they did not play an important specific role in its organization. This suggests that the public ceremonial infrastructure and services in this neighborhood were organized in a bottom-up fashion, independent of centralized oversight. The settlement organization of Uxul was complex and seems not to have been uniform throughout the site. The exclusionary and superiority tactics of the rulers did not directly translate into power for non-royal elites. Instead, the inhabitants of Uxul organized themselves around its central political and symbolic power core, using diverse and localized strategies at the neighborhood level to organize and enhance public resources, prosperity, and well-being.

This importance of Uxul in the obsidian trade, however, sharply contrasts with the situation of Calakmul, on the other hand, where obsidian was found in much smaller amounts, and Central Mexican obsidian in particular seems to have been exceedingly rare (Braswell 2013). While the special role Uxul seems to have had in the trading network of the region may have contributed to the interest Calakmul had in gaining political control over the site, it seems that Calakmul did not directly profit from its trade, especially with regard to obsidian. Instead, it seems that Uxul retained a high degree of economic independence from Calakmul, even when under its political influence. Although the trading position of Uxul may have represented an opportunity for Calakmul to spread influence and create a prosperous zone of economic cooperation (see Martin 2020, 470–71), it does not in any important way seem to have served as a supplier of goods to Calakmul. Much as was the case in Uxul itself between its rulers and inhabitants, power structures between the rulers of Calakmul and Uxul seem not to have been based on direct economic control. 8.4. Concluding remarks

8.3. Economic independence of Uxul

Overall, although the economic system of Uxul differs in some ways from other Classic Maya sites, the results of the present research conform to several recent trends in our understanding of Classic Maya economies. First of all, the importance of market exchange in Classic Maya economies has come to be understood as a vital element, central to urban economies (Becker 2015; Braswell 2010; D. Chase and A. Chase 2014; Freidel, Masson, and Rich 2017; Hutson 2017a; Hutson, Dahlin, and Mazeau 2010;

How was Uxul integrated into the long-distance trade network? What role did it play in regional trade systems? What characterized the connection between Uxul and Calakmul? To what extent was Uxul economically dependent on its political overlords? The lack of a direct link between wealth and power at Uxul, and the degree of economic independence of its 316

Conclusions King 2015, 2020; Masson and Freidel 2012; McAnany 2010; Paris 2021; Shaw 2012; Wells 2006). Although during the development of archaeology in the region the model of market exchange-based economies was long ignored in favor of models based on household selfsufficiency, feasting, and political control of economic redistribution and long-distance trade, it has gained significant traction in recent years (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014, 239; Dahlin 2009, 342; Freidel, ReeseTaylor, and Mora-Marín 2002; Golitko and Feinman 2015, 238; King 2020a). Uxul conforms very much to this newer understanding of ancient Maya economies, with each of the lines of evidence studied here, including the distribution of wealth, consumption patterns of utilitarian, prestige, and exotic objects, as well as the organization of household specialization, pointing to the importance of market exchange in Late Classic Uxul. The elite, contrary to what was long assumed, did not control all or most means of production, the flow of wealth, trade, or long-distance exchange. Instead, inhabitants in Uxul were free to trade, specialize, accumulate wealth, and consume as they chose, meaning that they had a high degree of economic agency. Each of the lines of evidence conforms to models (both archaeological and economic) of commercialized societies, and differs from what would be expected if the economy were highly controlled by a ruling elite.

and Martin 2000; Hendon 2009; Lemonnier 2009, 88–89; Watanabe 2004; Wells 2006, 270). In Uxul, however, such roles for non-royal elites were not systematically observed. Although some elites may have been powerful within their neighborhoods (in particular within the northern and northeastern neighborhoods), none of the lines of evidence considered here, including measures of social integration, centrality, and access to resources, suggested that elites had any systematic advantages when it came to power or measures of general well-being. So the managerial model that is often seen in Classic Maya cities, with the elite serving as intermediaries between commoners and rulers and being powerful individuals themselves on smaller scales, was not evidenced for Uxul. In fact, almost no connections were found between wealth, power, and measures of general well-being in Uxul. The basis for power of rulers and elites in Classic Maya societies, apart from their claim to a divine right to rule, is often found in some form of economic control. Typically, this includes control over economic resources such as means of production, nodes of exchange, production and distribution of high-value materials and objects, longdistance exchange, agricultural lands, territorial claims, etc. (Arnauld et al. 2014; Gonlin 2020; Hirth 1992; Lemonnier 2009, 93–94; Smith 1976a, 311; Smith 1987, 320; Wells 2006, 270). In Uxul, however, very little evidence for elite control over any economic resources was found. Indeed, although the ruling class most likely supervised the maintenance of Uxul’s water sources, and elites may have had some control over the economy through taxation, administration, or the organization of market exchange, there seems to have been little systematic connection between wealth, social identity, and power. While wealthy elites certainly had economic power, in that they were able to extract labor from others to construct the massive architectural groups they lived in and to obtain a wide variety of goods, socio-political power and identity do not seem to have been uniformly linked with wealth. Each of the lines of evidence considered here, including the distribution of high-value goods, the distribution of exotic goods, access to resources, social integration, the organization of production, and household location, show that wealth had no systematic relationship with any of these measures of well-being or that wealthy households had any systematically higher degree of control over resources. Unlike what is often found for Classic Maya urban centers, wealthy households do not seem to have been systematically powerful when it came to economic or political processes. The disconnect between economy and political power observed in Uxul is mirrored in its relationship with Calakmul: although Uxul was under the explicit rule of the Kaan dynasty, Calakmul does not seem to have directly profited from Uxul’s good integration and important role in long-distance exchange networks. Wealth in Uxul did not directly equate to power, and power was not based on economic control.

The political organization of many Classic Maya societies tends to be characterized by hereditary royal dynasties, which were based on a divine right to power, monumental architecture, and politico-religious ceremonies (Demarest 2006; Inomata and Houston 2001). The political model of Uxul seems to conform to such legitimation strategies, as the basis of power in Uxul seems to have been primarily a claim to rule based on external higher powers, including the ruling dynasty of Calakmul and the supernatural realm. Each of the lines of evidence considered here, including distribution of wealth, the spatial organization of Uxul, the distribution and functions of public infrastructure, and the roles of elites within the settlement system point to an autocratic system of governance based on such an external basis for political power, legitimized by support from superior powers. This is supported by the epigraphic and iconographic evidence at the site, as well as the investment in the remodeling of the ceremonial core of Uxul as both an explicit reference to Calakmul, and a way to reinforce the position of Uxul’s rulers as intermediaries with the supernatural world (Grube et al. 2012). However, there was no clear evidence to suggest that the non-royal wealthy elites of Uxul were particularly powerful or played important roles in the political organization of Uxul. It is often observed in ancient Maya cities that non-royal elites tended to administer and oversee subordinate households, playing important roles in the organization of neighborhoods through the creation of asymmetrical dependencies with their subordinates, coordination of labor, and redistribution (Arnauld, Michelet, and Nondédéo 2013; Gillespie 2000b; Grube

This is supported as well by the lack of highly hierarchized classes, fluid boundaries between classes, and the possible 317

Inequality, Wealth, and Market Exchange in the Maya Lowlands existence of a middle class. The degree to which Maya urban centers were hierarchized, whether they were twotiered or three-tiered, is a matter of debate and seems to have varied considerably between urban centers and through time (Chase and Chase 1992, 8–10, 1996a; Haviland and Moholy-Nagy 1992; Richards-Rissetto and Landau 2014, 366). Uxul seems to have fallen clearly on the lowly hierarchized and three-tiered organization end of this spectrum. Indeed, it seems that social identities and occupations of the wealthy and the poor alike were varied, and not mainly based on wealth alone. Although wealth inequality was high, economic mobility was possible (though limited), and everyone was potentially able to accumulate wealth, regardless of social status. There seems to have been no clear legal separation between elites and commoners, and if it did exist it was clearly not directly related to wealth. The existence of a possible middle class supports this blurring between strict economic classes. There was no exclusive, monolithic elite class any more than there was a commoner one, and wealth did not directly correspond to socio-political identity. Much like in many other Classic Maya polities (Houston and Stuart 2001, 57; Hutson 2020a; Inomata 2001a, 36–39; Jackson 2005, 42–43; Sion 2016, 66; Webster, Freter, and Gonlin 2000, 56–57), variation within socio-economic classes seems to have been as great as between classes, and changes of socio-economic status could occur. Identity in Uxul seems to have been a complex and intersectional phenomenon, of which wealth was only one aspect.

Finally, this study shows that by taking a household-based approach, and by combining multiple lines of evidence to study an ancient economic system, such a system can be better understood.

Each of the lines of evidence points to conclusions that support and complement each other, and combine to provide a more complete understanding of the economic organization and its implications for the socio-political system of Late Classic Uxul. The combination of quantitative and qualitative lines of analysis complement each other to provide a broad view of Uxul’s politicaleconomic system, without obscuring individual household characteristics that contribute to a full understanding of the observed quantifiable patterns. To conclude, all lines of evidence considered within the present research combine and complement each other to paint an image of the economic system of Uxul and its implications for socio-political processes. The distribution of wealth, measures of quality of life, consumption patterns, organization of production, and settlement organization of Late Classic Uxul, all point to a system that was largely based on market exchange overseen by a ruling elite, with a largely autocratic system of governance, but where economic control did not form the basis of power, nor did wealth equate with power, status, or identity, and where economic agency was high across the socio-economic spectrum. Furthermore, Uxul was prosperous and well integrated into the long-distance exchange system, and although it was under the political control of Calakmul, it enjoyed a high degree of economic independence.

318

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BA R IN TERNATIONAL SE RIE S 3068 ‘The data are completely new and of high quality. Looking at marketplaces through the lens of households is a new and exciting approach to the study of Maya economies. This work will contribute greatly to the debates of this critical topic in Maya archaeology.’ Professor Travis Stanton, University of California, Riverside ‘This is one of the most in-depth and informative studies on household archaeology that has appeared within the last few decades.’ Professor Arlen Chase, Pomona College ‘Archaeologists in other parts of the world would find this monograph relevant because Barnard’s research questions are broad issues in archaeology: how do we reconstruct social, economic and political regimes in ancient societies? Scholars all over the world ask the same questions and would benefit from reading how Barnard tackles these topics using a mixture of spatial/settlement and archaeological artefact data.’ Professor Antonia Foias, Williams College

This volume examines the economic system of the Classic Maya Lowlands center of Uxul, Campeche, a secondary center under the political influence of Calakmul. A household-based approach is used to review the urban economic system in which these households played a central role. Multiple lines of evidence are combined here, using both quantitative and qualitative methods, to study economic inequality, settlement organization, social integration, power structures, consumption, production, and exchange at the site. The results suggest that the economy of Uxul was largely based on market exchange, and although wealth inequality was high, people along the socio-economic spectrum had significant economic agency, comparable quality of life, and economic mobility was possible. This study shows that the implementation of a multifaceted household-based approach allows for a more complete understanding of the complex economy of an ancient urban center. Els Barnard is a researcher specialized in the study of ancient households, settlement systems, and urban economic processes, with a particular focus on Mesoamerican and Maya archaeology. She studied at Leiden University, the Netherlands, and obtained her PhD in archaeology at the University of Bonn, Germany, in 2021.

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