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Reimagining Regional Analyses : The Archaeology of Spatial and Social Dynamics [1 ed.]
 9781443815376, 9781443813280

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Reimagining Regional Analyses

Reimagining Regional Analyses: The Archaeology of Spatial and Social Dynamics

Edited by

Tina L. Thurston and Roderick B. Salisbury

Reimagining Regional Analyses: The Archaeology of Spatial and Social Dynamics, Edited by Tina L. Thurston and Roderick B. Salisbury This book first published 2009 Cambridge Scholars Publishing 12 Back Chapman Street, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2XX, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2009 by Tina L. Thurston and Roderick B. Salisbury and contributors All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-4438-1328-1, ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-1328-0

TABLE OF CONTENTS

List of Figures............................................................................................ vii List of Tables............................................................................................... x REIMAGINING REGIONAL ANALYSIS INTRODUCTION ........................................................................................ 2 REIMAGINING REGIONAL ANALYSIS IN ARCHAEOLOGY Roderick B. Salisbury NORTHERN EUROPE CHAPTER ONE ....................................................................................... 18 PLACING EXCAVATIONS IN A DIGITAL LANDSCAPE: TOWARDS HOLISTIC REGIONAL ANALYSIS Patrick Daly CHAPTER TWO ....................................................................................... 42 SOCIO-POLITICAL DYNAMICS IN LATER PREHISTORIC IRELAND: INSIGHTS FROM THE POLLEN RECORD Gill Plunkett CHAPTER THREE.................................................................................... 67 IMAGINING DANISH PREHISTORY THROUGH 50 YEARS: METHODOLOGICAL AND PARADIGMATIC TRANSFORMATIONS IN REGIONAL AND INTERREGIONAL ARCHAEOLOGY Tina L. Thurston, Jørgen Westphal and Mette Roesgaard Hansen SOUTHEAST EUROPE CHAPTER FOUR ................................................................................... 100 A MULTI-SCALAR APPROACH TO SETTLEMENT PATTERN ANALYSIS: THE TRANSITION FROM THE LATE NEOLITHIC TO THE EARLY COPPER AGE ON THE GREAT HUNGARIAN PLAIN Attila Gyucha, William A. Parkinson and Richard W. Yerkes

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Table of Contents

CHAPTER FIVE ..................................................................................... 130 SOCIAL AND SETTLEMENT DYNAMICS IN THE HUNGARIAN LATE NEOLITHIC AND EARLY COPPER AGE – A REGIONAL INQUIRY Roderick B. Salisbury and Margaret R. Morris CHAPTER SIX ....................................................................................... 164 THE SPATIALITY OF FOOD: DEFINING EARLY COPPER AGE HOUSEHOLDS ON THE GREAT HUNGARIAN PLAIN Kimberly Kasper CHAPTER SEVEN .................................................................................. 199 SETTLEMENT AND ENVIRONMENT IN THE LATE COPPER AGE ALONG THE SOUTHERN SHORE OF LAKE BALATON IN HUNGARY Szilvia Fábián and Gábor Serlegi SOUTHWEST EUROPE CHAPTER EIGHT .................................................................................. 234 COSMOLOGICAL BONDS AND SETTLEMENT AGGREGATION PROCESSES DURING LATE NEOLITHIC AND COPPER AGE IN SOUTH PORTUGAL António Carlos Valera CHAPTER NINE .................................................................................... 266 LANDSCAPE, IDENTITY AND MATERIAL CULTURE IN “TIERRA DE BARROS” (BADAJOZ, SPAIN) DURING THE 3 RD MILLENNIUM BCE Víctor Hurtado Pérez and Carlos P. Odriozola CONTRIBUTORS .................................................................................. 291 INDEX..................................................................................................... 293

LIST OF FIGURES Figure 1-1: Diagram showing the relationships between the different scales of material in both the database tables and the map elements. ......................... 29 Figure 1-2. An example of a detailed GIS analysis of excavated ceramics data that was made by context, and displayed broadly across the site (Segsbury Castle) in plan. ................................................................................................. 31 Figure 1-3. The results from the same query in Figure 2 which are shown vertically in section. ......................................................................................... 31 Figure 1-4. The case study area in Southern Britain showing all the digitally mapped and located surface features. All of the excavated features contain up to object level databases which can be queried across the landscape, as well as in section.............................................................................................. 33 Figure 2-1. Location of pollen studies cited in the text. ......................................... 44 Figure 2-2. Location of principal archaeological site and site types referred to in the text. ........................................................................................................ 45 Figure 2-3. Schematic representation of changes in the levels of land clearance (grey curves) and changes in the Later Prehistoric archaeological record in Ireland. ............................................................................................................. 51 Figure 3-1. Denmark and South Scandinavia, including location of Thy’s Iron Age project....................................................................................................... 76 Figure 3-2. Bronze Age burials in Thy................................................................... 83 Figure 4-1. Map of Carpathian Basin showing the Great Hungarian Plain and the Körös River Valley. ................................................................................. 101 Figure 4-2. Map of Körös River Valley showing main hydrological features and soil types.................................................................................................. 105 Figure 4-3. Map of Körösladány-Bikeri and VésztĘ-Bikeri showing magnetic anomalies and excavation units...................................................................... 107 Figure 4-4. Map showing the distribution of Late Neolithic sites in the Körös River Valley................................................................................................... 112 Figure 4-5. Map showing the distribution of Early Copper Age sites in the Körös River Valley and the sites mentioned in the paper............................... 113 Figure 5-1. Map of Hungary, showing research area in the Körös Valley............ 132 Figure 5-2. Distribution of Late Neolithic Tisza sites in Békés County, Hungary. ........................................................................................................ 141 Figure 5-3. Distribution of Early Copper Age Tiszapolgár sites in Békés County, Hungary............................................................................................ 143 Figure 5-4. Results of magnetometry and location of excavation blocks for VésztĘ-Bikeri and Körösladány-Bikeri. ......................................................... 145 Figure 5-5. Results of phosphate survey for VésztĘ-Bikeri and KörösladányBikeri. ............................................................................................................ 146 Figure 5-6. Results of phosphate survey for Okány-Futás.................................... 150

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List of Figures

Figure 5-7. Results of phosphate survey for MezĘberény-Bódis-major. .............. 151 Figure 6-1. Location of KRAP Study Area in Southeastern Hungary. ................ 166 Figure 6-2. Outline of Block Excavation Units and Features at the VésztĘBikeri site....................................................................................................... 172 Figure 6-3. Presence of Plant Remains Per Liter of Soil Floated at VésztĘBikeri. ............................................................................................................ 175 Figure 6-4. Presence of Plant Remains per Complex. .......................................... 178 Figure 6-5. Kernel Density Estimates for Plant Remains at VésztĘ-Bikeri. ......... 180 Figure 6-6. Kernel Density Estimates for Weeds at VésztĘ-Bikeri. ..................... 181 Figure 6-7. Plant Activity Area One (Hearth Feature) at the VésztĘ-Bikeri site. . 182 Figure 6-8. Percentages of Plant Remains Recovered from Plant Activity Area One................................................................................................................. 183 Figure 6-9. Densities of Plant Remains with the Floor Context of Plant Activity Area 4............................................................................................... 185 Figure 7-1. The elevation and flood map of Lake Balaton and its environment with the route of the M7 highway and its archaeological sites....................... 200 Figure 7-2. The main pottery shapes of the phases of the Late Copper Age Baden culture at Balatonkeresztúr-Réti-dĦlĘ ................................................. 209 Figure 7-3. Calibrated Late Copper Age radiocarbon dates of from Balatonkeresztúr-Réti-dĦlĘ. ........................................................................... 213 Figure 7-4. The spatial distribution of features of the Boleráz and classic phase of the Baden culture at Balatonkeresztúr-Réti-dĦlĘ. ...................................... 215 Figure 7-5. The ratio of species in the faunal material of the Boleráz, Early and Late Classic phases of the Baden culture, and in the sacrificial pits of the Late Classic phase at Balatonkeresztúr-Réti-dĦlĘ................................ 217 Figure 8-1. Map published by Silva and Soares (1976:77), locating the sites that supported their model for Southwest Iberia ............................................ 237 Figure 8-2. Map published by Hurtado (1995) with the settlement aggregated network of “Terra de Barros”......................................................................... 239 Figure 8-3. Map published by Nocete (2001) with spatial limits of hierarchic dependency in South Iberia through the 3rd millennium BC. ........................ 240 Figure 8-4. Settlement distribution in Southwest Iberia from middle 4th to early 2nd millennium BC........................................................................................ 243 Figure 8-5. Three examples of physical resources for cosmological representations. A. Correlation between horizontal linearity of the Sun’s path from East to West with the vertical linearity of sky/earth’s surface/sub-soil; B. Using water streams to express cosmological dichotomies: axel established by division left bank/right bank and axel established by stream (upstream/downstream); C. Using topography to express cosmological dichotomies (e.g. plateau/valley). These different resources can be articulated in different ways....................... 251 Figure 8-6. Perdigões aerial photography with indication of specific areas and orientation and in the local territory ............................................................... 254 Figure 8-7. Geological context of the Perdigões area. Note the concentric tendency of geological formations and the coincident centrality of the weathered diorites and gabbros (where the ditches were easier to open). ...... 255 Figure 9-1. Distribution of Middle Guadiana Basin Chalcolithic settlements. ..... 271

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Figure 9-2. Construction in the small fortified settlement of Las Mesas. ............. 274 Figure 9-3. Distribution of different types of “eyed idols” in the territories of the Southwest, according to Thiessen polygons as applied in the biggest settlements. .................................................................................................... 283 Figure 9-4. Distribution of “eyed idol” and “anthropomorphic figurine” types in the TTB. Line: ypothetical eastern limit of TTB territory.......................... 284

LIST OF TABLES

Table 5-1. Late Neolithic/Early Copper Age Transition.......................... 136 Table 6-1. Cultural Complexes at the VésztĘ-Bikeri site. ....................... 174 Table 6-2. Appendix: Identified Plant Remains from VésztĘ-Bikeri ...... 192 Table 7-1. The altitude of the settlements of the various archaeological periods excavated at Balatonkeresztúr-Réti-dĦlĘ............................... 205 Table 7-2. Late Copper Age radiocarbon dates from BalatonkeresztúrRéti-dĦlĘ. ........................................................................................... 212

REIMAGINING REGIONAL ANALYSIS

INTRODUCTION REIMAGINING REGIONAL ANALYSIS IN ARCHAEOLOGY RODERICK B. SALISBURY

Introduction What is regional archaeology? Does it comprise statistical analyses of object distributions or static site locales, or is it the study of more complex social and cultural interactions? With this volume, we attempt a fresh look at regional analyses in archaeology, reimagining what regional archaeology can be, and how these objectives can be pursued: away from study of mere physical environment and inclusive of the multitude of new approaches to human-land interactions. The authors focus on understanding individual trajectories and the historically contingent relationships between the social, the economic, the political and the sacred as reflected regionally, while attempting to bridge particularistic micro-regional studies to the larger world without resorting to generalizing ‘covering law’ approaches of the past. Among the topics considered are the social construction of landscape, use of spatial patterning to interpret social variability, human impacts on ancient environments, and the spatiality of social memory and social practice. Regional analyses in archaeology have a long affiliation with the characterization of spatial distributions and the relatedness of objects and sites through quantitative map-based approaches. Since the 1960s and 1970s, aspects of the physical environment have often been included, and a suite of techniques such as Thiessen polygons, rank-size distributions, catchment analysis, central-place models, and spatial statistics have been applied to produce more complex models of resource distributions and potential interactions (e.g. Earle 1976; Hodder and Orton 1976; Johnson 1981; Vita Finzi and Higgs 1970; Washburn 1974). Many of these studies were conducted at a single and fairly large scale, having focused on

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patterns of settlement, often in relation to resources, and were conducted by archaeologists using traditional ‘artifacts’ as indicators of group affiliation or boundary markers. Since this time, a number of fallacies integral to many such approaches have been revealed, and both the definition of ‘region’ and the methods for studying them have shifted dramatically. Reimagining regional analysis as a multi-scalar, multi-disciplinary practice, inclusive of both natural and cultural landscapes (or inclusive of a landscape that is both cultural and natural), as well as avoiding the errors now associated with equating styles or production methods with ‘cultures’ or ‘peoples’ is a fundamental goal of this volume. Great strides have been made toward this objective in many world regions; in Europe, this trend has been much more uneven. In global perspective, over the past decade there have been a number of regional studies published as monographs, edited volumes and articles, and informative summaries of trends in regional analysis (Galaty 2005; Kantner 2008; Kowalewski 2008). These have alternately focused on one region (Gaffney and Stanþiþ 1996; Bennet and Galaty 1997; Wilkinson 2000; Whalen and Minnis 2001; Patterson 2004), one period (Peterkin and Price 2000; Montmollin 2004) or one area during one period (Amick 1996). In a few cases, such as Beck (1995) and Delcourt and Delcourt (2004), the analytical subjects are specific cultural practices rather than static objects. The chapters in this volume aim to inject a pan-European context into this corpus, with individual contributions targeting specific regions and periods, through inclusion of a multitude of analytical elements.

Conceptualising regions A necessary question, addressed in nearly every discussion of regional analysis, is how to define a region. Should we try to include “all the area occupied by people likely to have been in frequent close contact”, as stated by Cowgill (1990:251)? If we adopt this meaning, where do the interactions end, and how does one define “close interaction”? Alternatively, should we use this definition, given in the same paragraph (ibid.) and “include all the sites occupied by reasonably well-defined social units during the period of interest”? Both of these definitions suggest a temporal dimension as well as a spatial one, with an emphasis on a specific period or culture. Frequently, regional analysis focuses on one or two periods,

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Introduction

although this does not necessarily need to be. It is also the case that modern political boundaries often force the acceptance of specific analytical boundaries. For example, consider the modern border between Hungary and Romania. To date, strong collaborations between Hungarian and Romanian prehistorians have not developed, and the result it that understanding of regional settlement patterns in places like the Körös River valley is incomplete and limiting. Thus, when we say we are working in the Körös River territory (e.g. chapters by Gyucha et al., Salisbury and Morris, and Kasper), we really mean that we are working in the Hungarian Körös. Similarly, Thurston et al. (Chapter 3, this volume) point out the problematic nature of studying Viking Age “Denmark”, when it is currently distributed across both modern Denmark and Sweden, two countries whose national archaeological traditions are substantially dissimilar. This situation is repeated again and again in European archaeology. A call for greater cross-border collaboration is easy to make; enacting it will require a significant outlay of time and diplomacy.

Issues of Scale As with the question of defining ‘regions’, we must acknowledge issues of scale. The discussion of scale in archaeology is not new (e.g. Lock and Molyneaux 2006; Wandsnider 1998), and does not need comprehensive revisiting here. However, one point does deserve recognition. The various scales at which we conduct regional analysis can result in diverse and possibly contradictory interpretations. The authors here argue that we must proceed at multiple scales, using a particular scale only as a point of departure, or a point of arrival, or both, rather than seeing the region as the single and privileged analytical objective (e.g. in this volume Daly; Gyucha et al.; Salisbury and Morris; Thurston et al.). Levels of scale may include the supra-region, macro-region, region, microregion and local, and even this list is not exhaustive. In Central Europe, for example, the supra-regional scale could be the Carpathian Basin, and within it, a macro-regional scale of Transdanubia or the Great Hungarian Plain. Micro-regional analyses focus on specific landscapes within the larger region. Finally, what is often referred to as site-focused analysis can be conceived of as the local scale, but instead of focusing on the site alone, the site and its environs, including microenvironments, are considered. Larger units can also be envisaged; Galaty (2005) suggests that in case of the spread of agriculture, for example, all of Europe could be the analytical region.

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In some cases, we bring inspiration from outside of Europe to shed new light on regional issues. In their study of the northern San Juan region of the U.S. Southwest macro-region, Muir and Driver (2002) apply multiple scales of analysis to identify use and discard patterns of faunal remains. In order to decipher economic and social complexity, as well as environmental trends, they work from the household up to the regional level. Similarly, the Körös Regional Archaeological Project (Gyucha et al. this volume; Parkinson et al. 2004) employs multiple analytical scales to examine sociopolitical and socioeconomic changes at the end of the Neolithic in eastern Hungary. In this volume, Daly, Gyucha et al., Salisbury and Morris, and Thurston et al. also view regional analysis as an explicitly multi-scalar approach. In these sections, use of multiple scales helps to connect site-level studies to problems and patterns observed at the regional or macro-regional scale.

A Brief History of Regional Studies A complete summary of regional approaches in archaeology is outside the scope of this introductory chapter, and readers are directed to Parsons (1972), Johnson (1977), Galaty (2005), Kantner (2005, 2008), and Kowalewski (2008) for more comprehensive reviews from various eras, which in themselves give an indication of the historicity of the concepts. The brief synopsis here is intended to provide background for the work in this book, which encompasses the regional flavors of scholars from diverse intellectual backgrounds across Europe and America. One of the earliest European attempts to interpret regions developed in late nineteenth century Austria through the work of early cultural geographers whose goal was to reconstruct ancient history through both archaeological and ethnological evidence. Ratzel’s anthropogeography led to the Vienna culture-historical school of ethnography, Kulturkreis or culture-circle, and the cultural theories of ethnographers Schmidt, Graebner, and Menghin. Ratzel explicitly opposed evolutionary theories (Köb 1996:37), believing that the spread of cultural elements was best explained historically, by cultural contact and diffusion. Like Ratzel, Menghin denied evolutionism, while Schmidt incorporated it into diffusionism (Klejn 1993:52). The Kulturkreis as a basic concept of cultural-historical ethnology became popularized through the work of Graebner, who defined “Kulturkreislehre” as a complex of cultural elements typical for a certain area, including not only the settlement patterns and material culture, but also religious and mortuary practices.

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The concept of culture circles was later applied in Argentina by Menghin, and is clearly implicated in Wissler’s culture-area and age-area models. The history of archaeology as presented by most Anglo-American faculties has culture-historical approaches gaining ascendancy in the first half of the twentieth century, largely rising from the ashes of antiquarianism. The dismissal of both antiquarianism and unilinear nineteenth century social-evolutionism marks the beginning of an anthropological archaeology, especially explicit in America. Following the widespread acceptance of Wissler’s archaeological culture-area concept (Kroeber 1931), archaeologists began documenting archaeological culture areas, building material culture taxonomies, and pursuing the evidence for diffusion and migration. This was followed, in the Anglo-America world, by the New Archaeology (Binford 1962, 1968; Clarke 1973), which eventually transformed into so-called processual archaeology, a hypothetical-deductive based attempt to create a social-science archaeology. Again, this involved a paradigmatic shift, with earlier concepts largely rejected, this time in favor of anti-historicism, ecological approaches, the study of site formation processes and the treatment of cultures as systems. This served to broaden the range of hypothetical causal factors for prehistoric people’s choices regarding settlement location and land use (Jarman et al. 1972; Vita Finzi and Higgs 1970). Studies predicated upon regional surveys of settlement proliferated during the 1960s and 1970s (Parsons 1972; Read 1975). At that time, issues of scale, sampling and cultural connections provided more than enough problems to occupy researchers. Unfortunately, while offering detailed analyses of scores of environmental and technological variables, those using such approaches also projected the impression of scientific omniscience, as well as de-humanizing and dehistoricizing the archaeological record in favor of mechanistic models of ‘resources procurement’ and ‘optimizing behavior’. The 1980s saw the rise of several strong critiques against processualist assertions of objectivism and the valuation of empiricism over or to the exclusion of humanistic approaches. Called post-processualists, to suggest a move beyond positivist assumptions, such scholars emphasized context, methodological individualism, and the symbolic nature of material culture. With their focus on the contextually embedded and the historically contingent, these new approaches frequently neglected to acknowledge patterns and interactions on very broad scales, or to connect the local with

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the regional and super-regional – as if there were no connections at all. As the twenty-first century unfolds, a number of scholars have attempted to apply the best of these various approaches while avoiding the selfdestructive tendencies toward negative polemic that characterized earlier paradigmatic shifts, and which have splintered academic departments and continue to contribute to the continuing rift between academic “pure” archaeology and the applied archaeology of Cultural Resource Management. During this era of upheaval in Anglo-American archaeology, scholars on the Continent, following an unbroken tradition of culture-historical archaeology, continued to conduct such research with the addition of advanced scientific and technological methods. The association of regional patterns and studies with National Socialism, particularly the adoption of Kossina’s work by the Nazis (Trigger 1989: 161-163), left many European prehistorians preferring the term landscape to refer to the larger distribution of settlements, avoiding any overt reference to identifying ethnic groups (Kossack 1992; Galaty 2005). The descriptor ‘landscape’ is gaining popularity across Europe but is often used as a substitute for ‘region’, rather than a real application of the landscape theoretical approach. Upon examination, many European regional studies typically are limited to analysis of settlement at the local scale and intrasite patterning (Cherry 2002). Elsewhere, however, theoretical landscape archaeology has become a popular form of understanding regions (Ashmore and Knapp 1999; Bender 2002; Bradley 1998, 2000; Brück 2001; Chapman and Dolukhanov 1997; Clark et al. 1998; Hirsch and O’Hanlon 1995; Muir 1999; Tilley 1994; Ucko & Layton 1999). Landscape archaeologists typically treat the entire landscape under study (which could be presented at any of many different scales) as one large and ever-changing artifact, and include every trace of human activity as well as theorizations of how the landscape was imagined, mythologized, experienced and perceived. While some archaeologists appear to find such less empirically situated and non-‘data-driven’ analyses threatening to ‘proper’ interpretations (e.g. Fleming 2006), there is much precedent within archaeology for the pursuit of highly specialized approaches. Despite these theoretical conflicts, during the late 20th and early 21st centuries, technological advances have significantly transformed our ability to understand regions. Perhaps the most conspicuous example of the impact and availability of geospatial technology is the integration of geographic information technologies and digital data sets such as satellite

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Introduction

imagery (at the regional scale) or 3D laser scanning and geophysics (at the local scale). Efforts continue to find ways to use these technologies to present qualitative data as well. Aerial photography has been used for reconnaissance since the early 20th century (Wilson 2000; Brophy and Cowley 2005), and is now augmented by space-based remote sensing, which began with the application of radar and IKONOS satellite imaging in the late 20th century (Madry and Crumley 1990) and has recently become much more sophisticated (Parcak 2009; Wiseman and El-Baz 2007). The utility of this data is greater now than ever before, with a wide variety of multi-spectrum data available at varying levels of precision from both government and private industry sources. As Branting and Trampier (2007: 276) note, available data now makes it easier “to get a handle on larger conceptualizations of interrelations and interactions at larger and larger scales”. For example, one recent development is the use of aerial images in conjunction with fractal geometry to explore patterning of settlements in relation to landscape features (e.g. Brown and Witschey 2003; Zubrow 2007). Daly (Chapter 1) uses aerial imagery and remote sensing, along with detailed excavation, to explore the relationships between changing patterns of social and political organization and changing scales of landscape use in South Central Britain. These methods are best when combined with consideration of indigenous meanings of space and place, and the roles of practice, agency, memory and perception in innovative ways. Analytical methods and interpretive frameworks have been developed that incorporate the dynamic nature of social space and social interactions. Regional studies now combine settlement patterns, ecological data, cultural landscapes and awareness of human impacts, along with both the intended and unintended meanings and consequences of action (for example, see Chapman and Gearey 2000 for a discussion of methods in perception and palaeoecology). As summarized above, the last 100 years have seen archaeologists continually repositioning their perspectives on both culture and nature in regional perspective. Various approaches have included descriptions of how people were distributed across the land, questions concerning how the environment constrains and affords human agency and social organization, and consideration of the practices through which people socialize the natural world and create their place within it (Biersack 1999). At each of these turns, some aspect of prehistory has become more dynamic, albeit at times to the detriment of other aspects.

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Reimagining Regional Analysis Perhaps the clearest origin of the differences between various approaches to the study of regions lies in each scholar’s theoretical orientation: European archaeologists often reside firmly within the Humanities, while American counterparts fall within the Social Sciences. In Britain, archaeologists have traditionally divided, theoretically, between these domains. Humanists desire to understand the trajectory of a unique group, while Social Scientists hope to uncover generalities and patterns. Both of these approaches have merits and pitfalls, and over the course of the 20th century, both merits and pitfalls have been explored and experienced, often feeding cross-disciplinary conflicts. Today, having survived the triumphalism of both approaches, the difficult but worthwhile integration of these very different approaches is finally being attempted. Thus, the greatest positive development of recent debates has been the creation of diverse approaches to archaeology at the regional scale, and the increased connections between these approaches, through landscape theory, local history, palaeoecological studies, large-scale archaeological surveys, and heritage management efforts, among others. The contributors in this volume explore the interplay between different methodological and theoretical approaches to regional analysis in archaeology, in an effort to bring the dynamic nature of society and space to light. Yet new conceptual frameworks and advances in quantity and quality of data require contextualized theoretical frameworks that are at least as dynamic as the past we are attempting to understand. Much as we can approach analysis of regions from multiple scales, we can also start our approach from different ideas and multiple data sets. For example, Chapters by Plunkett (Chapter 2), by Gyucha et al. (Chapter 4) and by Fábián and Serlegi (Chapter 7) approach regional social issues partly through environmental reconstruction; Plunkett through pollen analysis, Gyucha and colleagues combine palaeohydrology, soil data, vegetation and settlement patterns, and Fábián and Serlegi use climate data. Kasper (Chapter 6) begins from archaeobotanical analysis of seed remains from a single site to pose questions about society and food. Valera (Chapter 8), and Perez and Odriozola (Chapter 9) examine connections between ideology, materiality and social/spatial boundaries of communities on the Iberian Peninsula. All seek to situate past societies within the fullness of their historical contexts while also attempting to uncover connections at the regional level, addressing experience, memory and intention while remembering that nothing happens in a vacuum: structures, institutions and environment are

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Introduction

also important components of human life (e.g. Salisbury and Morris, Chapter 5). We, as have others, hope to help bridge the differences between concepts of regional studies in the various traditions (Galaty 2005: 294). Combining these conceptual threads permits a reimagining of the potential of regional archaeology in the twenty-first century. Today, although we cannot claim to have resolved this issue, we have made enough progress to move in new directions, and the chapters in this volume contribute toward this new trend. A blending of several theoretical and methodological traditions now seems both possible and desirable. We explore these perspectives in conjunction with recent advances in spatial analysis and the measurement of human impacts on ancient environments, with the goal of opening a discourse around the spatial patterning of the contingent, recursive relationships among the landscape and sociopolitical, ritual, and economic activities. A continuing challenge for the archaeology of the twenty-first century will be integrating particularist, micro-regional studies that have informed on so many aspects of human life with reasonable comparative studies that might answer questions about changes in social, political and economic organization. As we overcome obstacles in both our thinking and in recovering the physical remains of the past, we constantly uncover new problems that should remind us humbly that those who came before constantly had to overcome as well. Parsons’ statement regarding the contribution of L. H. Morgan to settlement studies (Parsons 1972:128) can be re-phrased today to refer to regional studies of the past 35 years. Whatever the criticisms we find easy to direct at their work today, the fact remains that real efforts were made to grapple with complex questions, questions and efforts that form the basis for a reimagined regional analysis.

Works Cited Allen, K. M. S., S. W. Green and E. B. W. Zubrow, (eds.) 1990. Interpreting space: GIS and archaeology. London/New York: Taylor & Francis. Ashmore, W. and A. B. Knapp, (eds.) 1999. Archaeologies of landscape: contemporary perspectives. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishers. Beck, L. A. (ed.), 1995. Regional Approaches to Mortuary Analysis. New York: Plenum Press. Bender, B. 2002. Time and Landscape. Current Anthropology 43: S103S112. Bennet, J. and M. L. Galaty, 1997. Ancient Greece: Recent developments in Aegean archaeology and regional studies. Journal of Archaeological

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Research 5: 75-120. Biersack, A. 1999. Introduction: From the "New Ecology" to the New Ecologies. American Anthropologist 101: 5-18. Binford, L. R. 1962. Archaeology as Anthropology. American Antiquity 28: 217-225. —. 1968. Some Comments on Historical versus Processual Archaeology. Southwestern Journal of Anthropology 24(3): 267-275. Bradley, R. 1998. The Significance of Monuments. London: Routledge. —. 2000. An Archaeology of Natural Places. London and New York: Routledge. Branting, S. A. and J. Trampier, 2007. Geospatial Data and Theory in Archaeology: A View from CAMEL. In R. B. Salisbury and D. M. Keeler (eds.) Space - Archaeology’s Final Frontier? An Intercontinental Approach, pp. 272-289. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholar's Press. Brown, C. T. and W. R. Witschey, 2003. The fractal geometry of ancient Maya settlement. Journal of Archaeological Science 30(12): 16191632. Brück, J. (ed.), 2001. Bronze Age Landscapes: Tradition and Transformation. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Chapman, H. and B. Gearey, 2000. Palaeoecology and the perception of prehistoric landscapes: Some comments on visual approaches to phenomenology. Antiquity 74: 316-319. Chapman, J. C. and P. M. Dolukhanov (eds.), 1997. Landscapes in Flux: Central and Eastern Europe in Antiquity. Colloquenda Pontica 3. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Cherry, J. F. 2002. Vox POPULI: Landscape archaeology in Mediterranean Europe. Journal of Roman Archaeology 15: 561-573. Clark, C. D., S. M. Garrod and M. Parker Pearson, 1998. Landscape archaeology and Remote Sensing in southern Madagascar. International Journal of Remote Sensing 19(8): 1461-1477. Clarke, D. L. 1973. Archaeology: The Loss of Innocence. Antiquity 47: 618. Cowgill, G. L. 1990. Toward Refining Concepts of Full-Coverage Survey. In S. K. Fish and S. A. Kowalewski (eds.) The Archaeology of Regions: A Case for Full-Coverage Survey, pp. 249-259. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press. Crumley, C. L. and W. H. Marquardt, 1990. Landscape: A Unifying Concept in Regional Analysis. In K. M. S. Allen, S. W. Green, and E. B. W. Zubrow (eds.) Interpreting Space: GIS and Archaeology, pp. 7379. Bristol, PA: Taylor & Francis. Delcourt, P. A. and H. R. Delcourt, 2004. Prehistoric Native Americans

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and ecological change: human ecosystems in eastern North America since the Pleistocene. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Earle, T. K. 1976. A nearest neighbor analysis of two Formative settlement systems. In K. V. Flannery (ed.) The Early Mesoamerican Village, pp. 196-223. New York: Academic Press. Entwistle, J. A., P. W. Abrahams and R. A. Dodgshon, 1998. Multielement analysis of soils from Scottish historical sites: interpreting land-use history through physical and geochemical analysis of soil. Journal of Archaeological Science 25(1): 53-68. Fisher, C. and T. L. Thurston, 1999. Dynamic Landscapes and Sociopolitical Process: The Topography of Anthropogenic Environments in Global Perspective. Special Section in Antiquity 73. . Antiquity 73. Gaffney, V. L. and Z. Stanþiþ, 1996. GIS approaches to regional analysis: a case study of the island of Hvar. Ljubljana: Znanstveni inéstitut Filozofske fakultete. Galaty, M. L. 2005. European Regional Studies: A Coming of Age? Journal of Archaeological Research 13: 291-336. Gyucha, A. and P. R. Duffy, 2008. A Körös-vidék holocénkori vízrajza (The Holocene hydrography of the Körös region). In G. Bóka and E. Martyin (eds.) Régészeti ökológiai és településtörténeti kutatások a Körös-vidéken. Gyulai katalógusok 13. Gyula. Hirsch, E. and M. O'Hanlon (eds.), 1995. The Archaeology of Landscape: Perspectives on Place and Space. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Hodder, I. and C. Orton, 1976. Spatial Analysis in Archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Jarman, M. R., C. Vita-Finzi and E. S. Higgs, 1972. Site Catchment Analysis in Archaeology. In P. J. Ucko, R. E. Tringham, and G. W. Dimbleby (eds.) Man, Settlement, and Urbanism, pp. 61-66. London: Duckworth. Johnson, G. A. 1977. Aspects of regional analysis in archaeology. Annual Review of Anthropology 6: 479-508. Kantner, J. 2005. Regional analysis in archaeology. In H. D. G. Maschner and C. Chippendale (eds.) Handbook of Theories and Methods in Archaeology, pp. 1179-1223. Walnut Creek, CA: Altamira Press. —. 2008. The Archaeology of Regions: From Discrete Analytical Toolkit to Ubiquitous Spatial Perspective. Journal of Archaeological Research 16: 37-81. Klejn, L. S. 1993. Is German Archaeology Atheoretical? Comments on Georg Kossack. Prehistoric Archaeology in Germany: Its History and Current Situation. Norwegian Archaeological Review 26: 49-54. Köb, H. 1996. Die Wiener Schule der Völkerkunde als Antithese zum

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Evolutionismus: Pater Wilhelm Schmidt und der Streit um Evolutionismus und Naturwissenschaft in der Ethnologie. Eine wissenschaftsgeschichtliche Studie. Unpublished Masters Thesis, Diplomarbeit, . Kossack, G. 1992. Prehistoric Archaeology in Germany: Its History and Current Situation. Norwegian Archaeological Review 25: 73-109. Kowalewski, S. A. 2008. Regional Settlement Pattern Studies. Journal of Archaeological Research 16: 225-285. Kroeber, A. L. 1931. The Culture-Area and Age-Area Concepts of Clark Wissler. In S. A. Rice (ed.) Methods in Social Science, pp. 248-265. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Lock, G. and B. L. Molyneaux, 2006. Confronting Scale in Archaeology: Issues of Theory and Practice. New York: Springer. Lock, G. and Z. Stanþiþ (eds.), 1995. Archaeology and Geographical Information Systems: a European perspective. London: Taylor & Francis. Lorch, W. 1940. Die siedlungsgeographische Phosphatmethode. Die Naturwissenschaften 28: 633-640. —. 1941. Die Phosphat methode im Dienste der Vorgeschichtsforschung. Germanen-Erbe 6: 55-59. —. 1951. Die Entnahme von Bodenproben und ihre Einsendung zur Untersuchung mittels der siedlungsgeschichtlichen Phosphatmethode. Die Kunde, N.F. 2(21-23). Madry, S. and C. L. Crumley, 1990. An application of remote sensing and GIS in a regional archaeological settlement pattern analysis: the Arroux River valley, Burgundy, France. In K. M. S. Allen, S.W. Green, and E. B. W. Zubrow (eds.) Interpreting space: GIS and archaeology, pp. 364-380. Bristol, PA: Taylor & Francis. Muir, R. 1999. Approaches to landscape. Basingstoke: Macmillan Press. Muir, R. J. and J. C. Driver, 2002. Scale of analysis and zooarchaeological interpretation: Pueblo III faunal variation in the northern San Juan region. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 21: 165-199. Neubauer, W. 2004. GIS in Archaeology - the Interface between Prospection and Excavation. Archaeological Prospection 11: 159-166. Parkinson, W. A., R. W. Yerkes and A. Gyucha, 2004. The Transition to the Early Copper Age on the Great Hungarian Plain: The Körös Regional Archaeological Project Excavations at VésztĘ-Bikeri and Körösladány-Bikeri, Hungary, 2000-2002. Journal of Field Archaeology 29(1): 101-121. Parsons, J. R. 1972. Archaeological Settlement Patterns. Annual Review of Anthropology 1: 127-150.

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Patterson, H. 2004. Bridging the Tiber: Approaches to Regional Archaeology in the Middle Tiber Valley. London: British School at Rome. Read, D. W. 1975. Regional Sampling. In J. W. Mueller (ed.) Sampling in Archaeology, pp. 45-60. Tucson, AZ: University of Arizona Press. Salisbury, R. B. 2008. Az Alföld késĘ neolitikus és kora rézkori településszerkezetének vizsgálatai fúrásadatok elemzésével: A Neolithic Archaeological Settlements of the Berettyó-Körös Project (NASBeK) elĘzetes eredményei (Investigating Settlement Structure through Soil Chemistry on Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age sites in the Körös-Berettyó Region. The NASBeK Project). In G. Bóka and E. Martyin (eds.) Régészeti ökológiai és településtörténeti kutatások a Körös-vidéken, pp. 41-64. Gulai Katalógusok 13. Gyula. Sarris, A., M. L. Galaty, R. W. Yerkes, W. A. Parkinson, A. Gyucha, D. M. Billingsley and R. Tate, 2004. Geophysical prospection and soil chemistry at the Early Copper Age settlement of VésztĘ-Bikeri, Southeastern Hungary. Journal of Archaeological Science 31(7): 927939. Thurston, T. L. 2001. Landscapes of Power, Landscapes of Conflict: State Formation in the Danish Iron Age. New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum Publishing. Tilley, C. J. 1994. A Phenomenology of Landscape: Places, Paths and Monuments Oxford: Berg. Trigger, B. G. 1989. A History of Archaeological Thought. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ucko, P. J. and R. Layton, (eds.) 1999. The Archaeology and Anthropology of Landscape: Shaping Your Landscape. London: Routledge. Vita-Finzi, C. and E. S. Higgs, 1970. Prehistoric Economy in the Mount Carmel Area of Palestine: Site Catchment Analysis. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 36: 1-37. Wandsnider, L. 1998. Regional scale processes and archaeological landscape units. In A. F. Ramenofsky and A. Steffen (eds.), Unit Issues in Archaeology: Measuring Time, Space, and Material, pp. 87-102. Salt Lake City, UT: University of Utah Press. Washburn, D. K. 1974. Spatial analysis of occupation floors II: the application of nearest neighbor analysis. American Antiquity 39: 16-34. Whalen, M. E. and P. E. Minnis, 2001. Casas Grandes and its hinterland: prehistoric regional organization in northwest Mexico. Tucson, AZ: University of Arizona Press. Wheatley, D. and M. Gillings, 2002. Spatial technology and archaeology: the archaeological applications of GIS. London/New York: Taylor &

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Francis. Whimster, R. 1989. The emerging past: air photography and the buried landscape. London: English Heritage Publications Wilkinson, T. J. 2000. Regional Approaches to Mesopotamian Archaeology: The Contribution of Archaeological Surveys. . Journal of Archaeological Research 8(3): 219-267. Wiseman, J. R. and F. El-Baz, 2007. Remote Sensing in Archaeology. New York: Springer. Yerkes, R. W., A. Sarris, T. Frolking, W. A. Parkinson, A. Gyucha, M. Hardy and L. Catanoso, 2007. Geophysical and geochemical investigations at two early copper age settlements in the Körös River Valley, Southeastern Hungary. Geoarchaeology 22(8): 845-871. Zubrow, E. B. W. 2007. Remote Sensing, Fractals and Cultural Landscapes: An ethnographic prologemma using U2 imagery. In J. R. Wiseman and F. El-Baz (eds.) Remote Sensing in Archaeology, pp. 252-280: Springer.

NORTHERN EUROPE

CHAPTER ONE PLACING EXCAVATIONS IN A DIGITAL LANDSCAPE: TOWARDS HOLISTIC REGIONAL ANALYSIS PATRICK DALY

In archaeology, the parameters of regional analysis have been closely related to discipline-wide theoretical shifts and methodological changes linked with technological advancement (Zubrow 2006). The constant project of re-thinking regional analysis is in part a function of appreciating different ways of thinking about space and the enactment of social practices within it. Over the past two decades, there have been broad changes in how archaeologists place people within landscapes, and conceptualise spatial analysis (Barrett 2001; Tilley 1994.). In fact, the basic concept of “regional analysis” has largely been replaced by an increasingly all-encompassing “landscape archaeology”, which has clear implications for the scope and foci of research1. Additionally, it is possible to see parallel changes in the analytical tools used by archaeologists, and how this has factored into the development of archaeological theory (Zubrow 2006). The use of Information Technology (IT), fuelled by the surge of interest in Geographic Information Systems (GIS) and remote sensing has had an undoubted impact on landscape archaeology research programmes and modes of regional analysis (Evans and Daly 2006). Regardless, archaeology is still largely separated into site specific and landscape/regional studies, and there is a notable lack of both theoretical approaches and methodological solutions for this problem. In this chapter, I focus upon the different scales of data that make up the archaeological record and ways to employ digital techniques to incorporate them within holistic regional studies of human activity. This is in part a response to the separation that continues to widen between sitespecific and landscape/regional studies. I argue that this dichotomy is grounded in both theoretical and methodological limitations that are no

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longer binding, and that there are suitable ways to bring together various scales and types of archaeological and environmental information within one framework. My main concern is marrying data derived from landscape survey with excavation data in a way that does not compromise the resolution or integrity of either. All forms of regional analysis have long been restricted by an inability to find a suitable interface between typical landscape data (surface based information) and data derived from excavation – thus suppressing the full contextuality of material culture and our interpretations. To approach archaeological landscapes holistically, all scales of material need to be considered, for sherds of pottery are just as potentially significant for shedding light on past social practices as the earthworks of an enclosure. Likewise, the depositional characteristics of pits at a number of sites across the landscape are just as important as the physical distance between sites or the visibility of monuments from different places in the landscape. An approach is needed that can deconstruct the nature of “site” as a focal point for inquiry by tracing the relationships that occur across time and space, within and between scales of material (Daly and Lock 2004; Frachetti 2006). The methodology explored in this chapter seeks to better understand how different scales of both social practice and material participate within mutually informing sets of processes. This is based upon the premise that landscapes are the outcome of accumulative engagements between people and their material settings. For archaeologists to unpack this, we need to better understand how the relationships between different scales of material culture that we have access to in the present reflect patterns of human activity that are simultaneously meaningful in both site specific and regional contexts.

Holistic landscapes and structure “the landscape is an anonymous sculptural form always already fashioned by human agency, never completed, and constantly being added to, and the relationship between people and it is a constant dialectic and the process of structuration: the landscape is both medium for and outcome of action and previous histories of action.” (Tilley 1994: 23)

Cultural landscapes can be usefully conceptualized as a nexus of connections between people and the material world. Gosden refers to this as a system of reference in which all social acts exist within an interconnected network of activity across time and space (Gosden 1994). Actions have meaning through their relations with other actions; the key

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point being that all social actions are referential. I suggest that the same general principle applies to material culture, whereby meaning is intimately connected with both human action, and other material elements. Landscapes consist of a wide range of material components, from the naturally endowed physical characteristics of the environment, to socially created, maintained, and empowered monuments. It is overly simplistic and even misleading to isolate elements in the landscape for selective interpretation without considering the complex networks of relationships that exist beneath every aspect of social practice. Towards this end, my research explores the ways that different scales of material may have structured, and/or been structured by social practices around them through their availability as physical and/or cultural resources. The construction of cultural landscapes is the product of all levels of human behaviour – from the construction, use and discard of ceramic vessels, and construction of dwelling structures, to the building of massive monument complexes and settlement sites – and all are predicated upon the same underlying principles. This basic idea steers away from the notion that it is useful to separate site specific and regional studies, as it is impossible to fully understand one without appreciation of the other. The research here focuses more on the importance of seeing different scales of material culture, and by proxy social practices, as mutually constitutive. This is influenced by the re-working of the broader theory of structure (i.e. Giddens 1984) by archaeologists such as Bradley, Barrett, and others. Such authors argue that the accretion of material residue in the landscape can be seen as a concrete manifestation of the principle of structuration. The material world, draped in social meaning, is a precondition, and influences the practices that subsequently lead to the alteration of the physical characteristics of the material world. This in turn modifies the very preconditions upon which actions were initially based. A successful approach to practice through material culture has to be holistic, and recognize the complexity of multi-scalar (of both practice and material) interplay as a fundamental aspect of the composition of material contextuality. As both social practice and material culture occur at a number of scales, which exist in a network of relationships with other scales across time and space, giving substance and cohesion to the landscape, all have to be considered within the same framework. However, there have been serious methodological limitations that have served to reinforce the distinction between site and landscape/regional studies. It is important to explore this foundation now before presenting a different approach.

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GIS and regional/landscape archaeology Initially the offspring of a North American cultural management tool (Kohler and Parker 1986), the use of GIS in archaeology has long been dominated by regional or landscape based applications. This has been partly the result of the heritage management concerns that were instrumental in bringing about the introduction of the technology within archaeology and have subsequently embraced it enthusiastically, as well as being supported by the fact that most standard forms of regional analysis are within the inherent functionality of many GIS packages (such as catchment analysis, predictive modelling, and distribution studies of artefact types, for example)2. It has also been suggested that the academic orientation of research programmes, in particular of the pioneers of the technology (Allen et al. 1990; Gaffney and Stanþiþ 1991) were landscape centred, and that this has tailored subsequent research (Biswell et al.. 1995). The use of GIS has an obvious attraction to archaeologists whose research concerns involve large spatial areas given the inherent spatial focus of the various software packages, as this has fundamentally moulded the perception of GIS as solely a tool for regional or landscape analysis. This is commonly seen in spatial analyses that deal mainly with environmental factors, and are used for producing studies of catchment analysis, resource sourcing, predictive site modelling, etc. Another major use of GIS in landscape archaeology is the production of distribution maps, based upon the location of areas of archaeological interest such as sites and other discrete entities. Furthermore, in many landscape survey projects that use field walking methodologies to record the densities of material culture on the ground surface, GIS is often used to map the distributions of such material, usually within some form of polygon or gridded surface, allowing density and other forms of maps to be produced based upon attributes of the material. In all of these types of studies, the common link is exploring the spatial characteristics of human/environmental activity. More recently, GIS has opened additional aspects of landscape study, as discussed in a number of papers (Gaffney and van Leusen 1995; Lock 2001; Wheatley 1993, 2000; Daly and Lock 2004; Evans and Daly 2006). This work has largely focused upon a more humanistic understanding of space, and has had a strong impact on the use of GIS in archaeology, spawning a number of studies that focus upon humans being in the landscape, with particular emphasis upon visibility in (Wheatley 1993;

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Wheatley and Gillings 2000) and movement through (Llobera 1996, 2000; Bell and Lock 2000) the landscape. There are numerous examples of studies that attempt to creatively explore cultural factors, rather than purely environmental ones, as related to the spatial extent of human behaviour, within a GIS framework (Zubrow 1994). However much this has contributed to archaeology3, most of this research is still grounded in landscape orientated studies, in which the basic form of data collection, analysis and representation is horizontal – in plan. Furthermore, the main push of GIS and IT innovation has been driven by increasingly sophisticated efforts to model intimate dimensions of humans being in the landscape.

Sub-surface IT There are, however, much less discussed applications of IT to subsurface archaeology focused upon the management of stratigraphic relationships. This work, in particular that of Ryan, produced a number of IT solutions that create digital Harris Matrices from inputted context relationship data (Boast and Chapman 1991; Desachy and Djindjian 1991; Herzog 1995; Herzog and Scollar 1991; Ryan 1988). Following this, substantial research has gone into the use of IT in the storage and management of excavation archives, with a particular emphasis upon postexcavation data management and analysis (Evans 1999; Hinchliffe and Jeffries 1985; Richards 1991; Semeraro 1993; Williams 1991). A logical extension of this is the increasing appreciation of the role that World Wide Web based hyper documents can play in all stages of the excavation process, from recording and post-excavation processing, through the eventual publication and archiving of the material and records (Austin et al. 2001; Dekoli and Hadzilacos 1999; Ryan 1995). Additionally, digital techniques are playing an increasing role in field based data capture (Ancona et al.. 1999; Csaki et al.. 1995; Fronza et al. 2001; Kamermans et al. 1995; Ryan et al. 1999) which has lead to the 3D recording and modelling of excavation data, both for analysis, data archive, and digital publication (Avern 2002, 2001; Main et al. 1995; Main et al. 1995;Messika 1999; Uotila and Tulkki 2002; Zhukovsky 2002, 2001). An increasing number of large excavation projects, both in academic and commercial archaeology, have a significant IT component that often stretches from the pre-excavation through post-excavation and publication stages.

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While this work shows the significant advancement of the use of IT in handling data from excavations, unfortunately there have been only a very limited range of examples that focus explicitly upon the analysis of excavation data using GIS. Two informative studies in this direction are both products of the commercial archaeology community, and represent the interests of this industry, namely the efficient recording and analysis (and eventual publication and archiving) of large-scale data sets from extensive areas of excavation. The first involves the excavations at the Roman site at Shepton Mallet, Somerset (Biswell et al. 1995). In this work, digital plans of the excavated area, including all features, were put within the raster based IRDISI GIS software to allow for a basic level of intra site analysis at the plan level. The other is a product of Framework Archaeology (a joint venture between Wessex Archaeology and Oxford Archaeology) which uses a very comprehensive IT component for all aspects of the projects it runs, from on site data capture and recording, to post-excavation analysis (Beck 2000). The GIS analysis is done using GSys software that allows for detailed assessments to be made in plan. The work of Nigro and team, dealing with the 3D reproduction and GIS analysis of the excavations at the Swartkrans cave site in South Africa is useful for demonstrating one way in which a GIS based IT solution has been used effectively on a site with deep and complicated stratigraphy (Nigro et al. 2002). They used sophisticated modelling techniques to produce a topographical model of the excavated area. Stratigraphic levels were rendered within Voxel Analyst4 and ARC-VIEW software packages. This allows excavation data to be queried and represented within a 3D matrix of excavated spits, inserted into the space from where they were initially dug. This case study is perhaps the most successful example of a GIS application that allows for detailed 3D analysis, and is a powerful example of how sub-surface data can be successfully put within an IT/GIS environment. It is clear that the use of GIS and other IT applications have largely mirrored, if not informed this distinction between site and landscape/regional analysis. Very few of the examples listed above seek to re-think the parameters and to see both site and regional analysis through the same interpretative lens. As mentioned above, this can partially be explained by the momentum of landscape GIS research and applications. However, it also seems that this derives from the persistent notion that research, such as that as Swartkrans, requires a sophisticated system, supported by a highly IT competent staff. If such projects are dependant upon specialist software, or custom designed packages, then this is a valid concern.

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However, one of the things that I wish to establish in this chapter is that it is possible to not just apply fairly standard GIS and database packages to excavation data, but also to do so in conjunction with landscape level data. In order to do so, it is important to first briefly discuss the technical differences between landscape and excavation datasets.

Horizontal and vertical datasets The major difference between landscape data and excavation data lies in their unique spatial characteristics, which have significant implications for the incorporation of each and especially both together, within GIS and other IT packages. This difference is based upon the Z axis. Standard forms of regional/landscape archaeology almost exclusively deal with horizontal datasets, in which the nature of the data is two dimensional (or 2.5 dimensional5); it exists on the surface of the ground, is recorded on the basis of X and Y coordinates, and while it might have a real world elevation, it does not have depth or volume (there are not multiple points on the same X and Y location with different elevations representing entities in space). Typical examples of data common in landscape projects are sites treated as cohesive entities, landscape earthwork features, and the distribution of material culture such as pottery across the earth’s surface. While the methods used to collect these data are various, they are all linked by the fact that the Z axis reflects topographic realities based upon the physical relationship between the archaeology in question and the ground’s surface. This type of data is usually interacted with spatially in a plan view (looking at a horizontal surface from a perspective above that surface) – usually manifested in some form of map, in which the totality of the spatial entity is represented as two-dimensional. A common example that many will be familiar with is a map showing the distribution of artefacts or site densities within a selected landscape. In contrast, excavations produce datasets that have vertical as well as horizontal locations. Data recovered by excavation have Z values that represent the location of the artefact within the volume of the excavated area6, as the material is usually suspended within a matrix, i.e. artefacts within soil. The moment the first shovel penetrates the ground surface, the jump from 2d or 2 ½d to 3d occurs, as data obtained from excavation has a 3rd dimension that is relative to, but clearly distinct from the elevation of the overlying ground surface. This type of data is usually viewed in section or profile, showing stratigraphy, and vertical depth.

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The major problem representing a vertical dataset in plan is that there is inevitably the potential for multiple entities with individual and separate identities, and unique vertical characteristics to share the same X and Y coordinates, or area defined by a set of coordinates. Therefore, any geographical representation of the data in an individual context will be difficult to distinguish when represented just in plan. At best, this level of analysis allows for the horizontal extent of queries made of the data to be represented spatially, but completely neglects to satisfactorily address the vertical aspects of the data, sacrificing concern for stratigraphic integrity for a user-friendly representation in plan. One of the main theoretical obstacles is the critical issue of data aggregation. This is often an implicit assumption within regional studies, in which at some stage determinations need to be made about the categorization of types of material culture. As it is often the case that archaeological sites both have their own temporal depth, and may be the product of the long-term actions of different cultural groups, identifying sites can be problematic. This problem is often exacerbated when trying to put sites into IT/GIS data structures. I approach this by viewing data structures from the perspective of structuration rather than aggregation, asking how and why different scales of material cultural may be related, rather than how can they be lumped together. It is important to inject this theoretical consideration into the basic stages of data collection and structure, as it gives a framework through which to explore the mutual interplay of different scales of material in the construction of archaeological landscapes. As discussed below, this can also be done within the parameters of most database/GIS applications.

Digital apples and oranges? One of the major conceptual challenges involved in integrating horizontal and vertical data is overcoming perceived incompatibilities of scale, type and resolution. This requires a theoretical foundation for better appreciating how archaeological data are related at different scales, and a methodological platform to incorporate this. It is first necessary to discuss different scales of material culture that compose the archaeological record and are most relevant for this discussion. While people do not experience and construct cultural landscapes in neatly divisible, standardized scales of material, all elements are inherently placed within such categories as part of the process of archaeological data collection and analysis, and this is further reinforced in the process of making archaeological data suitable for

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inclusion with an IT environment. Theoretically, it is important to identify different scales of material culture, and to determine how they worked in concert within social and environmental processes that create the archaeological record. The material remains of social practices are seen as embedded in and recoverable from the landscape as objects, deposits, features and sites, and are both products of, and components within, culturally structured and structuring processes. While these different scales of material can be (and usually are to some degree) separated and treated in relative isolation by archaeologists, this is not at all representative of their range of possible contexts and involvements in relationships, and how deposits from which material are recovered and interpretation based upon, came into being. Part of the issue is to untangle how different scales of material are implicated within the creation of cultural landscapes, and develop methodologies to synchronize them. This is best discussed in the context of the example provided below.

The Ridgeway Study Area The research in this chapter was conducted on a dataset obtained from four seasons of excavations at two Iron Age hillforts on the Berkshire Downs, Oxfordshire: Uffington Castle and Segsbury Camp (Lock et al. 2000; Lock and Gosden 1997, 1998, 2000; Gosden and Lock 1997, 1999, 2001). The main research questions driving this application deal with the changing nature of land use and social practice in the first millennium BC, a period which demonstrates increasing levels of sedentary activity, dramatic shifts in social and political organization, and a continuity of landscape use between later prehistoric and Roman times. My focus was upon integrating the results from a fine grained study of material deposition within a number of carefully excavated sites, with various forms of landscape information derived from a number of sources. The main aim of this work was to better understand how the landscape evolved over time, and to relate this to changing patterns of human activity. The Iron Age hillfort sites are characterised by large earthwork enclosures containing a number of different types of features inside. Due to extensive ploughing, the only surviving archaeological deposits are contained within subsurface features cut into the underlying geology, such as pits, postholes, and ditches. These features are usually discrete entities, with definite boundaries – although there are cases of intercutting and overlap. These surface features serve as containers for various forms of material, often suspended within complicated fills with numerous

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stratigraphic layers. Within these deposits, a substantial assemblage of material culture was recovered, largely ceramics, bone and small finds. This data was excavated and recorded by context, as stratigraphic units, usually by half sectioning each feature to expose the stratigraphic sequence. Therefore, for practical purposes of analysis, the vertical spatial level of analysis are spaces represented by sections, and the material culture is recorded based on the container formed by the stratigraphic unit. In this analysis, individual artefacts are not assigned a specific X, Y, and Z location, rather are referred by the X, Y, and Z volume of the context in which they were recovered.

Digital methodologies All of the material from Uffington and Segsbury at the object, context and the feature levels were brought together in a database using Microsoft Access. The database is tiered, with tables containing information from different scales (individual sherds and objects, contexts, and features) feeding into each other. The structure of the database has been intentionally kept as simple as possible, as one of the aims here is to produce a methodology that can be widely used by researchers that are not IT specialists. The logic behind the structure is that tables exist for each level of scale used in the analysis. There are object, context, and feature based tables. All entries in each table contain unique ID’s (every object, context and feature has its own number). In each table there are fields containing the unique ID’s of the other scales that are related with it (in addition to fields for attributes). For example, the object tables have fields for context and features, and the context tables have fields for the features. Furthermore, there are also fields for the trench number and site. The object database contains all of the raw ceramic data, as well as information on all other artefacts recovered. The context data table contains 30 fields of data including detailed information about the pottery recovered aggregated to the context level (count, weight, mean sherd weight, etc), the composition, form, and compaction of the fill material from the context as taken from the original context record sheets, human and faunal remains, and small finds. The data table for the feature level contains compiled figures of all the categories of material culture mentioned above, in addition to information about the physical shape and dimensions of each feature.

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The database forms the basis for both the range of statistical approaches applied to the data, and serves as the platform from which the archaeological data is linked with the spatial dataset. It facilitates analysis on all of the material recovered from each site at the object, context and feature level, or any combination needed.

Spatial dataset and Ridgeway GIS The spatial dataset consists of digital images at a range of spatial scales. This data is fundamental because it provides the tangible elements to which data previously outlined are anchored. The nature of much of this analysis is such that questions are asked of the dataset and responses are provided graphically, based upon actual images of archaeological contexts and features, in both plan and section. A digital elevation model was made using OS digital data provided as part of the Digimap scheme. This data consisted of six Ordinance Survey quarter sheets at 1: 10,000 scale, with contour intervals every five metres. The plans of all excavated sites within the Ridgeway case study area were digitised using AutoCAD to a level of detail that shows the all of the excavated features7. In addition, from Uffington and Segsbury, all of the plans and sections of the excavated features (pits, earthworks, ditches, gullies, post-holes, hollows, etc.) from the original site archives were digitised. The digital drawings were then converted into polygon COVERAGES8 using ARC-INFO, another GIS package. They were imported into ARC-VIEW, and finally converted into SHAPEFILES. SHAPEFILES are layers of spatial data that the program links with underlying data tables so that spatial analysis can be conducted. Essentially, they are map elements linked with data tables that can visually respond to queries made of that data.

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Figure 1-1: Diagram showing the relationships between the different scales of material in both the database tables and the map elements.

To further integrate the different scales and types of spatial, and at the same time, underlying archaeological data, the object, context and feature databases were brought into ARC-VIEW using SQL CONNECT, allowing the GIS to interface with the external Access databases. This data was then JOINED to the attribute tables that accompany the spatial data, allowing queries to be made of the data and the responses shown in either plan or sections as spatial graphics. The final step to fully integrating the data into one comprehensive tool for both intra and inter-site analysis was to LINK the various tables in a way that enabled queries at one level to resonate at all scales. The data tables for the object level contained fields for both the context number, and feature ID number9, with a field for the feature id number in the context level table. First they were LINKed together by context number and feature id, and then were further LINKed to the same fields in the SHAPEFILE attribute files for both the plan map VIEW (with all features evident in plan) and the section VIEW for all features. A VIEW was established showing all of the landscape data in plan, including all sites and excavated features. All of the sections were saved as separate VIEWS with their attribute tables JOINED and LINKed with the master data tables. Figure 1-1 shows a schematic of the relationships that exist between the database tables, the GIS attribute tables and the map elements.

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This relationship structure is the key to analysing things in plan and section simultaneously. Hotlinks (hyperlinks which allow one to “jump” from image to image) were established based upon the line of the where the section originated on the plan VIEW. This allows one, with the simple click of a mouse, to jump from the plan VIEW to the individual section VIEWs, both of which respond graphically to the same data queries, made from the same master attribute tables. The end product allows for queries to be addressed to both the master context and feature data tables, and the results be shown graphically at both the feature and context level, with the software providing a wide assortment of tools for navigating through the resultant landscape, fully endowed with all available archaeological data. Figures 1-2 and 1-3 demonstrate the capacity of the GIS applied to the Segsbury Castle site. Figure 1-2 depicts ceramics data from excavations analysed by context, and displayed broadly across the site. In Figure 1-3 in plan, two excavated pits provide a more detailed example of the application. The shading represents the percent of highly abraded ceramic material that was recovered from the features. Furthermore, distributions can also be shown based upon the data in the plan and section attribute tables: distributions of data aggregated to the feature level for the plan VIEW; and of data aggregated to the context level in the section VIEW. Two additional sources of spatial archaeological data at the landscape level have been incorporated within the Ridgeway GIS and database. All of the prehistoric and Roman entries in the Oxfordshire SMR located within the Ridgeway case area were put within a database. The entries, with the new set of coordinates compatible with the rest of the spatial dataset, were added to the RIS as a point based SHAPEFILE, brought in as an EVENT THEME10. Figure 1-4 shows the entire Ridgeway case study area including the hillforts, digitally mapped field systems, and the Oxfordshire SMR entries (indicated by the triangles). The database for the SMR information contains a number of fields through which queries can be run. This allows for all the relevant data in the SMR to be queried and represented spatially.

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Figure 1-2. An example of a detailed GIS analysis of excavated ceramics data that was made by context, and displayed broadly across the site (Segsbury Castle) in plan.

Figure 1-3. The results from the same query in Figure 2 which are shown vertically in section.

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The final element of spatial data was obtained from the English Heritage National Mapping Programme. The goal of this programme is to map as accurately as possible using a range of digital techniques all of the earthworks and crop marks that are visible from aerial photography for selected areas in England, which includes the Ridgeway study area. This provides a highly detailed plan of all suspected features in the landscape, and is particularly useful for showing the massive amounts of ancient field systems in the region, as well as a range of possibly diagnostic feature and site types (as shown in Figure 1-4). As much as was possible, the features that are visible on the AP’s were identified based upon the SMR data, and the known characteristics of different site and monument types. The end result of this all is a fully digital landscape, containing a wide range of data, from detailed object level information from the Uffington and Segsbury excavations, to the entire plans of sites, and all visible earthworks. Over this, all the entries for the SMR related to site and material culture can be distributed. This collection is all part of the same digital entity, and allows for a wide range of data queries and manipulation to occur, as well as spatial analysis on a landscape level. This serves as the basis for both the intra- and inter-site analysis.

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Figure 1-4. The case study area in Southern Britain showing all the digitally mapped and located surface features. All of the excavated features contain up to object level databases, which can be queried across the landscape, as well as in section.

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Final thoughts Using this theoretical and methodological framework, it was possible to trace changing patterns of social organization across the downlands of Southern Britain through the Iron Age into the Romano-British period. The results of more focused analysis on ceramics use and deposition within a number of enclosed sites corroborated with the wider landscape use to support the theory that there was an increasing regulation of land use from the late Bronze Age through the Iron Age, and a subsequent formalization of repeated sets of land use from the later Iron Age into the Romano-British period. The content and composition of earlier deposits indicated that there was more ephemeral and sporadic use of large hilltop enclosures, most likely connected with pastoral land use. The deposits within some of these same enclosures shifted to more to include more localized material culture, and indications of semi-permanent behaviour. This is of particular interest in this chapter because if the analysis of the hilltop sites was restricted to consideration of the earthworks, it would not have been possible to chart changing social practices. It is not the purpose of this chapter to go into great detail about the nature of the archaeology, but rather to highlight the importance of rethinking how we use excavated data within landscape or regional studies. Especially in areas where there has been a relatively high density of archaeological field work done. It is essential within the current rethinking of regional analysis to concentrate greater efforts on using both theoretical developments and technological advancements to further reduce the dichotomy between regional and site-specific analysis.

Endnotes 1

Perhaps it is more accurate to say that the term landscape archaeology has become used to convey more ‘theoretically informed’ aspects of regional analysis. There is not a satisfactory explanation in the literature of how the two things are or should be differentiated. In this chapter, I default to landscape, but see this as part of regional analysis. 2 For a more comprehensive discussion of the history of IT in archaeology, see Tschan and Daly 2000. 3 And certainly the results have been most interesting and have allowed for the application of rigorous methodologies to areas of thought once previously confined to the purely theoretical. 4 At the time of writing this paper, Voxel Analyst is no longer available, which further underscores the point that software specific capabilities are not ideal

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discipline wide solutions, and the real issue lies in the conceptual ordering and understanding of datasets. 5 In GIS parlance, 2.5D is used to describe planes that have three dimensions (X, Y, and Z) that are used to create a continuous surface. This is very useful for modelling and representing terrain, but it does not have the capacity to deal with space as a container, and therefore is limited to 2.5D rather than true 3D space. 6 Artefacts are either assigned and aggregated based on the spatial characteristics of the unit from where they were excavation (context, spit, locus, etc.) and/or each artefact has its spatial characteristics recorded separately. 7 Based only upon plans as published. 8 Names of specific software terminology and commands are shown in all capital letters. 9 Most features are identified by the context number of the cut, as the majority of features are intrusive. 10 The EVENT THEME command in ARC/VIEW allows data that is stored in a database, that has geographic coordinates as part of the data, to be opened spatially and saved as a SHAPEFILE.

Works Cited Allen, K. M. S., S. W. Green and E. B. W. Zubrow, 1990. Interpreting Space: GIS and archaeology. London: Taylor and Francis. Ancona, M, D. Doredo, V. Gianuzzi, C. Fierro, V. Tine and A. Traverso, 1999. Mobile Computing for Real Time Support in Archaeological Excavations. In L. Dingwall, S. Exon, V. Gaffney, S. Lafin and M. van Leusen (eds.) Archaeology in the Age of the Internet. Computer Applications and Quantitative Methods in Archaeology, Proceedings of the 25th Anniversary Conference, University of Birmingham, April 1997, p. 279. Austin, T., D. Robinson, and K. Westcott, 2001. A digital future for our excavated past. In Z. Stanþiþ and T. Veljanovski (eds.) Computing archaeology for understanding the past: CAA 2000: computer applications and quantitative methods in archaeology: proceedings of the 28th Conference, Ljubljana, April 2000 BAR International Series 931, pp. 289 – 296, Oxford: Archaeopress. Avern, G. 2002. Reconstructions of the excavations of two Iron Age chariot burials from Belgium: applying virtual reality to old excavation data. In G. Burenhult (ed.) Archaeological informatics: Pushing the Envelope CAA 2001: computer applications and quantitative methods in archaeology. Proceedings of the 29th conference, Gotland, April 2001, BAR International Series 1016, pp. 157-162, Oxford: Archaeopress. —. 2001. A new technique for recording archaeological excavations:

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research progress report. In Z. Stanþiþ and T. Veljanovski (eds.) Computing archaeology for understanding the past: CAA 2000: computer applications and quantitative methods in archaeology: proceedings of the 28th Conference, Ljubljana, April 2000. BAR International Series 931, pp. 3-8, Oxford: Archaeopress. Barrett, J. 2001. Agency, the Duality of Structure, and the problem of the Archaeological Record. In I. Hodder (ed.) Archaeological Theory Today, pp. 141-164. Cambridge: Polity Press. Beck, A. 2000. Intellectual excavation and dynamic Information Management Systems. In G. Lock and K. Brown (eds.) On the Theory and Practice of Archaeological Computing, pp. 73-88. Oxford: Oxford University Committee for Archaeology Monograph. Bell, T. and G. Lock, 2000. Topographic and Cultural Influences on Walking the Ridgeway in Later Prehistoric Times. In G. Lock (ed.) Beyond the Map: Archaeology and Spatial Technologies, pp. 85-100. Amsterdam: IOS Press. Biswell, S., L. Cropper, J. Evans, V. Gaffney and P. Leach, 1995. GIS and excavation: a cautionary tale from Shepton Mallet, Somerset, England. In G. Lock and Z. Stanþiþ (eds.) Archaeology and Geographic Information Systems: a European Perspective, pp. 269-285. London: Taylor and Francis. Boast, R., and D. Chapman, 1991. SQL and hypertext generation of stratigraphic adjacency matrices. In K. Lockyear and S. Rahtz (eds.) Computer Applications and Quantitative Methods in Archaeology 1990. BAR International Series 565, pp. 43 -51, Oxford: Tempus Reparatum. Csaki, G., E. Jerem and F. Redo, 1995. Data recording and GIS applications in landscape and intra-site analysis: case studies in progress at the Archaeological Institute of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences. In G. Lock and Z. Stanþiþ (eds.) Archaeology and Geographic Information Systems: a European Perspective, pp. 85-99. London: Taylor and Francis. Daly, P. and G. Lock, 2004. Time, Space, and Landscape Archaeology: Constructing Connections in the 1st Millennium BC. In M. Goodchild and D. Janelle (eds.) Spatially Integrated Social Science: Examples in Best Practice, pp. 349-365. Oxford: Oxford University Press Dekoli, M. and T. Hadzilacos, 1999. A GIS and Hypertext based system for excavation documentation. In L. Dingwall, S. Exon, V. Gaffney, S. Lafin and M. van Leusen (eds.) Archaeology in the Age of the Internet. Computer Applications and Quantitative Methods in Archaeology, Proceedings of the 25th Anniversity Conference, University of

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Birmingham, April 1997, BAR International Series 750, p. 279. Oxford: Tempus Repartum. Desachy, B., and F. Djindjian, 1991. Matrix processing of stratigraphic graphs: a new method. In K. Lockyear and S. Rahtz (eds.) Computer Applications and Quantitative Methods in Archaeology 1990, pp. 29– 38. BAR International Series 565, Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Evans, C. J. 1999. Computer usage in post-excavation: what do we really, really, really want? (Abstract) In L. Dingwall, S. Exon, V. Gaffney, S. Lafin and M. van Leusen (eds.) Archaeology in the Age of the Internet. Computer Applications and Quantitative Methods in Archaeology, Proceedings of the 25th Anniversity Conference, University of Birmingham, April 1997. Evans, T. and P. Daly (eds.), 2006. Digital Archaeology. London: Routledge Frachetti, M. 2006. Digital Archaeology and the Scalar Structure of Space and Time: Modeling Mobile Societies of Prehistoric Central Asia. In T. Evans and P. Daly (eds.) Digital Archaeology, pp. 128-147. London: Routledge. Fronza, V., A. Nardini, F. Salzotti and M. Valenti, 2001. A GIS solution for Excavations: experience of the Siena University LIAAM. In Z. Stanþiþ and T. Veljanovski (eds.) Computing archaeology for understanding the past: CAA 2000: computer applications and quantitative methods in archaeology: proceedings of the 28th Conference, Ljubljana, April 2000, BAR International Series 931, pp. 173–178. Oxford: Archaeopress. Gaffney, V. and Z. Stanþiþ, 1991. GIS approaches to regional analysis: A case study of the island of Hvar, Znanstveni inštitut Filozofske fakultete, University of Ljubljana, Yugoslavia, (reprinted 1996). Gaffney, V. and P.M. van Leusen, 1995. GIS, environmental determinism and archaeology. In G. Lock and Z. Stanþiþ (eds.), Archaeology and Geographic Information Systems: a European Perspective, pp. 367382. London: Taylor & Francis. Giddens, A. 1984. The Constitution of Society: an Outline of the Theory of Structuration. Berkley: University of California Press. Gosden, C. and G. Lock, 1997. Hillsforts of the Ridgeway Project: Excavations at Segsbury Camp 1996. South Midlands Archaeology 27: 69-77. Gosden, C. and G. Lock, 1998. Prehistoric Histories. World Archaeology 30(1): 2-12. The Past in the Past. Gosden, C. and G. Lock, 1999. Hillforts of the Ridgeway Project:

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excavations at Alfred’s Castle 1998. South Midlands Archaeology 28: 44-53. Gosden, C. and G. Lock, 2001. Hillforts of the Ridgeway Project: excavations at Alfred’s Castle 2000. South Midlands Archaeology. 31: 80-89. Gosden, C. 1994. Social Being and Time. Oxford: Blackwell. Herzog, I. 1995. Combining Stratigraphic information and finds. J. Wilcock and K. Lockyear (eds.) Computer Applications and Quantitative Methods in Archaeology 1993, BAR International Series 598, pp. 109– 114. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Herzog, I. and I. Scollar, 1991. A new graph theoretical oriented program for Harris Matrix analysis. In K. Lockyear and S. Rahtz (eds.) Computer Applications and Quantitative Methods in Archaeology 1990. BAR International Series 565, pp. 53–60. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Hinchliffe, J. and J. Jefferies, 1985. Ten years of data–processing in the Central Archaeological Unit. In M. Cooper and J. Richards (eds.) Current Issues in Archaeological Computing. BAR International Series 271, pp. 17-22. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Kamermans, H., M. Verbruggen and J. Schenk, 1995. Who will make the drawings? In J. Wilcock and K. Lockyear (eds.) Computer Applications and Quantitative Methods in Archaeology 1993. BAR International Series 598, pp. 127–132. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Kohler, T. A. and S. C. Parker, 1986. Predictive models for archaeological resource location. In M. B. Schiffer (ed.) Advances in Archaeological Method and Theory, Vol. 9, pp. 397-452. New York: Academic Press. Llobera, M. 1996. Exploring the topography of mind: GIS, social space and archaeology. Antiquity 70: 612-22. Llobera, M. 2000. Understanding movement: a pilot model towards the sociology of movement. In G. Lock (ed.) Beyond the Map: Archaeology and Spatial Technologies, pp. 65-84. Amsterdam: IOS Press. Lock, G., A. Cromarty, D. Miles, S. Palmer, C. Gosden and S. Raven, 2003. Investigations at White Horse Hill, Uffington and Tower Hill Ashbury: The Development of Ancestral Landscapes. Thames Valley Landscape Monograph 18. Oxford: Oxford Archaeology. Lock, G. and C. Gosden, 1997. Hillforts of the Ridgeway Project: excavations on White Horse Hill 1995. South Midlands Archaeology 27: 64-69. Lock, G. and C. Gosden, 1998. The Hillforts of the Ridgeway Project:

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excavations at Segsbury Camp 1997. South Midlands Archaeology 28: 53-63. Lock, G. and C. Gosden, 2000. The Hill-forts of the Ridgeway Project: excavations at Alfred’s Castle 1999. South Midlands Archaeology 30: 82-90. Lock, G. 2001. Theorising the practice or practicing the theory: archaeology and GIS. Archaeologia Polona 39: 153-164. Main, P., T. Higgins, A. Walter, A. Roberts and M. Leese, 1995. Using a three–dimensional digitizer and CAD software to record and reconstruct a Bronze Age fissure burial. In J. Wilcock and K. Lockyear (eds.) Computer Applications and Quantitative Methods in Archaeology 1993. BAR International Series 598, pp. 133-142. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Main, P., A. Spence and A. Higgins, 1995. Computer aided design techniques for the graphical modelling of data from the prehistoric site of Runnymede, Berkshire. In J. Huggett and N. Ryan (eds.) Computer Applications and Quantitative Methods in Archaeology 1994. BAR International Series 600, pp. 235-244. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Messika, N. 1999. Real time, in situ; computerized graphic documentation in archaeological excavation. In J. Barcelo, I. Briz and A. Vila (eds.), New Techniques for Old Times: CAA 98. Computer Applications and Quantitative Methods in Archaeology. Proceedings of the 26th Conference, Barcelona, March 1998, BAR International Series S757, pp. 81-84. Oxford: Archaeopress. Nigro, J., F. Limp, K. Kvamme, D. de Ruiter and L. Berger, 2002. The creation and potential applications of a 3–dimensional GIS for the early hominid site of Swartkrans, South Africa. In G. Burenhult (ed.) Archaeological informatics: Pushing the Envelope CAA 2001: computer applications and quantitative methods in archaeology. Proceedings of the 29th conference, Gotland, April 2001, BAR S1016. pp. 113-124. Oxford: Archaeopress. Richards, J. 1991. Computers as an aid to post-excavation interpretation. In S. Ross, J. Moffett and J. Henderson (eds.) Computing for Archaeologists. Oxford University Committee for Archaeology Monograph No. 18, pp. 171-186. Oxford: Oxford University Archaeology. Ryan, N. 1988. Browsing through the stratigraphic record. In S. Rahtz (ed.) Computer and Quantitative Methods in Archaeology 1988. BAR International Series 446 ii, pp. 327-334. Oxford: Archaeopress. Ryan, N. 1995. The excavation archive as hyperdocument? In J. Huggett,

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J. and N. Ryan (eds.) Computer Applications and Quantitative Methods in Archaeology 1994. BAR International Series 600, pp. 211220. Oxford, Archaeopress. Ryan, N., J. Pascoe and D. Morse. 1999. FieldNote: extending a GIS into the field. In J. Barcelo, I. Briz and A. Vila, 1999. New Techniques for Old Times: CAA 98. Computer Applications and Quantitative Methods in Archaeology, Proceedings of the 26th Conference, Barcelona, March 1998, BAR S757, pp. 127-132. Oxford: Archaeopress. Semeraro, G. 1993. The excavation archive: an integrated system for the management of cartographic and alphanumeric data. In J. Andresen, T. Madsen and I. Scollar (eds.) Computing the Past: Computer Applications and Quantitative Methods in Archaeology CAA 92, pp. 205-220. Aarhus: Aarhus University Press. Tilley, C. 1994. A Phenomenology of Landscape. Oxford: Berg Tschan, A. and P. Daly, 2000. Is there such a thing as ‘Computer Archaeology’? In G. Lock (ed.) On the Theory and Practice of Archaeological Computing, pp 133-154. Oxford: Oxford University School of Archaeology. Uotila, K. and C. Tulkki, 2002. Three-dimensional excavation plans and 3D Studio Max: experiences from the excavations of the medieval town of Naantali, Finland. In G. Burenhult (ed.) Archaeological informatics: Pushing the Envelope CAA 2001: computer applications and quantitative methods in archaeology. Proceedings of the 29th conference, Gotland, April 2001. BAR S1016, pp. 427-430. Oxford: Archaeopress. Wheatley, D. W. 1993. Going over old ground: GIS, archaeological theory and the act of perception. In J. Andresen, T. Madsen and I. Scollar (eds.) Computing the Past: Computer Applications and Quantitative Methods in Archaeology CAA92, pp. 133-138. Aarhus: Aarhus University Press. Wheatley, D. W. 2000. Spatial technology and archaeological theory revisited. In K. Lockyear, T.J.T. Sly and V. Mihăilescu-Bîrliba (eds.) CAA96 Computer Applications and Quantitative Methods in Archaeology. BAR International Series 845, pp. 123-132. Oxford: Archaeopress. Wheatley, D. W. and M. Gillings, 2000. Vision, perception and GIS: developing enriched approaches to the study of archaeological visibility, in G. Lock (ed.) Beyond the Map: Archaeology and Spatial Technologies, pp. 1-27. Amsterdam: IOS Press. Williams, T. 1991. The use of computers in post-excavation and publication work at the Department of Urban Archaeology, Museum of London. In

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S. Ross, J. Moffett and J. Henderson (eds.) Computing for Archaeologists. Oxford University Committee for Archaeology Monograph No. 18, pp. 187-200. Oxford: Oxford School of Archaeology. Zhukovsky, M. 2002. Handling digital 3–D record of archaeological excavation data. In G. Burenhult (ed.) Archaeological informatics: Pushing the Envelope CAA 2001: computer applications and quantitative methods in archaeology. Proceedings of the 29th conference, Gotland, April 2001 BAR S1016, pp. 431-440. Oxford: Archaeopress. Zhukovsky, M. 2001. Virtual 3D reconstruction of the Kiafar site, North Caucasus, Russia. In Z. Stanþiþ and T. Veljanovski (eds.) Computing archaeology for understanding the past: CAA 2000: computer applications and quantitative methods in archaeology: proceedings of the 28th Conference, Ljubljana, April 2000 BAR International Series 931, pp.297-302. Oxford: Archaeopress. Zubrow, E. B. W. 1994. Knowledge representation and archaeology: a cognitive example using GIS. In C. Renfrew and E. B. W. Zubrow (eds.) The Ancient Mind: Elements of Cognitive Archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp.107-118. Zubrow, E. B. W. 2006. Digital Archaeology: The Historical Context. In T. Evans and P. Daly (eds.) Digital Archaeology: Bridging Method and Theory, pp. 10-31. London, New York: Routledge.

CHAPTER TWO SOCIO-POLITICAL DYNAMICS IN LATER PREHISTORIC IRELAND: INSIGHTS FROM THE POLLEN RECORD GILL PLUNKETT

Introduction Since the early 20th century, palaeoenvironmental research in Ireland has contributed a great deal to our knowledge of past human activity, notably in relation to diet, disease and living conditions. Pollen analysis, in particular, has a long history of research and has significantly highlighted the impact of humans on their wider environment, greatly complementing and at times surpassing the archaeological record. Indeed, the pollen record may be the only means by which to identify human activity during phases of low archaeological visibility. In southwest Ireland, for instance, woodland clearance and cereal cultivation recorded in the pollen record for a long time provided the only evidence for an Earlier Neolithic presence in this region (Lynch 1981). Moreover, the recognition of possible cereal cultivation in pollen records across Britain and Ireland as early as 48004500 cal BC (Groenman-van Waateringe 1983; Williams 1989) has generated considerable debate about our understanding of Neolithic "culture" and its dispersal (e.g. Zvelebil and Rowley-Conwy 1986; Thomas 1988). From an archaeological perspective, pollen data have generally helped identify the nature of past land-use (forest disturbance or clearance, the establishment of pastures, cereal cultivation, abandonment) but at a more general level, they can be used to infer changes in demographic and settlement patterns (cf. Weir 1993b: 21). Surprisingly, however, attempts to synthesise pollen information from Ireland as a means of informing our understanding past cultural change have been few (O'Connell et al. 2001;

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Plunkett in press) although the potential for this line of investigation was recognised more than 70 years ago. “It is no fantastic vision to foresee the day – distant as it may be – when archaeology and natural science combined will draw up the settlement maps of prehistoric Ireland for all consecutive periods. Then, and only then, can we try to form opinions on the origin, cultural outfit, and communal and tribal life of the earliest settlers, their development (stationary or otherwise), migrations, admixtures, conquests and absorption” (Mahr 1934: 140-141).

This paper considers the contribution that pollen records can make to studies of the later prehistoric period – encompassing the Late Bronze Age and Iron Age – in Ireland, a time when major changes are evident in the archaeological record that hint at the emergence of distinct cultural identities and possibly socio-political territories. At the end of this period, a detailed picture of social hierarchy, settlement and land-use patterns can be drawn up from early literary texts. Having been removed from the direct influence of the Roman Conquest, Early Medieval Ireland's individuality was borne from largely insular developments. Notwithstanding major changes in material culture and a low visibility and discontinuous archaeological record of settlement and burial, is it possible to discern elements of socio-political organisation in the later prehistoric period that may have influenced the social and political structures that existed in the mid-first millennium AD? The following interpretations are based on a selection of pollen records with good sample resolution (i.e. resolved to decades rather than centuries) and reasonable dating control. It must be stressed, however, that some of the most important pollen sequences in terms of the vegetation histories they reveal, such as that Mooghaun (Molloy 2005), are based on few dated horizons, or, in the case of Loughnashade (Weir 1993a, 1993b), comparisons with other pollen records. Even where important events are independently dated by 14C, calibrated age ranges can span two or more centuries, and this impedes the correlation of pollen records from multiple sites. Imprecision in the dating of vegetation changes can, therefore, greatly alter our perception of land-use and settlement patterns. Future studies may yet reveal greater disparities in the nature of Later Prehistoric land-use than those presented in this paper, particularly if dating control can be refined for critical changes in the environment, and we must adapt our understanding of their meaning accordingly. It is hoped, nevertheless, to demonstrate that the archaeological and pollen records combined can

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significantly enhance our engagement with past cultural change. The locations of pollen sites cited in the text are illustrated in Figure 2-1 and the main archaeological sites and site types discussed are shown in Figure 2-2.

Figure 2-1. Location of pollen studies cited in the text. 1. Cashelkeelty, Co. Kerry (Lynch 1981); 2. Mount Gabriel, Co. Kerry (Mighall & Lageard 1999; Timpany et al. 2002); 3. Magillicuddy's Reeks, Co. Kerry (Anderson et al. 2004); 4. Moyreen, Co. Limerick (Plunkett in press); 5. Derryville, Co. Tipperary (Caseldine et al. 2005); 6. Mooghaun Lough and Caherkine Lough, Co. Clare (O'Connell et al. 2001; Molloy 2005); 7. An Loch Mór, Co. Galway (Molloy & O'Connell 2004; 2005); 8. Lios Lairthín Mór, Co. Clare (Jeliþiü & O'Connell 1992); 9. Ballinphuill, Co. Galway (Molloy et al. in press); 10. Abbeyknockmoy, Co. Galway (LomasClarke & Barber 2004); 11. Oldcroghan, Co. Offaly (Plunkett et al. 2009); 12. Toar Bog, Co. Westmeath (Plunkett unpublished); 13. Mongan, Co. Offaly (Parkes & Mitchell 200); 14. Corlea, Co. Longford (Caseldine et al. 1996); 15. Lough Sheeauns, Co. Galway (Molloy and O'Connell 1991); 16. Derryinver Hill, Co. Galway (Molloy & O'Connell 1993); 17. Lough Fark, Co. Mayo (Fuller 2002); 18.

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Owenduff, Co. Mayo (Plunkett in press); 19. Céide Fields, Co. Mayo (Molloy & O'Connell 1995); 20. Lough Doo, Co. Mayo (O'Connell et al. 1997); 21. Carrownaglogh, Co. Mayo (O'Connell 1990); 22. Glen West, Co. Fermanagh (Plunkett in press); 23. Claraghmore, Co. Tyrone (Plunkett in press); 24. Beaghmore, Co. Tyrone (Pilcher 1969); 25. Garry, Co. Antrim (Plunkett in press); 26. Sluggan, Co. Antrim (Smith & Goddard 1991; Plunkett in press); 27. Long Lough, Co. Down (Hall 1990); 28. Loughnashade, Co. Armagh (Weir 1993a, 1993b); 29. Red Bog, Co. Louth (Weir 1995); 30. Emlagh Bog, Co. Meath (Newman et al. 2007).

Figure 2-2. Location of principal archaeological site and site types referred to in the text. Hillforts with definite Late Bronze Age origins: 1. Corrstown village, Co.

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Derry; 2. Haughey's Fort, Co. Armagh; 3. Rathgall, Co. Wicklow; 4. Rahally, Co. Galway; 5. Dún Aonghasa, Co. Galway; 6. Mooghaun hillfort, Co. Clare. Late Bronze Age wetland settlements: 7. Killymoon, Co. Tyrone; 8. Lough Eskragh, Co. Tyrone; 9. Island MacHugh, Co. Tyrone; 10. Moynagh Lough, Co. Meath; 11. Rathtinaun, Co. Longford; 12. Ballinderry 2, Co. Westmeath; 13. Clonfinlough, Co. Offaly; 14. Knocknalappa, Co. Clare. Early Iron Age "royal" sites: 15. Navan Fort, Co. Armagh; 16. Rathcroghan, Co. Tyrone; 17. Tara, Co. Meath; 18. Knockaulin, Co. Kildare. Early Iron Age linear earthworks: 19. Dorsey, Co. Armagh; 20. Black Pig's Dyke, County Monaghan; 21. Doon of Drumsna, Co. Roscommon; 22. An Claidh Dubh, Co. Cork.

Settlement centres in the Middle to Late Bronze Age From the beginning of the Bronze Age in Ireland, pollen records indicate a greater frequency and increasingly wide pressure on the landscape in the form of woodland clearance. Upland areas, in particular, are generally thought to have suffered from soil degradation, leading to the widespread expansion of blanket bog (Smith 1975). This record of landuse is frequently punctuated, however, by intervals of woodland regeneration, during which specific areas appear to have been abandoned. Evidence for Middle Bronze Age (c. 1700-1200 cal BC) farming can be found extensively across the island (Pilcher 1969; Lynch 1981; O'Connell 1990; Molloy and O'Connell 1993, 1995; Weir 1993, 1995; Caseldine et al. 1996, 2005; Mighall and Lageard 1999; Timpany et al. 2002; Anderson et al. 2004; Molloy 2005). These findings accord well with the archaeological record, which demonstrates a considerable expansion of human activity during this period in the form of wetland archaeological sites, including trackways and settlements (Ó Néill and Plunkett 2006; Plunkett and McDermott 2007), and fulachta fiadh (Ó Néill 2005a, Figure 4), a ubiquitous, albeit enigmatic, type site found throughout Ireland and dating mainly from the Bronze Age. The Middle to Late Bronze Age "village" at Corrstown, Co. Derry, comprising more than 60 regularly laid out houses (Conway et al. 2005) represents a singular example of highly nucleated prehistoric settlement in the Irish archaeological record. It is unfortunate that no palynological studies have yet been conducted in the vicinity of this site. From the late thirteenth century, corresponding to the opening of the Late Bronze Age, however, there are signs in the pollen records that farming is curtailed in many areas, with the expansion of woodland apparent at Garry, Sluggan, Glen West and Owenduff (Plunkett in press), Beaghmore (Pilcher 1969), Céide Fields (Molloy and O'Connell 1995),

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Derryville (Caseldine et al. 2005) and Mooghaun Lough (Molloy 2005). The numbers of fulachta fiadh also seem to wane at this time (Ó Néill 2005a, Figure 4). This reduction in human activity is broadly concurrent with a decline in metalwork production and/or hoarding that corresponds to Eogan's (1964, Figure 3) Roscommon Phase. On the other hand, hillforts begin to be constructed from at least the 12th century BC. Such monuments have been classified on the basis of their enclosing earthworks and hilltop locations, but there the similarities appear to stop, as excavations have revealed substantial variability in the features represented within the sites and there is no consensus on what the function of the sites might have been. The refined dating of some sites, such as Dún Aonghasa (Cotter 1993, 1996) and Rathgall (Raftery 1973, 1976, 1994), has been hampered by 14C calibration plateaux at c. 1200-900 cal. BC and 800-400 cal. BC. Age estimates for the construction of Haughey's Fort based on multiple radiocarbon assays and assisted by dendrochronology, are in the range of 1100 cal. BC (Mallory 1995; Baillie and Brown 1998). A short, main occupancy of about100 years has been proposed on the basis of environmental evidence from the ditch fills, with a decline in activity by c. 1047-941 cal BC and complete abandonment by 841-806 cal BC (Mallory 1995: 75). Inside the hillfort, excavations revealed complex series of stake-holes and pits, while enhanced aerial photography detected the possible existence of two large circular timber enclosures (Mallory 1995). Although the enclosing ditches suggest a defensive function, it is not clear whether the internal evidence signifies settlement or some other type of activity. Large caches of charred barley grains in a fully processed state were recovered, indicating grain storage (Weir 1993a: 206). Perhaps not surprisingly, therefore, at Loughnashade, a small lake 1km to the east of Haughey's Fort, Weir (1993a) records an extensive opening up of the landscape at 1409-1265 cal BC that is maintained until c. 1000 cal BC. Unfortunately, the chronology of the Loughnashade sequence is limited by a lack of independent, refined 14C dates, but the pollen record nevertheless indicates that the locality was the focus of substantial human activity some time before the construction of the hillfort. Could this be an indication of population concentration this area and the rise of an elite? Arguably, the most telling pollen data are those from the vicinity of Mooghaun hillfort. Mooghaun is the largest and most important hillfort in a region that features a high concentration of later prehistoric hilltop enclosures (Grogan 2005a: 29). Internally, several roundhouses were

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identified and occupation layers produced a rich assemblage of coarse pottery and domestic animal bone (Grogan 2005a). The pollen record from Mooghaun Lough, a small closed lake system 750m to the north-east of the fort, shows that a major land clearance began around the lake at around 1100 cal BC and intensified in the period between 1000-750 cal BC (O'Connell et al. 2001; Molloy 2005). Reduced farming pressure is evident from an increase in woodland representation from 750 cal BC until ca. 500 cal. BC. Approximately 1km to the east, and separated from the Mooghaun catchment by a low ridge, a pollen profile from Caherkine Lough presents a different picture of the contemporary landscape, with little evidence for this intense farming activity (O'Connell et al. 2001). The contrast between the two pollen records demonstrates that the focus of Late Bronze Age activity was clearly confined to the vicinity of Mooghaun Lough and the fort. The construction and occupation of the hillfort has recently been closely dated to c. 900 cal BC (Grogan 2005a: 240), however, illustrating that it evidently emerged subsequent to the initial concentration of activity in this locality and during a period in which numerous other "high-status" sites began to appear (see below). A substantial Late Bronze Age hoard comprising more than 146 gold objects, mainly personal ornaments , was discovered near the site in the nineteenth century (Eogan 1983: 69-72), and indeed the wider region boasts a high density of hoards of regionally-distinctive fine metalwork (Grogan 2005a: 26-27) dating to the latter part of the Late Bronze Age. At Moyreen, substantial human activity commences c. 1220 cal BC, and lasts until c. 870 cal BC, at which time there is a brief resurgence of woodland (Plunkett in press). Dated with the aid of tephrochronology, the age of the Moyreen sequence is particularly well-refined in the earlier first millennium BC. The pattern of changes, including an intensification of clearance at c. 1110 cal BC and a decline in arable indicators at c. 950 cal BC, is reminiscent of that seen at Mooghaun Lough, although the timing of the activity seems to be out of phase at the two sites by about a century. It is worth noting that Moyreen is located within 10 km of Ballylin, the largest of all hillforts in this region (Cody 1981), and within 3 km of a hilltop enclosure at Shanad Upper. Although neither enclosure is dated, such sites increasingly seem to be of Late Bronze Age date. In contrast to the general trend for reduced human pressure on the landscape and coinciding with declines in fulachta fiadh and metalwork production/disposal, these few pollen records are starting to suggest that the opening of the Late Bronze Age may have witnessed a contraction of

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population to key areas (Figure 2-3). The construction of hillforts may mark the establishment of elite centres within these core areas.

Settlement expansion in the early first millennium BC The final floruit of Ireland's Late Bronze Age, during which tremendous creativity and productivity is evident in the material record between c. 1000-600 cal BC, comprises what is generally known as the Dowris Phase (Eogan 1964: 293). During this time, we see a major increase in expressions of ceremonial/ritual activity represented by metalwork production and hoard deposition. In the southwest of Ireland, stone circles and boulder burials are constructed although these traditions may stretch back into the preceding centuries (O'Brien 2004). The material culture demonstrates in its form and distribution well-established connections with Britain and continental Europe, but regional and subregional productions areas have also been identified within Ireland, specifically in the northeast, the midlands and the southwest, each illustrating its own particular connections with the external world (Eogan 1993: 125-131; Grogan 2005b: 145). Hoards of fine bronze and gold ornaments, weaponry and ceremonial objects (such as bronze horns, the enigmatic 'crotals' and cauldrons) deposited principally in wet contexts (bogs or rivers) comprise the main body of metalwork from this time. Indeed the central role of wetland places, so widespread in Ireland, is reflected by an increasing level of bog and lakeside occupation sites, many of which—such as Knocknalappa (Raftery 1942; Grogan et al. 1999), Ballinderry 2 (Hencken 1942), Rathtinaun (Raftery 1994), Lough Eskragh (Williams 1978), Island MacHugh (Ivens et al. 1986) and Killymoon (Hurl 1996)—appear to have an element of high status, if their association with fine metalwork is any indication of their social standing. Others, such as Clonfinlough (Moloney et al. 1993), on the other hand, yielded very little material finds. The defensive aspects of the sites are generally negligible and this is unlikely to have been a factor in their occupation (Lynn 1983: 54; pace O'Sullivan 1998: 94). Although structurally diverse, the occupation of lake margins at this time can be seen as part of a wider European phenomenon (Kimmig 1992: 19). An increase in the number of bog trackways and fulachta fiadh from the 10th century BC supports the notion of a general expansion of population through the landscape (Plunkett and McDermott 2007: 290; Ó Néill 2005a, Figure 4). Certain hillforts, such as Mooghaun Fort and Rahally Fort (Mullins 2007), were clearly constructed in the early part of the Dowris Phase, and

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others, such as Haughey's Fort, continued to be the focus of some activity during the same period. There are hints from the pollen record that a possible hillfort at Croghan Hill may also be an example of an early Dowris Phase occupation site. In its vicinity, a pollen sequence from Oldcroghan, located only 2km to the south, indicates a very open landscape from at least 1000 cal BC, with intense activity continuing up until c. 840 cal BC (Plunkett et al. 2009). This record does not extend back earlier than late 10th century BC, and so the timing of the initial clearance is not known. Nearby at Toar Bog, however, a similar clearance is recorded (Plunkett unpublished), and commences shortly after the deposition of the Hekla 3 tephra which has been dated to 1087-1006 cal BC (van den Bogaard et al. 2002). It is reasonable, therefore, to suggest that the activity in this area increased in the 11th to 10th centuries BC. Elsewhere across Ireland from about 1000 cal BC, evidence for woodland clearance is widespread. At Cashelkeelty, an intensification of farming can be seen from this time (Lynch 1981), while at Derryville (Caseldine et al. 2005), and Ballinphuill (Molloy et al. in press), an opening up of the landscape is recorded. At Carrownaglogh (O'Connell 1990), and Lough Sheeauns (Molloy and O'Connell 1991), large-scale clearances occur until the mid-8th century. Particularly strong evidence for human activity is seen from 1050 cal BC at An Loch Mór on the island of Inis Oírr off the west coast (Molloy and O'Connell 2004; 2007). Weir (1995) notes a pronounced clearance phase at Red Bog, Co. Louth, with a strong indication of arable agriculture. In the north of Ireland, renewed indications of farming activity are evident at Beaghmore (Pilcher 1969), Garry, Sluggan, Claraghmore and Glen West (Plunkett in press). There are some signs in the pollen records that the 8th century BC was a period of landscape change in a number of areas, with woodland regeneration recorded at Carrownaglogh (O'Connell 1990), Lough Sheeauns (Molloy and O'Connell 1991), Mooghaun Lough (Molloy 2005) and Red Bog (Weir 1995), and for a short while at Garry, Sluggan and Glen West (Plunkett in press). This occurs at approximately the time of the Hallstatt C expansion in continental Europe, the cultural influence of which is reflected in Ireland by the style of certain artefact types, notably Class 5 swords (Eogan 1965), chapes and some pins, and could conceivably relate to a socio-economic adjustment of some sort.

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Figure 2-3. Schematic representation of changes in the levels of land clearance (grey curves) and changes in the Later Prehistoric archaeological record in Ireland. Note that the "general" land clearance curve, based on trends interpreted from multiple pollen records from Ireland, fluctuates in tandem with changes in the level of visibility in the archaeological record. Examples of some notable exceptions to these land clearance trends are also shown, including Loughnashade (Weir 1993a, 1993b), Mooghaun (Molloy 2005) and Moyreen (Plunkett in press).

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Overall, the early centuries of the first millennium BC appear to have been characterised by an extensive opening up of the landscape, widespread settlement and substantial economic productivity (Figure 3). The settlement evidence points to a high frequency of prominent sites in the form of hillforts and wetland settlements. Spatial analyses from the southwest Ireland suggest a territorial pattern arranged around smaller hilltop enclosures (Grogan et al. 1996: 41; Grogan 2005a: 87) and it seems that a new settlement pattern developed which centred on smaller, but nevertheless significant, elites. Yet the regionalism evident in metalwork industries hint at the existence, or possible emergence, of multiple cultural identities transcending these individual units and perhaps signifying a higher socio-political order. The maintenance of land clearances generally spanned several generations, but this apparent stability may have been disrupted in the 8th century BC. Unfortunately, there is insufficient dating evidence within the pollen records to ascertain if these disruptions follow any spatio-temporal patterns that might shed light on the stimulus for change.

The dim transition In Ireland, the Late Bronze Age is separated from the ensuing Iron Age by three centuries during which evidence for settlement, material culture, trade and ritual becomes obscure throughout the island (Figure 2-3). Difficulties in the attribution of sites to the period between c. 600-300 cal BC are of course hindered by a prolonged 14C calibration plateau (Champion 1971: 19), but there is undeniably a collapse of the preceding dynamism in metalwork production, and the absence of Hallstatt D type objects suggests that links with Britain and continental Europe were severed (Raftery 1994: 37). There is some evidence that iron technology had reached Ireland by this time, including distinctive axe-marks on dendro-dated track-way timbers from Derryville that show that iron tools were used for utilitarian purposes by c. 630 cal BC (Ó Néill 2005b: 337). Theories regarding the decline of the Late Bronze Age in Ireland remain disputed. A total collapse of society and economy c. 600 BC has been envisaged on the one hand, perhaps as a result of increasingly complex but unsustainable political situations (Scott 1979, p. 200). Alternatively, a restructuring of society in which the role of bronze objects changed has been proposed, with the result that diagnostic remains of the period are simply not as visible as before (Champion 1989, pp. 290, 299). The pollen records suggest, however, that the decline in bronze production

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was accompanied by a radical break-up of the existing settlement patterns, as numerous sequences show reduced human impact on the landscape, including Beaghmore (Pilcher 1969), Cashelkeelty (Lynch 1981), Lough Sheeauns (Molloy and O'Connell 1991), Corlea (Caseldine et al. 1996), Derryville (Caseldine et al. 2005), Emlagh Bog (Newman et al. 2007), Oldcroghan (Plunkett et al. 2009), Garry, Sluggan and Moyreen (Plunkett in press). A total abandonment of land is rarely suggested, however, and there are frequent signs of low-impact activity (Figure 3). Critically, some records have shown a continuation or even intensification of farming during this time, including those from Loughnashade (Weir 1993), An Loch Mór (Molloy and O'Connell 2004, 2007), Mooghaun Lough (Molloy 2005) and Ballinphuill (Molloy et al. in press) – notably all sites in which there was previously a considerable Late Bronze Age presence. Such patterns of land-use and perhaps settlement are reminiscent of those seen in the twelfth and eleventh centuries BC, and whilst there is no archaeological evidence for the construction of prominent earthworks, the status of earlier sites may have been reclaimed.

Iron Age territorialism From c. 300 BC, in the Early Iron Age, a new material culture, showing stylistic affinities with the British and European La Tène cultures, emerges predominantly in the northern two-thirds of the island alongside large-scale ceremonial centres that suggest the establishment of welldefined political territories. Excavations at Navan (Emain Macha) and Knockaulin (Dún Ailinne) show sophisticated features of ceremonial or ritual significance (Wailes 1976, 1982; Lynn 1997) and comparable complexes at Rathcroghan (Cruachain) and Tara (Teamhair) are also possibly contemporary. A dendro-dated central oak post in the "40 metre" structure of Navan is firmly dated to 95 BC (Baillie 1988). These sites are referred to in early Irish mythologies, which tell of a pre-christian heroic age in Ireland believed to relate to the Iron Age, as "royal" centres. Although a “royal” site is not known from southwest Ireland, Woodman (1998) has suggested that the absence of La Tène objects from this area could itself indicate the existence of a regional identity in this area. Another notable site type recorded at this time is the linear earthwork, widely presumed to represent territorial boundaries (Tarzia 1987). Oak timbers from the Dorsey have been dendro-dated to c. 150 BC and c. 95 BC (Baillie 1988; Baillie and Brown 1989), illustrating at least a twophase construction/repair and contemporaneity with Navan, 30km to the

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north. The Dorsey is thought to be a component of the longer Black Pig's Dyke, which can be traced intermittently along the southern extent of the province of Ulster and which has produced a compatible 14C date (Walsh 1987). Similar earthworks are found at the Doon of Drumsna (Condit and Buckley 1989; Lanting et al. 1991) and An Claidh Dubh (Doody 1995). Smaller territories may be represented by shorter stretches of earthworks such as that believed to have delimited the western margin of the Lecale Peninsula, Co. Down, until its destruction in the nineteenth century (Reeves 1847). A further feature of this period, with parallels in other parts of northwest Europe, is the bog body phenomenon. Although bog bodies date to many periods, those of Iron Age date frequently demonstrate evidence of mutilation, suggestive of ritualised death. In Ireland, of the eleven bog bodies that have been independently dated (Brindley and Lanting 1995; Bermingham and Delaney 2006; Mulhall in press), five belong to the latter half of the first millennium BC. It has recently been proposed that Iron Age bog bodies and Late Bronze Age hoards show a tendency to be deposited along locations known to have been tribal boundaries in the Medieval period, pushing back the suggested date for their origins of these territories well into the Later Prehistoric period (Kelly 2006). In contrast to these conspicuous monumental constructions, settlement sites of this period are very poorly attested. They include rather ephemeral structures frequently overlain by later enclosures, numerous coastal middens and a small series of pits and furnaces (Warner et al. 1990; http://archaeology.nra.ie/). The beehive quern, an item arguably linked to domestic activities, was probably introduced during this period but none has been found in a domestic or datable context (Caulfield 1977). Its distribution is exclusively confined to the northern half of the island. This leaves us with a remarkably poor understanding of Iron Age settlement patterns, but it has been suggested that subsistence may have been based on nomadic pastoralism (Armit 2007: 135). Many pollen records show a re-opening of the landscape in the latter centuries BC. At Mooghaun Lough, farming activity increases as early as 500 cal BC (Molloy 2005) but declines in intensity from 300 cal BC at both Mooghaun Lough and the neighbouring Caherkine Lough until the first century AD (O'Connell et al. 2001; Molloy 2005). Elsewhere, renewed woodland clearance is not apparent until the fourth century cal. BC at Sluggan Bog (Plunkett in press) and Lough Sheeauns (Molloy and

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O'Connell 1991), from the 3rd century cal. BC at Corlea (Caseldine et al. 1996), and Derryville (Caseldine et al. 2005), or later still at Carrownaglogh (O'Connell 1986) and Red Bog (Weir 1995). At Ballinphuill, there is an intensification of clearance at c. 300 cal BC (Molloy et al. in press). The burial of a bog body at Oldcroghan seems to coincide approximately with a further phase of woodland clearance in the third century BC (Plunkett et al. 2009), but farming activity must have been concentrated in this area as no such clearance is recorded at nearby Toar Bog (Plunkett unpublished). If the burial does mark the location of a tribal boundary, then it is interesting to note that land-use extended towards the limits of the territory. The timing of these Early Iron Age clearances is clearly variable, but two points are worth noting. Firstly, the earliest episodes are not confined to any one region; secondly, the clearances are not confined to the areas in which La Tène-style metalwork or beehive querns are concentrated. This implies that the impetus for cultural change that represents the Early Iron Age in Ireland cannot be sought in any one locality, or attributed to any one event, but most probably stems from a series of events that at present remain invisible to the archaeological record.

The Dark Age lull This period corresponds nominally to the Late Iron Age, but in reality comprises a “dark age” during which the archaeological record is again muted, save for a limited material culture. The paucity of occupation sites is not remarkable in the settlement record which, as noted above, was already rather meagre in the Early Iron Age. The fall-off in human activity is especially apparent, however, in wetland areas, where the number of archaeological sites during the first half of the millennium is lower than at any time since the Neolithic period (Plunkett and McDermott 2007, Figure 15.5) and this suggests reduced movement through the landscape. This interval corresponds to the period of Roman expansion into Britain, and although Ireland remained outside the Roman Empire, stray finds and a small number of burials illustrate contact of some sort with the Roman world at this time (Raftery 1994: 219). Armit (2007: 137) highlights the mutual distributions of Roman material and knobbed spearbutts in Ireland as a possible expression of an emerging identity arising from contacts with the Roman world.

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The decline of archaeological sites attributable to the early centuries AD is mirrored in numerous pollen records which suggest widespread forest regeneration during this period (Pilcher 1969; O'Connell 1990; Smith and Goddard 1991; Jeliþiü and O'Connell 1992; Weir 1993a; Caseldine et al. 1996, 2005; O'Connell et al. 2001; Parkes and Mitchell 2000; Molloy and O'Connell 1991, 2004; Molloy 2005; Molloy et al. in press; Fig. 3). The Late Iron Age Lull, as it has been called, represents reduced farming pressure on the landscape, although many sites, such as Emlagh Bog (Newman et al. 2007), continue to show low-level land-use, and at Red Bog, the first century AD is marked by the start of a renewed phase of woodland clearance with arable activity. This has led some to suggest that a major population crash must have occurred (Weir 1993b: 107; McCormick 1995: 33). Yet Roman commentaries on the island, although sometimes remarking on the savagery of the natives, do not describe a poorly populated wasteland (see Freeman 1995). Interestingly, while references are made to the excellent grazing available for livestock, Pomponius Mela in the first century AD remarks that the climate is unsuitable for the ripening of grain (Freeman 2001). This latter view does not tie in well with palaeoenvironmental evidence for favourable climatic conditions at this time (Swindles et al. in press), and it is worth considering if such a view could merely a conclusion based on an observed lack of arable production, rather than on the failure of cereals to grow successfully. Another possibility, therefore, may be that sociopolitical and/or economic change prompted a change in settlement, entailing a dispersed pattern of non-intensive subsistence with little or no arable activity and the associated requirement of open fields. It has been argued elsewhere that there may have been a shift towards a more fragmented social hierarchy based on kin groups that is observable in the subsequent centuries (Newman 1998; Armit 2007: 137).

Firmer footing: the early Historic period As we move into the historic period, we are faced with an immense expansion in the settlement record, in the form of raths (also known as ringforts), and crannogs (lake settlements), along with the rise of ecclesiastical sites and a wealth of both secular and religious paraphernalia. Importantly, early Irish texts, the origins of which can be traced back mainly to the 7th or 8th centuries AD, provide us with many insights into the nature of early Medieval (ca. AD 400-1000) social structure and territorialism in Ireland. We know, for instance, that land was divided into túaithe (sing. túath), each overseen by a petty king, three or four of which

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were further ruled by an overking. At the top of the hierarchy existed a provincial king. These túaithe are believed to be the precursors of the present day townlands that represent in Ireland the smallest administrative division. The political centre of each túath was the oenach, an assembly often located on a low hill (Kelly 1997: 360). The literary evidence paints a picture of a predominantly dispersed settlement pattern, with few agglomerations of population, except in areas where large ecclesiastical centres developed. This is borne out by the archaeological record, specifically by the wide distribution of raths, of which there are more than 40,000 examples known, and crannogs. The form of both site types is variable, and it is clear from excavation evidence that certain examples were especially wealthy – these have generally been regarded as "royal" residences. Others, however, produced more humble artefact assemblages and conceivably held a lower status. Evidence from raths places their emergence around the fifth century AD (Kerr 2007: 9899), corresponding approximately to the time in which Christianity starts to become established in Ireland; crannogs were constructed from at least the fourth century BC. Economically, the unit of wealth was measured by cattle, and animal husbandry is well attested in the archaeozoological record. Cultivation was also important, however, and although wheat was considered the most prestigious cereal (see Kelly 1997: 219), archaeobotanical evidence from both secular and ecclesiastical sites consistently show barley and oats to have been the main crops consumed. The expansion in settlement is widely mirrored in most pollen records by an opening up of the landscape (e.g. Pilcher 1969; O’Connell et al. 1987, 1988, 2001; Hall 1990; O'Connell 1990; Smith and Goddard 1991; Jeliþiü and O'Connell 1992; Weir 1993a, 1995; Fuller 2002; Lomas-Clarke and Barber 2004; Molloy 2005; Molloy and O'Connell 2007; Molloy et al. in press). Although the timing of woodland clearance is highly variable, usually occurring sometime between the second and sixth centuries AD, it is clear that the earliest changes in the landscape precede the establishment of Christianity on the island. For the most part, arable activity is more frequently represented than at any time before, and at some sites, such as Loughnashade, cereal pollen reaches unprecedented levels (Weir 1993a). If the socio-political structure of the Early Medieval Ireland had indeed its foundation in the Iron Age, then what does this change in settlement architecture and land-use represent? McCormick (1995) has argued that there was a shift towards a dairying economy from this time, and that the

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enclosed rath served to protect cowherds against raiding over night. But the evidence presented by bog butters – a dairy by-product buried in bogs most probably for storage – shows that dairying was an established element of the Iron Age economy, as most dated finds fall between the period 375 BC-AD 313 (Downey et al. 2006). Rather, it seems, there may have been a gradual return to arable production that ultimately led to more permanence in settlement patterns, culminating in a shift towards enclosed settlements that continued to adhere to a similar heterarchical system as before.

Conclusions The archaeological evidence for Later Prehistoric Ireland is diverse and erratic, with periods of increasing social complexity punctuated by uncertain episodes of low visibility during which the nature of human activity is all but unknown. Pollen records shed some light on changing levels of land-use, and by extrapolation, on settlement patterns throughout this period. Distinct changes in land-use over time can be seen to coincide with successive re-organisations of the socio-political structure (Figure 23). At the outset of the Later Bronze Age, a population contraction to key localities may reflect the emergence of political chiefdoms. This gave way in the early first millennium BC, during the Dowris Phase, to a more fragmented social order, with extensive settlement and a productive economy (subsistence and material) providing a means by which individuals or individual groups could attain status. Yet regional identities existed, indicating social cohesion at a higher level, and these appear to have prevailed at least until the middle of the millennium. Thereafter, it is difficult to envisage the direction of socio-political change although a small number of pollen records hint at a concentration of activity once again in areas that were formerly the focus of Late Bronze Age settlement. This suggests a persistence in the meaning of specific localities that continues into the Early Iron Age despite overt transformations in many aspects of the archaeological record by the latter centuries BC. The new cultural horizon that dominates our understanding of the Early Iron Age is clearly linked to an elite-oriented political structure with a focus on ceremony. Although “royal” sites and linear earthworks tie in with the picture of the large territories expounded in Early Irish mythology, and notwithstanding the absence of La Tène metalwork and beehive querns from the south of Ireland, indications of regional identities are largely undetectable in the material culture. But pollen sequences, in

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contrast to the sparse settlement record, reveal extensive land-use not unlike that seen in the Dowris Phase and indeed subsequently in the Early Medieval Period, and indications of large population concentrations in core localities have not been noted. This elite echelon did not seem, therefore, to have been particularly centralised in any way and an underlying infrastructure for a heterarchical political system may already have been in place by this time. By the Late Iron Age, not only is there a decline in evidence for "communal" undertakings, suggesting perhaps a waning in the command of former elites, but pollen records demonstrate a widespread fall in farming activity. Whilst a population reduction cannot entirely be discounted, the complete fragmentation of social groups with a shift towards a predominantly livestock-based economy could account for the observed changes in both the archaeological and pollen records. Renewed woodland clearances along with arable production in the early centuries AD pre-empt the adoption of enclosed settlements that proliferate in the early historic period, suggesting that changes in subsistence, land-use and settlement combined with an established political order to lay the foundations for a distinctive and prosperous Early Medieval Ireland.

Acknowledgements The author wishes to thank Prof. James Mallory for his comments on an earlier draft of this paper, and Willy Adam for assistance with the illustrations.

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research. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 14: 268-351. —. 1965. Catalogue of Irish Bronze Swords. Dublin: The Stationery Office. —. 1983. Hoards of the Irish Later Bronze Age, Dublin: University College. —. 1993. The Late Bronze Age: customs, crafts and cults. In E. Shee Twohig and M. Ronayne (eds.), Past Perceptions, pp. 121-133, Cork: Cork University Press. Freeman, P. M. 1995. Greek and Roman views of Ireland: a checklist. Emania 13: 11-13. Freeman, P. 2001. Ireland and the Classical World. Austin: University of Texas Press. Fuller, J. 2002. Past vegetation and land-use dynamics in Mayo Abbey, central Mayo. Archaeology Ireland 16(3): 20-23. Groenman-van Waateringe, W. 1983. The early agricultural utilization of the Irish landscape: the last word on the elm decline? In T. ReevesSmyth and F. Hamond (eds.), Landscape Archaeology in Ireland, pp. 217-223, British Archaeological Reports British Series 85, Oxford: Archaeopress. Grogan, E. 2005a. The North Munster Project. Volume 1: The Later Prehistoric Landscape of South-East Clare. Discovery Programme Reports No. 6, Bray: Wordwell. —. 2005b. The North Munster Project. Volume 2: The Prehistoric Landscape of North Munster. Discovery Programme Reports No. 6, Bray: Wordwell. Grogan, E., T. Condit, F. O'Carroll, A. O'Sullivan and A. Daly, 1996. Tracing the late Prehistoric landscape in north Munster. Discovery Programme Reports 4:26-46. Grogan, E., A. O'Sullivan, F. O'Carroll and I. Hagen, 1999. Knocknalappa, Co. Clare: a reappraisal. Discovery Programme Reports 5: 111-123. Hall, V. A. 1990. Recent landscape history from a Co. Down lake deposit. New Phytologist 115: 377-383. Hencken, H. O'N. 1942. Ballinderry Crannog No. 2. Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy 47C: 1-76. Hurl, D. 1995. Killymoon–new light on the Late Bronze Age. Archaeology Ireland 9(4): 24-27. Ivens, R. J., D. D. A. Simpson and D. Brown, 1986. Excavations at Island MacHugh 1985 – interim report. Ulster Journal of Archaeology 49: 99-102. Jeliþiü, L. and M. O'Connell, 1992. History of vegetation and land-use from 3200 B.P. to the present in the north-west Burren, a karstic region

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pp. 255-287. Bray: Wordwell. Molloy, K. and M. O'Connell, 1991. Palaeoecological investigations towards the reconstruction of woodland and land-use history at Lough Sheeauns, Connemara, western Ireland. Review of Palaeobotany and Palynology 67: 75-113. Molloy, K. and M. O'Connell, 1993. Early land use and vegetation history at Derryinver Hill, Renvyle Peninsula, Co. Galway, Ireland. In F. M. Chambers (ed.), Climate Change and Human Impact on the Landscape, pp. 185-199. London: Chapman & Hall. Molloy, K. and M. O'Connell, 1995. Palaeoecological investigations towards the reconstruction of environment and land-use changes during prehistory at Céide Fields, western Ireland. Probleme der Küstenforschung im Südlichen Nordseegebiet 23: 187-225. Molloy, K. and M. O'Connell, 2004. Holocene vegetation and land-use dynamics in the karstic environment of Inis Oírr, Aran Islands, western Ireland: pollen analytical evidence evaluated in light of the archaeological record. Quaternary International 113: 41-64. Molloy, K. and M. O'Connell, 2007. Fresh insights into long-term environmental change on the Aran Islands based on palaeoecological investigations of lake sediments from Inis Oírr. Galway Archaeological and Historical Society Journal 59: 1-17. Molloy, K., I. Feeser and M. O'Connell, in press. A new pollen record from east Galway: fresh insights into farming and woodland dynamics in mid-western Ireland from the Neolithic to recent times. In R. Schulting and N. J. Whitehouse (eds.), XXXX. Moloney, A., D. Jennings, M. Keane and C. McDermott, 1993. Excavations at Clonfinlough, Co. Offaly, Irish Archaeological Wetland Unit Transactions 2, Dublin: Crannóg Publications. Mulhall, I. in press. The National Museum of Ireland's Bog Bodies Research Project. Archaeology Ireland. Mullins, G. 2007. Three thousand years of human activity at Rahally, Co. Galway. In J. O'Sullivan and M. Stanley (eds.), Roads, Rediscovery and Research, pp. 25-35, Dublin: Archaeology and the National Roads Authority Monograph Series 5. Newman, C. 1998. Reflections on the making of a ‘royal site’ in early Ireland. World Archaeology 30: 127–141. Newman, C., M. O'Connell, M. Dillon and K. Molloy, 2007. Interpretation of charcoal and pollen data relating to a late Iron Age ritual site in eastern Ireland: a holistic approach. Vegetation History and Archaeobotany 16: 349-365. O'Connell, M. 1990. Early land-use in north-east County Mayo–the

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CHAPTER THREE IMAGINING DANISH PREHISTORY THROUGH 50 YEARS: METHODOLOGICAL AND PARADIGMATIC TRANSFORMATIONS IN REGIONAL AND INTERREGIONAL ARCHAEOLOGY TINA L. THURSTON, JØRGEN WESTPHAL AND METTE ROESGAARD HANSEN

Introduction From 1998 to 2006, the co-authors of this paper intermittently worked in tandem on a regional project in northwestern Denmark. For close to a decade, while our specializations differed – Thurston, Iron Age and Medieval, Roesgaard, Bronze Age, Westphal, Neolithic – we were drawn together by our mutual interest in the processes and problems of the analysis of regions. In this contribution, we discuss two aspects of regional archaeology in Denmark, and for comparison, elsewhere in Scandinavia: first, the conceptual approaches to defining ‘regions’ and second, the methods used for prospecting and investigating within them and interpreting them. The term ‘region’ has long been associated with archaeological studies in Denmark, and phrases such as ‘settlement district’, ‘landscapes of settlement’, ‘central and regional’, ‘local and regional’ appear in the titles of many books, book sections and articles. In this chapter we consider what the concept of region has meant in Denmark in the more distant and recent past, discuss the evolution of the notion of regions, and compare this with how regions are currently conceptualized and studied in a broader disciplinary perspective.

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By region, we do not mean geographic areas of size and scope determined by the archaeologist – but rather territories that have cultural meaning, likely to have been defined as meaningful by those that used them in the past, something better articulated by the more contemporary notion of cultural landscape. Such territories are often nested, and at once contain and are contained within smaller and larger regions that must be understood simultaneously. By regional survey, we do not mean the defining of a geographic area and then a compilation of reports or anecdotes about whatever has been found within it, or the inspection of individual site areas themselves, no matter how large, or the survey of the property on which a site lies; rather, we mean reconnaissance of large continuous areas with a trained survey team using a standard archaeological survey and data recording methodology. Such a survey includes known sites, previously unknown sites, and all ‘non-site’ areas between them. While we are limited to only a few case studies of regional work in Denmark, and thus do not present an exhaustive or comprehensive overview of Danish regional archaeology, we offer some insights on alternative and complimentary strategies for the study prehistoric regions and suggest some future directions.

An historical review of regional studies in Denmark In the same year that the co-authors began to work together, Klavs Randsborg published an article on regional archaeology in Denmark that serves as both starting point and counterpoint for discussion (Randsborg 1998). This article in sum suggests that while the Danes working within Denmark have had a ‘regional’ perspective historically, that at the time the article was written, this approach had largely stalled, yielding instead to the perspective that excavations, especially large horizontal excavations, are the best key to understanding the past. Randsborg also identifies a second issue: that the regional tradition in Denmark is based largely on the idea of ‘passive survey’ – the compiling of known data from various sources and its subsequent mapping and interpretation. Finally, we would add that the ‘region’ under study is often arbitrary: drawn by the archaeologist, it can refer to sites within a certain proximity to each other, sites within some radius of a university or town where the archaeologist works or teaches, or just an arbitrary geographic territory around a single known site and everything it is known to contain. Like the concept of the

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‘archaeological culture’ that has been under fire for 50 years and has largely been discarded in favor of efforts to identify indigenous ethnicity, social groups, and political entities, the ‘archaeological region’ can also be an artificial, reified construct. While useful data and important finds and insights may come from such ‘passive survey’, arbitrarily bounded areas, or any archaeological work, the concept of region should be more culturally contextual or it is relatively meaningless. To Randsborg’s comments we would add that at the time of our publication, a decade later, the stalled vehicle of regional methods in Danish archaeology and more nuanced concepts of the region are certainly now emerging.

A history of the archaeological region in Denmark Randsborg begins with a review of the noted contributions of early Danish antiquarians, museum directors, and various compilers of regional data during the Early Modern era. Any student of the history of archaeology knows that Denmark made remarkable contributions to the field and provided a model for other national archaeologies. As early as the 1622, royal physician and antiquarian Ole Worm convinced the Danish crown to enact laws for the preservation of rune stones, mounds, stone-settings, megaliths, and even oral traditions of the past (Jakobsen 2007: 3). In many ways, he founded the ‘regional’ perspective when he undertook a huge cartographic survey of rune stones, published in 1643 as Danicorum Monumentorum. His efforts were followed by those of King Frederik III, who used the late Worm’s large accumulation of prehistoric materials as the basis of a royal collection (Jakobsen 2007: 4). In 1737, the ‘treasure trove’ law was enacted, requiring any finds of archaeological materials to be handed over to the king, and in 1752, the public was advised that objects of precious metals found through serendipity could be exchanged for their monetary value (Jakobsen 2007: 5). This led to the preservation of antiquities at levels unheard of in other nations, enabling later archaeologists to work with one of the finest cultural contexts in Europe. During the 18th century, interest in antiquities grew, and a nationalistic romanticized past became a focus of public attention. In the early 19th century, an antiquities commission and National Museum were established (Jakobsen 2007: 18). Randsborg (1998: 246) notes that during the 19th century N. F. S. Sehested carried out a number of systematic surface surveys, and “...in two magnificent volumes, beautifully illustrated,

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published all known archaeological data, and in great detail, from an area about 35 square-kilometers in the southeastern part of the Danish island of Fyn.” This was an unusual approach in those times, when artifact studies and early stratigraphic excavations were the main interests of archaeologists, but was certainly in the Danish tradition of regional inquiry.

Direct antecedents of the modern ‘region’ In the early 20th century, what Randsborg (1998: 248) terms ‘passive survey’ became popular throughout Scandinavia: registration or recording of all extant known archaeological monuments in a given region, inspired by a German program of the same type, mostly linked to the Kulturkreis concept. This became established as a tradition especially in Denmark. This continued through the mid-20th century, with work such as Mathiassen’s (1948) Studier over Vestjyllands Oldtidsbebyggelse and Nordvestsjællands Oldtidsbebyggelse (1959), which presented a mapping project involving almost 4000 ‘known’ sites – an exhaustive passive survey. During the later 20th century, environmentally informed culture historic archaeology became the overarching paradigm in Denmark and south Scandinavia, and by the late 70s and 1980s, the popular notion of the region emerged as we know it today, defined by various ecological and culture-specific criteria. Individual sites in reasonably close proximity were discussed and theorized in varying ways by Randsborg, Thrane, and many others (Randsborg 1980; Thrane 1975a, 1979a, 1979b, 1987), but planned, large-scale, spatially-oriented survey projects were not undertaken. Thus, for much of the 20th century, regional archaeology evolved theoretically, but without any new conceptualizations or advances in methodological approaches, limiting interpretations. Other developments of the 1980s included projects using what might be called an ‘umbrella approach’ to regions. By this, we refer to the establishment of a project by a group of interdisciplinary scholars – archaeologists, geographers, ecologists, historians, and others – with a large, overarching mission statement and ambitious agenda. Some of these represented real collaborations; other largely consisted of many individual scholars’ work listed or enumerated together under a mutually agreed covering umbrella.

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In many contexts such endeavors were outgrowths of a university administration’s calls to develop interdisciplinary research or institutes (Höll and Nilsson 1999), answered by faculty with little time or funding. This is a well-known phenomenon the world over. Participants establish such projects and come together intermittently, perhaps every few years, to generate a volume purporting to be a ‘project’ publication, but which really represents a compilation of unconnected work in many disciplines in a particular modern region. Southern Scandinavia has seen a number of large interdisciplinary program attempts, all successful in terms of individual goals, but only some successful as truly realized collaborative regional projects. Southern Sweden was a part of Denmark until the 17th century, and thus is a focus of work on prehistoric and protohistoric ‘Denmark’, despite its modern incorporation into a neighboring nation. Both culturally and in terms of topographic and ecological conditions, it is similar to much of Denmark, so provides interesting comparison in terms of national research agendas. In Skåne, the southernmost part of Sweden, and part of the formerly Danish territory, the Ystad Project has been an example of a largely successful umbrella project, where project leaders managed to integrate diverse scholarship with great integrity. The Gårdlösa project in the Tommarp River Valley also succeeded in examining sites assessed through archaeological, paleoecological and geochemical data as making up an authentically interconnected context with shared material culture as well as proximity. These were defined as an interaction sphere by Sternqvist (1981, 1993a, 1993b) and subject to intensive multidisciplinary studies. For a less successful example, the Hagestad Project (Strömberg 1980) was an idea of similar proportions to these examples, but one that was never fully realized as a project. In Denmark, this strategy is also found, for example in the Agrar 2000 project based at the University of Aarhus. Led by a paleoecologist Bent Vad Odgaard (Nielsen and Odgaard 2005) between 1998 and 2003, it was kicked off with a 1997 conference, and many publications were forthcoming, ostensibly linked with a huge web of interdisciplinary research divided into several working groups. Another similar project, Foranderlige Landskaber (Changing Landscapes) with interdisciplinary objectives and an archaeological component was based at the Syddansk University with meetings scheduled once each year in 1998, 1999, and

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2000. Internet pages listed the publications of all participants in both projects, in some cases individually, in others mixed together under themes although the research was not necessarily carried out cooperatively and was often connected only on a very general level of a mission statement. In 1998, Randsborg bemoaned the problems of these historical strategies; today, in many cases, passive survey and largely unrelated compilations have begun to give way to other approaches, a trajectory generally seen across Scandinavian archaeology (Skre 1999). During the late 1970s – 1980s, Swedish researchers began to avail themselves of the earlier soil chemical work of the archaeologist and soil scientist Arrhenius, who conducted large-scale phosphate testing in southern Sweden in the 1930s (Callmer 1986, 1991). Since Arrhenius’ methods were different from modern soil chemical analysis, but still easily interpretable, his data are even now very valuable as a tool for the study of regions within which Arrhenius’ work was conducted. The Swedes also instituted and continue to utilize new programs of phosphate testing and other geochemical work as a standard tool for intrasite analysis (Linderholm 2007). Likewise in Norway, geochemical testing became commonplace around the same time and continues to be used today. A similar situation unfortunately did not occur in Denmark, despite ideal conditions. Only a very limited number of researchers have used geochemical methods as a research strategy. Another trend of the last decade has been the performance of surveys of various types – pedestrian, chemical, and remote sensing – as tools for assembling regional data. Such work includes consideration of already known sites, but supplements them with active strategies for finding the missing pieces between them. In Sweden, the later portions of the Ystad project undertook active survey, using pedestrian and extant geochemical data, and in the 1990s, the Uppåkra project began in southern Sweden to address the ‘central place’ site of Uppåkra and the surrounding region (Larsson 2001, 2002; Larsson and Hårdh 2003). Geochemical survey of these regions is not necessary – it was done in the 1930s by Arrhenius, and the results are still relevant and useful. Pedestrian survey is less prevalent at Uppåkra, but planned systematic survey of large continuous areas with metal detector, magnetometry and resistivity were conducted in areas where the Arrhenius phosphate map shows probable Iron Age phosphate

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areas by their proximity to Iron Age place names. These projects thus fuse passive survey with active methods of prospection. Oddly enough, while the agrarian landscape of southern Scandinavia, especially Denmark, is ideally suited to pedestrian survey, more was accomplished in the harsher and less cultivated north. In Sweden, the Riksantikvarieämbetet (RAÄ), or Swedish National Heritage Board, is the largest planner and financer of archaeological fieldwork. Enormous survey areas related to large state projects have been undertaken by the RAÄ, which utilize large-scale pedestrian, geochemical, and geophysical survey methods. In the mid-20th century, many hydroelectric projects along major rivers and lakes in Northern Sweden necessitated archaeological surveys, leading to the discovery of thousands of Neolithic and Bronze Age settlements along their shores (Bergman et al. 2003:1451) and Mesolithic sites predicted and found by modeling shoreline changes (Olofsson and Olsson, 1999). In Norway, late 20th century archaeology began to benefit from generously government-funded projects (Risbøl 2002; Stene 2008), especially as oil revenues became available to generally increase funding for cultural heritage initiatives, and large regional projects with extensive active survey components continue to be funded by the state and state institutions – museums and universities – in addition to the projects of individual faculty or graduate students. The Gråfjell project (Risbøl 2002; Stene 2005, 2008) encompassed 193 square kilometers that were intensively surveyed and hundreds of sites of all types were found. Many other large and productive surveys have also revealed hundreds of new sites of every period, from the Mesolithic to the Medieval (Kutschera and Waraas 2000; Lillehammer 2007; Prescott 1995; Prøsch-Danielsen and Høgestøl 1995; Øye 2005). A number of Norwegian theses and dissertations have used a survey strategy as well (Skrede 2002; Dahle 2005). In the above cases, the regions designated for survey are not dictated by any concept of a meaningful prehistoric territory, but by the project’s contemporary origin and purpose – for example the Gråfjell project’s extent was determined by the planned construction of a military artillery firing range. Despite this, state archaeologists do not hesitate to then use the artificial region to theorize contextual regions within it, or of which they were a part. A well-situated research-oriented study can then be situated within less than ideal cultural resource management conditions.

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Changing questions and concepts for late prehistory As noted, for much of the late 20th century, environmentally informed culture historic archaeology was the guiding principle for many archaeologists Denmark, with the ‘region’ defined by ecological criteria and stylistic boundaries. Once defined, such regions were largely filled in through the post facto aggregation of many individual sites, found through rescue or serendipity. For many archaeologists, an embedded culturehistoric orientation implicitly directed them to put off any interpretation in favor of studying regions for decades, hoping that past social processes would somehow reveal themselves given enough time and fieldwork, a concept that had been rejected long before by some national traditions (e. g. Hawkes 1954; Taylor 1948). Furthermore, while these and other studies yielded some remarkable results, in many cases the questions asked by projects also continued to reflect the concerns of modernity: ‘rational’ economics, core-periphery domination models, hierarchy, power-seeking elites, and central places. In recent years, these ideas have been extensively deconstructed and re-thought by many scholars in the social sciences and humanities, such as in Britain, where there has been a major paradigm shift in interpretation of late prehistory (Collis 1997; Hill 1989, 1993; Thurston 2009a, 2009b). These changes are also seen within Scandinavian archaeology (Skre 2001). Many recent projects reflect a greater interest in the social history of both elite and ordinary people, and use bottom-up perspectives which consider all factions, social or economic classes, and regional groups within a studied culture or area (Lillehammer 2007). A few examples are discussed below.

Regions as populated, lived, and experienced landscapes In Denmark, the state funds archaeology at much lower levels than its peer Scandinavian nations, and a long series of government reorganizations of relevant administrative departments and specialized authorities also contributed to a lack of large regional projects in the late 20th century. However, the will to undertake such work is certainly present: in recent times, both active survey and the consideration of indigenously defined prehistoric regions have begun to be reflected in the choices of investigators, putting a new and different face on the region’s prehistory. Homegrown projects and Danish collaborations with foreign scholars have both been productive for the study of regions and use of active survey

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strategies. Resources stemming from huge government projects may not be easily accessible for research-oriented work in Denmark, but the archaeological community there has made good use of institutional collaborations, as well as some EU funding sources. For example, Earle (Northwestern University, USA), Kristiansen (Göteborg, Sweden), and Rowlands (University College, London), collaborated with their Danish colleague Bech (Museum for Thy and Vester Hanherred) for several years on the Thy Archaeological Project (TAP) in Northwestern Jutland, accomplishing extensive pedestrian survey of large regions. The TAP project did not attempt to conceptualize small-scale indigenous Neolithic or Bronze Age regions, but using the geographically delimited Thy isthmus as a probable entity, selected randomly chosen survey blocks within it as the basis for survey. Another example is the recent collaboration between Fiedel (Kulturhistorisk Museum of Randers) and Loveluck (University of Nottingham), aimed at studying the chiefly center of Stavnsager on Jutland and its immediate hinterland, an area of about 150 hectares (1.5 square km), for which pedestrian, geochemical and geophysical survey were implemented (Høilund Nielsen and Loveluck 2006). For this Iron Age chiefly settlement, it was assumed that the area in a 1 km radius around the known site would yield data relevant to its study, which is correct; the placement of the site within a broader region and its interactions was not the goal of the project. Other projects have examined such broader regions. Earlier, we referred to the Danish, and greater south Scandinavian tradition of ‘passive survey’ versus ‘active survey’. Does the acceptance of ‘what is already known’ as opposed to the active seeking of ‘all we can find’ skew the way we ‘think the record’ of regions, as the culture-historic view of artifacts purportedly skews the understanding of prehistoric cultures? We reiterate our contention that while important information can be gleaned from almost every type of archaeological work, without a good, if always imperfect, understanding of what a contextually defined region actually contained, many interpretations are on shaky ground.

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Figure 3-1. Denmark and South Scandinavia, including location of Thy’s Iron Age project.

From 1998 to 2006, another international collaborative project involved Bech (Museum for Thy and Vester Hanherred) and Thurston (State University of New York, Buffalo): the Thy’s Iron Age project (TIA; see Figure 3-1). A focus on the Iron Age had not been part of the earlier TAP project, and TIA was differently informed than TAP, by landscape archaeology and post-positivist theory. The field methodology was influenced both by Nordic soil chemistry traditions and by the work of American survey archaeologists such as Blanton, Feinman, and Kowalewski (Kowalewski 2008), who pioneered full coverage survey in contexts such as Mexico, North America, and China. Full coverage is self-explanatory: it attempts to cover the whole landscape, and includes so-called empty places as well as known or obviously occupied places, seeking every possible trace of human activity.

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For the Iron Age, archaeologist-defined random block survey is an unnecessary artificiality. Indigenous territoriality can be reasonably hypothesized, so spatial entities meaningful to their inhabitants are more appropriate analytical units. Thus, indigenous Iron Age territorial concepts were used as regional substrata for past human praxis. In many ways, this project was aimed at understanding the Iron Age from an indigenous spatial perspective, and at introducing newer ideas about interregional interactions: creolization and the reflexive, commensal impacts of localstate interactions, as opposed to the various aging ‘dependency’ models such as core-periphery theories and prestige goods economies. We also considered both bottom-up and top-down manifestations of power as opposed to unidirectional expectations, heterarchy in addition to hierarchy, and regional autonomy in addition to state domination. The project used a strategy similar to the later, above-mentioned Randers project, but over a much wider area, incorporating pedestrian, geochemical, and some metal detector survey, organized into a GIS database. The first and largest of several spatial scales used for study were the herreds, 200-300 square kilometer areas, the Iron Age “hundred” from which ethnohistorically, men were conscripted as fighters, also the focus of subregional assemblies or tings. Herreds of the 12th century are believed to be similar or the same as those of the Viking period (9th-11th centuries), and these in turn comprise 2 or 3 combined Roman Iron Age (RIA; 1st – 5th centuries) territories defined by Thiessen polygons around equestrian graves and elite settlements of that era, apparently developing from these between the RIA and the later Iron Age. For study of late prehistoric periods, we are fortunate to have means of understanding indigenously constructed territorial units. Our second scale of spatiality was at the level of the ‘parishes’, counter-intuitively Christian until one remembers that they were only dubbed ‘parishes’ in later times. We call them village territories. Iron Age villages appeared in the 3rd to 2nd century BC in Denmark and remained consistently within a village territory after foundation, sometimes staying in place, though often moving small distances every 125 to 250 years. Current villages bear versions of their foundation names. During Christianization, a church was built, and thus, within ‘parish’ boundaries lie all phases back to the Iron Age founding. Medieval (current) villages lie approximately 2 km apart. Beginning at the village center, full coverage survey pedestrian and geochemical survey

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of the surrounding square kilometer or more was used to locate previous Iron Age phases plus abandoned locales that left no modern correlates. We also found and recorded sites of earlier and later eras. In many cases, broad transects to the next village territory were taken, so that all landscapes, even those not typically thought of as Iron Age, were covered. In his 1998 article, Randsborg discussed the problem of conducting large-scale integrated regional work due to the costs, stating that rescue, or what he calls administrative archaeology, is “where the money is” and that this “money” archaeology is not well articulated with research. Due to its international nature, our project did not have such problems. It was jointly planned and carried out by the PI, Thurston, a US academic, and Bech, archaeological inspector of the Museum for Thy and Vester Hanherred. The Museum personnel provided logistics, local support, and highly specialized expertise, and incurred some supplementary costs, while the long-term, large scale work was funded by four grants from the US National Science Foundation totaling over a quarter of a million dollars. TIA tackled a survey area with 44 possible village territories, and over nine years, was able to examine 25 of them. Modern soil chemical survey was taken to the level of full landscape coverage, at higher resolution and with better methods than Arrhenius’ full coverage work of the 1930s. Phosphate survey was carried out using UTM based squares, with a method developed by Earle’s project (Steinberg 1996), with tests taken every 50 meters. Two simultaneous crews covered 50-70 hectares a day. Field maps were constructed by setting up a field lab with molybdenum blue spot tests; later, resolution was enhanced by using inductively coupled plasma spectroscopy (ICP) for 12 elements including phosphate for parts per million, allowing a better understanding of the intensity and scale of land-use. The same territory was then subject to visual survey by teams walking at close (10 meter) intervals, who mapped and collected all surface material using the same UTM coordinate-based system, and all data was transferred to ArcInfo GIS when complete. As they were recorded, test excavations at each Iron Age site began, as well as phosphate areas without surface finds, while survey continued in new areas. Over the first four years, 22 square km were covered, and sites from all periods of the Iron Age were discovered and tested.

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The last five years focused on several small and six larger site excavations addressing research questions on the transition from Thy as an autonomous region to a part of the Late Iron Age and Early Medieval state. Although ‘small’ by Danish standards, based on the abovementioned long-time Danish focus on huge horizontal excavations, they were targeted, through soil chemistry and testing, to find the parts sites most heavily utilized and data-rich. These years also saw continued survey, eventually bringing total full coverage survey to almost 28 square km with more intensive testing to establish site temporality and state of preservation. During this time, the Museum also coordinated large-scale metal detection of the plowzone in certain areas. This strategy, in addition to increasing Thy’s Iron Age site database exponentially, forged a clearer understanding of where people were, what they were doing, and their changing use of landscape in the Iron Age. From this improved spatial database social processes related to continuity and change can be better inferred. The goal was to invest in a project that would reveal a ‘truer’ (if imperfect) picture of large scale past change, and while the survey was able to incorporate ‘known sites’ the project was designed with the intention of discovering everything possible about the local landscape; perhaps not 100% of the Iron Age ‘universe’ of sites, but all that could be found through current archaeological methods. The second goal was to undertake the project without any preconception of what would be found: not modeling expectations, but instead attempting to let the data tell how this region’s people contended with a changing frame of reference through time. Denmark was a secondary state, made up of previously autonomous areas conquered or coerced into unification with a dominant peer entity. Currently, many popular ideas about state formation in Denmark are modeled on expectations drawn from a handful of typical enormous horizontal excavations within the territorial ‘container’ of the early Kingdom of Denmark. Some lie on Denmark’s large islands, others in the southern parts of Jutland, both near the state’s core. Because these areas were far more compliant with the expanding state than others, this has led to a picture in which kings grew ever stronger, and the building of the state was largely consensual. Many authors present their data as if royal power, radiating from ‘king’s men”, spread out smoothly from the core, and landscapes were reorganized and new systems of taxation and labor put into effect without much opposition. This in fact flies in the face of crosscultural understandings of unification sequences, and historical data from

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Denmark itself, which show that some regions were at the same time provoked into armed uprisings against the state, yet most archaeologists have neglected to address these issues from anything but a top-down perspective. In almost all historic cases of secondary state formation, cooperation is usually not typical of state-local relations during such sequences, and the unification of previously autonomous peoples almost invariably is highly contested. The results of the TIA project demonstrate that this was indeed the case in early Denmark, and that modeling based on expectations derived from other provinces can lead to erroneous interpretations. For example, in contrast with other Danish regions, Thy displayed some strikingly different patterns, especially in the timing of organizational and infrastructural changes, perhaps related to differences in the nature of the local relationships with the emergent state during the Viking Age Medieval transition (Thurston 2006, 2007). Thy was one of several areas in Northern Jutland that engaged in successful armed resistance to state demands. Archaeologically, we saw a trajectory consistent with this historical conflict. Unlike other regions, no major agricultural intensification or pervasive state sponsored or encouraged settlement shifts were seen; rather, continuity is evident at the change from the Viking Age to the Medieval, quite different from other regions. In some regions, old chiefly centers, hotbeds of resistance against the central state, were razed and new state towns built. In Thy, this did not happen: chiefly centers remained active and old settlements were used as state administrative nodes. While there is evidence, in the form of runic inscriptions, that some state officials penetrated the region, much of the local governing apparatus seems to have remained – again different from in other areas. These conclusions could only be reached by looked at many sites in the region, almost all of which were previously unknown. The project’s two goals – full coverage survey and a lack of preconceptions biasing interpretations – permitted successful revelation of a sequence substantially different than other regions during the state’s coalescence. Similar unexpected results have been found elsewhere in Scandinavia (e.g. Skre 1998, 2001a, 2001b) when survey has been undertaken and no preconceived ideas have skewed the interpretation of data to fit it into some favored model.

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Changing questions and concepts for earlier prehistory The issue of whether material culture should be viewed as a class of inert things that can be dated and mapped versus material culture as the materialization of thoughts, desires, power, resistance, gender, class, age, and other socially constructed categories has recently been taken up by Danish researchers, and provides a good example of the difference that Sørensen (1999) notes between more traditional and more contemporary approaches. Much Iron Age archaeology is informed by its relative recency. From place-names and boundaries traceable from Old Norse to Early Modern Nordic languages, from indigenous accounts dating to the Viking Age and early Medieval, plus the ethnohistoric textual accounts of the Romans, Franks, and other historic entities, researchers have some ideas of how regions were imagined and lived in the Iron Age. But what was a meaningful spatial unit back in times before the words for identities like the ‘Dane’, ‘Cimbri’, or ‘Teuton’ of the Iron Age are known? Of times whose landscapes have no known place-names or boundaries to inform us? Recent discoveries in Thy suggest that in the Early Bronze Age, a spatiality related to identity not only existed as an experienced, lived entity but also as an embodied ritual behavior (Hansen 2007).

Regions as performance of cultural identity While bronze artifacts have long been a focus of study in Denmark, they are usually grouped according to presence, absence, or stylistic group. Recently, other ways of understanding their meaning have been suggested. Viewed in a new light, bronze artifacts placed in male graves suggest that in the ritual acts connected with burial and hoarding one can detect regionalized behaviors, some quite different than what is commonly thought to be detectable, i.e. a generalized presence of ‘male’ ideology, marking some individuals with a ‘warrior’ identity. Study of localized practices points instead to both this general male identity, a second regional male identity marked in life, and a third notion of personhood, more marked in death. The Early Bronze Age in Denmark (1700 – 1100 BC) is traditionally seen as a period whose cultures are characterized by extensive interregional networks, where exchange and trade supported the flow of bronze brought to Denmark over great distances (Randsborg 1968, 1972;

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Kristiansen 1998; Kristiansen and Larsson 2005, Vandkilde 1995). Importation of finished metal is clearly demonstrated in the contrast between elaborate finds of metal artifacts in burials and hoards yet a lack of copper and tin resources for the making of bronze artifacts in the South Scandinavian area. The large amount of well preserved bronze artifacts in the Danish material have through the last decades been central to regional studies in the Bronze Age, where adornment, style, technique, combination and quantity in graves has been the prevailing background for regional and local approaches (Randsborg 1968, 1972; Kristiansen 1983, 1998; Rønne 1984; Asingh and Rasmussen 1989, 1990, 1996; Wilroth 1989 and Hornstrup 1997, 1998). To illustrate this, it has been shown that some bronze artifacts were made locally but some – for example certain types of swords – have a regional and interregional distribution (Broholm 1944; Kristiansen and Larsson 2005). Furthermore, there is regional and local diversity in the combination of artifacts in the graves (Asingh and Rasmussen 1989, 1990, 1996; Wilroth 1989 and Hornstrup 1997, 1998), and the amount of metal used in each burial (Randsborg 1974; Johansen et al. 2003). This supports the idea that bronze artifacts were an important instrument for acknowledging subregional, regional and interregional groups and identities in this period of prehistory. The material record in Thy dating to the early Bronze Age is characterized by similarities in the metal finds from burials and hoards, which reveals intense communication and interchange inside Thy (Hornstrup 1998), indicating that the area should be seen as subregional ‘whole’. This regional identity is not only expressed through metal objects but also by an overall presence of stone burial cists, especially numerous in this area (Rasmussen 1993). Studies of Thy’s Bronze Age in regional perspective are not new: already in the 1940s Thy was mentioned as part of a larger regional entity covering the western parts of the Limfjord, marked by the high concentration of bronze age barrows (Broholm 1944) and later based on the high occurrence of rich male graves (Randsborg 1974, Kristiansen 1998). There are within Thy, however, several regional and local identity markers linked to Early Bronze Age metal that have been ignored in the prevailing Danish literature, not marked by types or combinations of metal artifacts but in a more subtle form – their context and placement (Figure 32).

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Given our understanding that human action is a central element in the production and reproduction of social structures (Bourdieu 1977), bronzes are active symbols of the continuity of regional and local identities. Caches or groups of precious items buried or hidden as part of a sacred or ceremonial mortuary rite, as well as the guessed-at meanings embodied by hoards, acted as extensions or instruments of human action connected to death and burial. The actions of people or groups become central as the body is processed in various ways, and things are placed on and near the deceased, thus imposing meaning onto the body (Bourdieu 1999; Lillehammer 1987; Meskell 2001). Regional identity is thereby not only connected to the individual but to interpersonal relationships (Brück 2004), where groups of people may differentiate themselves from others through discrete behaviors marked by ritual acts (Hodder 1982; Jones 1997, 2007). The ‘proper burial’ of a person for any group says as much about the living as the dead.

Figure 3-2. Bronze Age burials in Thy.

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Several factors indicate that the body itself was an important medium of burial ritual in the Early Bronze Age in Thy. The Early Bronze Age interment is always within a body-length stone cist, in both cremation and inhumation graves. Thus, the idea of the living body – the full extent of its physical stature in life – continued to be conveyed, even when reduced to ashes. This symbolic ‘continuation’ or metaphoric preservation is also symbolized by the placement of unburned artifacts in cremation graves. This tradition is especially common in Thy’s Early Bronze Age (Rasmussen 1993). Symbolically, the bodies of the dead are also reconstructed through the placement of artifacts. Unburned objects in cremation graves are placed to reflects how they would have been positioned had the body not been burned (Hansen 2007). A prime example is found in male graves where different placements of the sword to symbolize the ‘continuing’ body are seen in different regions. Thy has three different territorially linked sub-groups marked by sword placement with the imagined body: to the left of the ‘body’, to its right, or on the chest of the deceased. In the central-most of the three areas, swords and daggers are placed on the left side; in the two remaining areas, to each side of this area, swords are placed by the right side or on the chest of the deceased. In life, swords are likely to have been worn by the left hip, where one would naturally draw the sword if one is right-handed – the majority of the population. In isolation, the placement could indicate lefthanded men, except that these are clearly regionalized patterns - it is not likely that in certain areas of Thy all men were left-handed! For the same reason, it is unlikely that these differences mark ‘age-grades’ or different social ranks or entitlements. Rather it indicates a different pattern of symbolic meaning, perhaps of local identity. These geographically demarcated traditions are part of identity strategies governing interactions between men of different groups in Thy. In terms of the group in which swords are seen placed on the chest of the deceased, a symbolic meaning is arguably clear. The sword is placed in an ‘unnatural’ spot, since there was no tradition in this region - or in any known world region - where men would carry a lengthy and bulky sword on their chest as they undertook either ordinary or unusual activities.

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Most interestingly, there is absolutely nothing in the actual style or manufacture of the weapons themselves that indicates the regional distributions evident in the placement of the sword-to-body relationship. Yet a second identity or group-related behavioral pattern is marked by the placement of hoards in different environments. It is broadly accepted that during most of Northern European late prehistory, hoards of metal artifacts were offered or placed in wetlands, including in Early Bronze Age Thy. A set of regional patterns, applicable only to hoards, parallel the regions marked by ritual differences in burials (Asingh and Rasmussen 1986; Hornstrup 1995). In particular areas, jewelry is found only in graves together with artifacts that elsewhere only appear in wetland hoards, such as bronze sickles. In Thy, in the area where male burials have the sword placed to the left, hoards are found in wetlands, while there are no hoards in wetlands in the two areas where the swords are placed on the right side or on the chest of the deceased. Here the hoards are found in connection to the burial mounds or in the graves themselves. Again, the objects themselves show no patterning in style, decoration, or manufacture. This could be explained by conceptualizing different spheres and scales of interaction. On the broadest scope of interaction or largest regional level, the similarity in the bronze artifacts types correlates well with the assumption that an overarching way of expressing male identity and ideology existed in the Early Bronze Age. One type of mutually understandable idiom of ‘maleness’ was a static identity (Treherne 1995; Kristiansen and Larsson 2005): a need for men from different regions to appear similar may mark the importance of a unifying expression of interpersonal communication and interchange. On the other hand, a choice toward differentiation marks the patterns of sword placement and hoard context within groups in Thy. While men moving between or across regions sought to display their symbols to each other in life, the death ritual itself was not at this interregional level. Instead, it was a ritual act created at a smaller scale, witnessed by and enacted by a different audience: those within each region, expressing a local social identity. The patternings are outcomes of performative acts, and would have been hidden from the living world soon after their execution, as the grave was covered by a mound and the hoard lost under soil or water.

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Thus, we see three different scales of symbolic interaction: within the local community, men, or their living relatives, wished to emphasize local belonging by adhering to specific placements of weapons or hoard. When viewed on a larger scale that encompasses several such groups, the subregion of Thy displays a spectrum of ritual differences and geographic groupings of different mortuary traditions. Yet on a third level, that of all Denmark, and indeed Northern Europe, unity or belonging is again underscored by the ubiquitous presence of bronze objects in male graves, despite (or even marked by) widely varied styles, decoration, and methods of manufacture. Such differences and similarities would have been perfectly obvious to the Bronze Age observer or participant, but when we are left with little but material culture to study complex past interrelationships, it is easy to overlook how local, regional and interregional aspects of Early Bronze Age society are present in different scales and contexts of human interaction. This calls for a new conceptualization of what constitutes meaning, which includes embodied and performative acts that result in subtle variations that reflect the otherwise inscrutable aspects of ethnic, political, or social strategies. When we limit ourselves by seeking only stylistic or presence/absence boundaries, only the most obvious and generalized patterns are visible.

Regions as ‘puzzles’ of invisible people and places The study of the Neolithic in regional perspective is a good example of the kind of problems associated with static conceptualizations of human activity in the past – our ideas, as archaeologists, of what prehistoric people were like, combined with somewhat irrational loyalties to methodologies that may not be adequate for particular contexts. A primary entryway into study of earlier prehistory in Denmark are the thousands of Early and Early Middle Neolithic megalithic tombs, as well as many large assembly sites, so-called causewayed enclosures associated with the Funnel Beaker (TRB) culture: flat or hilltop locales, enclosed by roughly circular banks and ditches, broken by wide causeways acting as conduits to and from their centers. Used intermittently, they represent unusual, probably ceremonial, activities rather than settlements. Today, hundreds are known from across Scandinavia, Britain, France, Belgium, Germany, Italy, and beyond. These site categories have been intensively investigated, followed by several attempts at theoretical synthesis on the

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relationship between TRB ritual and economic behavior. The ordinary settlement sites of the period are less well represented in the material, causing difficulties in understanding their interrelation with the more specialized aspects of the built landscape. An early regional TRB study was the Northwest Sjælland Survey of the late 1940s to mid-50s (Mathiassen 1959). Typical of older surveys, little was recorded about the methodology, but a scattered, inconsistent survey strategy is indicated, carried out differently by participants in various areas, who also relied heavily on archival studies and the recording of private artifact collections. Their overall conclusion was that there were too few settlements compared to the number of megaliths. This fact, probably due to the ephemeral nature of TRB habitation sites, has continued to haunt attempts at understanding the spatial organization of TRB society and its social implications. In the early 1970s, when causewayed enclosures were discovered and established as a type of site, for East Jutland, Madsen integrated them into the megalithic landscape, building a processual-style ‘central place’ framework for understanding the highly complex spatial dynamic, but still failed to identify ordinary settlements (Madsen and Juel Jensen 1982; Madsen 1982, 1988). A final frontier, that of understanding the everyday life of Megalithic cultures, has finally been crossed by using contemporary conceptualizations as well as improved methods. Ongoing survey of a 35 square kilometer area on Fünen around the Sarup causewayed enclosure has yielded more habitations than previously, yet the data still seems skewed: there are still too many houses for the dead and too few houses for the living (Andersen 1997, 2004). John Steinberg’s work under the Thy Archaeological Project (TAP) resolves the mystery of the missing sites through the discovery of a clear TRB site signature present only in the plowzone (Steinberg 1996). For example, initial fieldwalking of individual TRB sites produced as little as 42 flint tools, none providing more than a general dating to the TRB period, useless for relating them to nearby megaliths. Subsequent systematic mechanized screenings of the entire associated plowzone over such a site yielded close to four tons of flakes and tools.

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Standard Danish excavation removes the plowzone and investigates only features dug into the subsoil. For periods with substantial and well understood and preserved settlements this is less destructive. Yet for periods with seemingly invisible occupations, this strategy is unacceptable. Steinberg’s experimental excavation of such sites revealed only a few shallow pits with almost no artifacts. Even the systematic fieldwalking methods of the Thy Archaeological Project (TAP) produced little useful evidence. Thus, surface finds and excavations will miss or underestimate the meager signature, especially as modern plowing goes ever deeper. Researchers at Sarup resolve this same issue by repeatedly re-walking survey areas for multiple years, collecting newly exposed material. The TAP project mandated 1-time survey of random blocks with timed and paced fieldwalking rather than full collection, so could not do this. Phosphate testing during a single season led to understanding that sitesizes differed substantially from artifact scatters, often far larger than surface material indicated, but was lacking for the bulk of the study. At least for the TRB, investigation of the plowzone and full-coverage regional soil chemical survey should become standard. Other projects have had more success with fieldwalking strategies. The Saltbek Vig survey on Sjælland, also a joint Danish-US venture between Price and Gebauer (University of Wisconsin) and the Kalundborg and Omegns Museum (Gebauer and Price 1990; Price 1995) used fullcoverage survey methods over nearly 20 square kilometers, revealing over 300 sites dating to the late Mesolithic and early Neolithic. The dearth of surface materials was here overcome by a strategy of archaeological testing. This was in turn combined with the register of ‘known’ sites in the region. Remarkable new data from this exhaustive survey and excavation program resulted in new understandings of the connections between the late complex forager population and their earliest Neolithic descendants. Recently, a review of the archive material from Northwest Sjælland is being undertaken in the light of the many new data that has come up in the area since Matthiassen’s (1959) work in the area as well as methodological and theoretical novelties (Schülke 2009). A supplement to the understanding of TRB landscape is provided by regional palynology, using lakes and bogs for regional profiles of natural and human impacts, combined with waterholes, marshes, and prehistoric

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field surfaces sealed beneath grave mounds to provide local site contexts. An ongoing megalith restoration project in Denmark has used this method with great utility, revealing the extent and intensity of various land uses, and in fact pointing to the location of habitations in many cases (Westphal 2009). Thus, although TRB studies are already sophisticated, standard methods fail to fully address questions of the spatial substrate underlying Neolithic people’s lifeways. An updated methodological toolkit will yield better results.

National archaeologies and regional studies In many ways, all the issues that were long an impediment to better regional archaeologies in Denmark are a reflection of national systems. Most nations have requirements that archaeological fieldwork be undertaken before construction of certain types, but there are major differences as well. In Europe, through agreements in the Valletta Convention of 1992, the majority of EU nations committed to this, yet each took differing amounts of time to ratify and implement protective and investigative regulations. In many places, the contractor or developer pays for mitigation work, although this is also implemented in different ways; some require developers to directly hire and pay private or public firms, while others impose a tax on developers to support state mitigation activities. Survey usually precedes any further work, and thus in nations where laws have been enacted, large contiguous areas are often included in reconnaissance plans. Some of these are carried out by private archaeology or environmental impact assessment firms, and some by universities or museums that incorporate cultural resource assessment divisions. Where such laws have been agreed upon yet not enacted, such work is still infrequent. In Denmark, legislation concerning rescue archaeology, “Museumsloven”, was thoroughly revised in 2001. The practical consequences of this legislation are that a trial excavation of the area in question precedes almost all construction projects. This trial excavation is mostly only based on a brief initial archive study as well as a topographic assessment – not on survey by field walking or soil chemical testing. The reason for this is that any given builder is now responsible for any archaeological material on a plot. Extensive trial excavations on even large tracts of land are considered the only safe method to identify sites that, if

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found after the onset of construction work, would halt the projects, thus jeopardizing contractors time plans. Another major impact concerns the higher education systems of the various nations. There are similar issues for student, professional and academic archaeologists, which must be contextualized within the frameworks of how archaeology is ‘done’ in the different national traditions. In addition to the focus of academic archaeologists primarily on excavation, in Denmark and many other nations, most graduate students are not realistically eligible for research grants. Students build their skills and knowledge of methods and material culture by working on excavations, some rescue related, some academic, but not of their own design. It is not considered appropriate in Denmark (or many other European nations) for any student to ‘work’ without pay, even if it is toward their own research goals, so they then build out of their paid excavation experience a topic for a Master’s or a Doctoral thesis. If survey and contemporary regional perspectives are not a part of their paid work, then they cannot implement such work, nor are they able to incorporate anything but more passive survey into their eventual dissertations. The length of time to a PhD, and thus the competence of students to theorize and carry out independent work also vary: in the UK and some other nations, a student completes such a degree in three years, with the expectation that long stretches in post-doctoral positions will ‘complete’ the education. During their student days, they work under the umbrella of an advisor’s project, as part of a team analyzing various related materials. In other nations, more time is granted, but many students stop at the Magister Artis, or extended Master’s degree, which is required to work as a professional archaeologist, often encouraging students to put off a PhD or never obtain one. Instead, they enter the workforce and often must ‘shelve’ their personal research aspirations. This system produces superior field archaeologists, yet lessens the amount of time they have to devote to ‘pure research’ activities, for which they might wish to undertake new methods or investigate emerging ideas. This is very different than the system in some other nations, where graduate students are required to do new fieldwork or laboratory work that is partly or completely independent of their advisor’s or supervisor’s work, and an average of 7-10 years passes during completion of a doctoral degree. In Norway, Prescott’s landscape work (1995) of the 1990s was unusual for its depth and scope, but as a professor at Oslo, he supervises

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many such projects today. In the United States, where such a system exists and many students work in non-US contexts, there is grant funding for student work: the US National Science Foundation funds 50-75% of student proposals at levels that are not extravagant but usually exceed ten thousand dollars. Since students rarely can afford to excavate sites, instead they often conduct surveys of large areas in order to provide a fresh context for extant data, or small subsurface investigations of their own. Since no graduate student in the United States expects salaried remuneration for their field research, they go into the field for extended periods on their own, funded by grants or educational loans. Thus, while some systems promote survey as a professional or professorial pursuit and as a reasonable student goal, some do not. This leads to highly varied levels of active archaeological survey and subsequent regional understandings, as opposed, let us say, to areas of archaeological interest in places like Mexico or Greece. Oddly, Danes working in areas outside of Denmark, such as in the Mediterranean, use active survey consistently as part of their overall research strategies, showing that these issues indeed revolve around traditions of ‘national archaeology’ (Randsborg 1998). The situation has little to do with the curiosity or enterprise of archaeologists, but everything to do with the organization of education, government and government agencies.

Conclusions Since 1998, when Randsborg noted the dearth of active regional fieldwork strategies in Denmark, and the propensity to extrapolate a great deal from a few large excavations, much has changed. Trends impacting all of northern Europe and Scandinavia have influenced regional investigation, and both homegrown and international collaborations have opened the door to new types of thinking and new types of fieldwork. All archaeological work is valuable, and our aim is merely to respectfully encourage the use of alternative methods and concepts to augment existing approaches to large-scale spatial analysis in south Scandinavia. In this brief space we have only been able to discuss a handful of the many region-focused projects, both older and more recent, but hope that the reader can glean from this the value of adding a new kind of regional approach to the world-famous Danish archaeological record and the time-honored traditions for the study of Danish prehistory. This chapter’s coauthors come from different educational and national

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traditions yet share an interest in exploring new ways to study regions and regional phenomena. The cross-fertilization of ideas brought by our differing backgrounds has provided the basis for our implementation of new methods and interpretations. We hope that in the future more intercontinental and cross-traditional projects can bring similar dynamics to other places and problems.

Works Cited Andersen, N. H. 1997. The Sarup Enclosures - The Funnel Beaker Culture of the Sarup site including two causewayed camps compared to the contemporary settlements in the area and other European enclosures. Jutland Archaeological Society Publications XXXIII: 1. Højbjerg. —. 2004. Sarup. Causewayed enclosures placed in a Neolithic ritual landscape on Fünen, Denmark. Journal of Nordic Archaeological Science 14: 11-17. Asingh, P. and M. Rasmussen, 1989. Mange slags grænser. Et eksempel på regional variation i Sydvestdansk ældre Bronzealder. In J. Poulsen (ed.) Regionale forhold i Nordisk Bronzealder, pp. 79-88. Aarhus: Jutland Archaeological Society. Asingh, P. and M. Rasmussen, 1990. Kommuniaktion og udveksling i ældre Bronzealder – belyst gennem regionale undersøgelser i Syddanmark. Hikuin 16: 43-62. Asingh, P. and M. Rasmussen, 1996. Regional variation i Ældre Bronzealder udtrykt gennem gravfundne bronzer i Sydvestdanmark og Sydslesvig. Varia 12: 42-66. Baudou, E. 1960. Die regionale und chronologische einteilung der ju¨ngeren Bronzezeit im Nordischen kreis. Stockholm: Acta Universitatis Stockholmensis. Bergman, I., T. Påsse, A. Olofsson, D. Zackrisson, G. Hörnbergd, E. Hellberg and E. Bohlin, 2003. Isostatic land uplift and Mesolithic landscapes: Lake-tilting, a key to the discovery of Mesolithic sites in the interior of northern Sweden. Journal of Archaeological Science 30: 1451-1458. Bourdieu, P. 1977. Outline of a Theory of Practice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. —. 1999. Den Maskuline Dominans. Copenhagen: Tiderne Skifter. Broholm, H. C. 1943-1949. Danmarks Bronzealder, Copenhagen: Arnold Busck. —. 1944. Danmarks Bronzealder, bind ii, Copenhagen: Nyt Nordisk Forlag.

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Brück, J. 2004. Material metaphors: The relational construction of identity in early Bronze Age burials in Ireland and Britain. Journal of Social Archaeology 4(3): 307-333. Callmer, J. 1986. To stay or to move: Some aspects of settlement dynamics in Southern Sweden. Meddelanden från Lunds Universitets Historiska Museum (1985-86): 167-208. —. 1991. Territory and dominion in the late Iron Age in Southern Scandinavia. In K. Jennbert, L. Larsson, R. Petré and B. WyszomirskaWerbart (eds.), Regions and Reflections. In Honour of Märta Strömberg, pp. 257-273. Lund: Almqvist & Wiksell International. Collis, J. 1997. Dynamic, descriptive and dead-end models: Views of an ageing revolutionary. In A. Gwilt and C. Haselgrove (eds.), Reconstructing Iron Age Societies, pp. 297-302. Oxford: Oxbow. Hansen, M. R. 2007. The interaction of identities in the Early Bronze Age . An analysis of the burial ritual in Thy. Unpublished dissertation, Copenhagen University, Saxo Institute. Hawkes, C. 1954. Wenner-Gren Foundation Supper Conference: Archeological Theory and Method: Some Suggestions from the Old World. American Anthropologist 56(2): 155-168. Hill, J. D. 1989. Re-thinking the Iron Age. Scottish Archaeological Review 6: 16-24. —. 1993. Can we recognise a different European past? A contrastive archaeology of later prehistoric settlements in Southern England. Journal of European Archaeology 1: 57-75. Hodder, I. 1982. Symbols in Action. Ethnoarchaeological studies of material culture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Höll, A. and K. Nilsson, 1999. Cultural landscape as subject to national research programmes in Denmark. Landscape and Urban Planning 46: 15-27. Hornstrup, K. M. 1997. Ældre bronzealder i Thy. Et samfund i forandring. Historisk årbog for Thy og Vester Hanherred (1996): 29-36. —. 1998. Overgangen fra ældre til Yngre Bronzealder. Et eksempel fra Nordvestjylland, Danmark. In T. Løken (ed.), Bronzealder i norden – regioner og interaksjon. Foredrag ved det 7. Nordiske bronzealdersymposium i Rogaland 31. August – 3. September 1995, pp. 23-34. Stavanger: Arkeologisk Museum i Stavanger. Høilund Nielsen, K. and C. P. Loveluck, 2006. Fortid og fremtid på Stavnsager: om de Britiske undersøgelser August 2005 og de foreløbige resultater Kulturhistorisk Museum Randers Årborg 2006, pp. 63-79. Jakobsen, T. B. 2007. Birth of a World Museum. Acta Archaeologica

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Supplementa VIII. Johansen, K., S. Lambert, T. Laursen and M. Kähler Holst, 2003. Spatial patterns of social organization in the early Bronze Age of south Scandinavia. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 23(1): 33-55. Jones, S. 1997. The archaeology of ethnicity: Constructing identities in the past and present, London: Routledge. —. 2007. Discourses of identity in the interpretation of the past. In P. Graves-Brown, S. Jones and C. Gamble (eds.), Cultural identity and archaeology, pp. 62-80. London: Routledge. Kowalewski, S. A. 2008. Regional Settlement Pattern Studies. Journal of Archaeological Research 16: 225-285. Kristiansen, K. 1983. Kriger og høvding i Danmarks Bronzealder. Et bidrag til Bronzealdersværdets kulturhistorie. In B. Stjernquist (ed.), Struktur och förandring i bronsålderens samhälle, pp. 63-87. Lund: University of Lund. Institute of Archaeology. Kristiansen, K. and T. B. Larsson, 2005. The Rise of Bronze Age Society. Travels, Transmissions and Transformations. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kristiansen, K. 1998. The construction of a Bronze Age landscape. Cosmology, economy and social organisation in Thy, northwest Jutland. In B. Hänsel (ed.), Mensch und umwelt in der Bronzezeit Europas, pp. 281-291. Kiel: University of Berlin. Kutschera, M. And T. A. Warås, 2000. Steinalderlokaliteten på ”Breiviksklubben” på Bratt-Helgaland i Karmøy kommune. In T. Løken (ed.), Åsgard – Natur- og kulturhistoriske undersøkelser langs en gassrør-trasé i Karmøy og Tysvær, Rogaland. AMS-Rapport 14, pp. 61-96. Stavanger: Arkeologisk Museum i Stavanger. Larsson, L. 2001. Uppåkra, an Iron Age site with a long duration. Internal and external perspectives. In B. Arrhenius (ed.), Kingdoms and regionality, transactions from the 49th Sachsensymposium, 1998, pp. 55-61. Stockholm: Archaeological Research Laboratory, Stockholm University. —. 2002. Uppåkra – research on a central place. Recent excavations and results. In B. Hårdh and L. Larsson (eds.), Central places in the Migration and Merovingian periods, pp. 19-31. Lund: Lund University. Larsson, L. and B. Hårdh (eds.), 2003. Centrality-regionality: The social structure of southern Sweden during the Iron Age. Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International. Lillehammer, G. 1987. Looking for individuals in archaeological burial data. In R. Bertelsen, A. Lillehammer and J.-R. Næss (eds.), Were they

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all men? An examination of sex roles in prehistoric society, pp. 79-88. Stavanger: Archaeological Museum of Stavanger. —. 2007. The past in the present. Landscape perception, archaeological heritage and marginal farmland in Jæren, South-western Norway'. Norwegian Archaeological Review 40(2): 159-178. Linderholm, J. 2007. Soil chemical surveying: A path to a deeper understanding of prehistoric sites and societies in Sweden. Geoarchaeology: An International Journal 22(4): 417–438. Madsen, T. and H. Juel Jensen, 1982. Settlement and Land Use in Early Neolithic Denmark. Analecta Praehistorica Leidensia 15: 63-86. Madsen, T. 1982. Settlement Systems of Early Agricultural Societies in East Jutland, Denmark: A Regional Study of Change. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 1: 197-236. —. 1988. Causewayed Enclosures in South Scandinavia. In C. Burgess, P. Topping, C. Mordant and M. Maddison (eds.), Enclosures and Defences in the Neolithic of Western Europe, BAR International Series 403(i), pp. 301-336. Oxford: Archaeopress. Mathiassen, T. 1948. Studier over Vestjyllands oldtidsbebyggelse. Copenhagen: National Museum of Denmark. —. 1959. Nordvestsjællands oldtidsbebyggelse. Copenhagen: National Museum of Denmark. Meskell, L. 2001. Archaeologies of Identity. In I. Hodder (ed.), Archaeological Theory Today, pp. 186-213. Cambridge: Polity Press. Montelius, O. 1885. Om tidsbestämning inom Bronsåldern med särskild hänsyn till Skandinavien. Kongl. Copenhagen: Vitterhets Historie och Antiqvitetes Akademiens. Nielsen, A. B. and B. V. Odgaard, 2005. Reconstructing land cover from pollen assemblages from small lakes in Denmark. Review of Palaeobotany and Palynology 133: 1-21. Olofsson, A. and H. Olsson, 1999. The Mesolithic in Värmland: Research status. In J. Boaz (ed.) The Mesolithic of Central Scandinavia, pp. 7386. Oslo: Oslo University. Øye, I. 2005. Introduction. In I. Holm, S. Innselset and I. Øye (eds.), ‘Utmark’: The outfield as industry and ideology in the Iron Age and the Middle Ages, pp. 9-20. Bergen: University of Bergen Archaeological Series 1. Prescott, C. 1995. From Stone Age to Iron Age: A study from Sogn, Western Norway. BAR International Series S603. Oxford: Archaeopress. Price, T. D. 1995. Social inequality at the origins of agriculture. In T. D. Price and G. M. Feinman (eds.), Foundations of Social Inequality, pp.

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129-154. New York: Springer. Prøsch-Danielsen, L. and M. Høgestøl, 1995. A coastal Ahrensburgian site found at Galta, Rennesøy, Southwest Norway. In A. Fischer (ed.), Man and Sea in the Mesolithic, pp. 123–130. Oxford: Oxbow Monographs. Randsborg, K. 1968. Von periode ii zu iii. Chronologische studien über die ältere Bronzezeit Südskandinaviens und Norddeutschlands. Acta Archaeologica XXXIX. —. 1972. From period iii to period iv. Chronological studies of the Bronze Age in Southern Scandinavia and Northern Germany. Copenhagen: National Museum of Denmark. —. 1975. Befolkning og social variation i ældre Bronzealders Danmark. KUML 1973-74: 197-208. —. 1980. The Viking Age in Denmark: The formation of a state. London: Duckworth. —. 1998. Region, culture and society: Understanding antiquity from the field. Oxford Journal Of Archaeology 17(3): 245-255. Rasmussen, M. (1993). Bopladskeramik i ældre Bronzealder. Aarhus: Aarhus University Press. Risbøl, O., T. Risan, R. Bjørnstad, S. Fretheim and B. H. Eketuft Rygh, 2002. Kulturminner og kulturmiljø i Gråfjell, regionfelt østlandet, åmot kommune i Hedmark. Arkeologiske registreringer 2002, fase 4, Oslo: Norsk institutt for kulturminneforskning. Rønne, P. 1987. Stilvariationer i ældre Bronzealder. Undersøgelser over lokalforskelle i brug af ornamenter og oldsager i Bronzealderens anden periode. Aarbøger for nordisk Oldkyndighed og Historie 1986: 71-124. Schülke, A. 2009. Tragtbægerkulturens landskabsrum: udtryk og ramme for social kommunikation. Et studie over Nordvestsjælland. In A. Schülke (ed.) Plads og rum i Tragtbægerkulturen, Nordiske Fortidsminder, Series C, vol. 6, 67-87. Skre, D. 1999. Review of Hans Andersson, Peter Carelli, and Lars Ersgård (eds.), Visions of the past. Trends and traditions in Swedish Medieval archaeology. Norwegian Archaeological Review 32(1): 70-72. —. 2001. The social context of settlement in Norway in the first millennium AD. Norwegian Archaeological Review 34(1): 1-12. —. 2001. Reply to comments on the social context of settlement in Norway in the first millennium AD. Norwegian Archaelogical Review 34(1): 24-34. Sørensen, M. L. S. 1999. Review - J. Jensen: Fra bronze- til jernalder. En kronologisk undersøgelse. Norwegian Archaeological Review 32(2): 120-122. Sørensen, M. L. S., J. D. Hill and S. Lucy, 2001. Long-term history on a

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Danish island: The Als project. Acta Archaeologica 72: 91-107. Steinberg, J. M. 1996. Ploughzone sampling in Denmark: Isolating and interpreting site signatures from disturbed contexts. Antiquity 70: 368392. Stene, K. (ed.) 2008. Gråfjellprosjektet. Arkeologiske utgravninger ved rena elv og i Gråfjellområdet, åmot kommune, Hedmark årsrapport 2007. Oslo: Kulturhistorisk museum, Universitetet i Oslo. Stene, K., T. Amundsen, O. Risbøl and K. Skare. 2005. Utmarkens grøde. Mellom registrering og utgravning i Graåfjellområdet, Østerdalen Varia 59. Stjernquist, B. (ed.) 1981. Gårdelösa: An Iron Age community in its natural and social setting Interdisciplinary Studies I. Lund: Acta Regiae Societatis Humaniorum Litterarum Lundensis. —. 1993a. Gårdlösa. An Iron Age community in its natural and social setting. II The archaeological fieldwork, the features, and the finds. Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International. —. 1993b. Gårdlösa. An Iron Age community in its natural and social setting. III. Chronological, economic and social analyses. Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International. Strömberg, M. 1980. The Hagestad Investigation. Meddelanden från Lunds Universitets Historiska Museum 1979-80: 192-265. Taylor, W. W. 1948. A Study of Archeology. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press. Thrane, H. (ed.) 1975a. Bebyggelsearkæologi. Odense: Odense University Press. —. 1975b. Europæiske forbindelser. Bidrag til studiet af fremmede forbindelser i Danmarks yngre Broncealder (periode iv–v). Copenhagen: National Museum of Denmark. —. (ed.) 1979b. Fra Jernalder til Middelalder. Odense: Odense University Press. —. (ed.) 1987. Diakrone bybuggleses-undersøgelser. Odense: Odense University Press. Thurston, T. L. 2006. The barren and the fertile: Central and local intensification strategies across variable landscapes. In J. Marcus and C. Stanish (eds.), Agricultural Strategies, pp. 131-161. Los Angeles: Cotsen Institiute of Archaeology Press. —. 2007. Infields, outfields, and broken lands: Agricultural intensification and the ordering of space in Iron Age Denmark. In T. L. Thurston and C. T. Fisher (eds.), Seeking a richer harvest: The archaeology of subsistence intensification, innovation and change, pp. 155-191. New York: Springer.

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CHAPTER FOUR A MULTI-SCALAR APPROACH TO SETTLEMENT PATTERN ANALYSIS: THE TRANSITION FROM THE LATE NEOLITHIC TO THE EARLY COPPER AGE ON THE GREAT HUNGARIAN PLAIN ATTILA GYUCHA, WILLIAM A. PARKINSON AND RICHARD W. YERKES

Introduction The transition from the Neolithic to the Copper Age is a remarkable period in the prehistory of the Great Hungarian Plain (Parkinson 2006a). The changes in this period fundamentally transformed nearly all aspects of social life in the region. Recent research conducted by the HungarianAmerican Körös Regional Archaeological Project in the Körös Valley of southeastern Hungary has yielded a wide variety of information with respect to this transitional period (see Gyucha et al. 2004; Gyucha et al. 2006; Parkinson et al. 2002; Parkinson et al. 2004; Yerkes et al. 2007) . The multi-scalar approach proposed in this chapter helps us model how Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age settlements were used and organized at the regional level, as well as how social boundaries and the nature of interaction changed over time. We discuss the constraints and possibilities of interpreting data about the paleoenvironment, material culture, economy and social organization of the region and propose a model for explaining the changes that occurred on the Great Hungarian Plain around 4500 BC. We argue that regional analyses are most productive – and informative – when they incorporate several scales of analysis, including local and regional scales (see Parkinson 2006b). Such studies, however, are limited to those areas that have been the subject of

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not only intensive survey, but also extensive excavations, which permit these various analytical scales to be explored using different archaeological datasets.

Figure 4-1. Map of Carpathian Basin showing the Great Hungarian Plain and the Körös River Valley.

The archaeological background: the transition between the Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age on the Great Hungarian Plain– models of change Near the middle of the 5th millennium BC, various changes emerged in the eastern part of the Carpathian Basin, on the Great Hungarian Plain. The transition between Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age marked by significant changes in the archaeological record indicate that several aspects of social life changed about 4500 BC (see Parkinson et al. 2004). The three discrete Late Neolithic groups of the Plain, the Tisza, Herpály and CsĘszhalom cultures, were replaced by a considerably homogeneous cultural complex, the Tiszapolgár culture, which occupied the entire Plain and extended into the foothills of southern Slovakia and western Romania (Bognár-Kutzián 1972; Iercoúan 2002; Šiška 1968). Mortuary practices

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also changed by the Early Copper Age when, as throughout southeastern Europe, the first formal cemeteries isolated from the settlements were established on the Plain (Bognár-Kutzián 1963). The distribution of lithic raw materials suggests that trade networks altered as well (T. Bíró 1991). Although the causes of these overall changes have been obscured by a lack of intensive investigation of Early Copper Age settlement sites, the social and political reorganization that took place in the middle of 5th millennium BC needs to be explained within methods of social organization that occur within tribal or “transegalitarian” societies (see Parkinson 2002; Parkinson and Gyucha 2007). Several models have been proposed to explain the changes during the transition between the Neolithic and Copper Age. Most of these explanations have been based on a few observations of settlement organization. These observations include: 1. Tells and large horizontal settlements were abandoned by the end of the Neolithic. 2. Early Copper Age settlements were small, ephemeral phenomena in the landscape. 3. Compared to the Late Neolithic, the numbers of the settlements significantly increased in the Early Copper Age. The explanations that were based on these observations include: 1. Proto-Indo-European horse-riders invaded the Plain (Gimbutas 1973, 1977, 1991; Mallory 1989). 2. Due to radical climatic change, the economy shifted from agriculturalism to pastoralism with an increased reliance on cattle husbandry in the Early Copper Age on the Plain, which would have required more frequent relocation of the settlements (Bánffy 1994; Bognár-Kutzián 1972; Bökönyi 1986; Horváth 2005; Siklódi 19821983). 3. Population growth in the Late Neolithic led to scalar stress in the communities, which resulted in the dissolution of the social organization of the period (Horváth 1983; Kalicz 1987-1988; Makkay 1982; Parkinson 2006a). 4. Conflicts between the agriculturalist tell-communities and the smallscale animal-keeping communities eventually gave rise to the disorganization of the Late Neolithic settlement pattern (Ecsedy 1981; Horváth 1989).

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At the end of the 20th century, research into Late Neolithic settlements of the Great Hungarian Plain, particularly tells and large horizontal sites, has been one of the major fields of Hungarian prehistoric archaeology (HegedĦs and Makkay 1987; Horváth 1985; Horváth 1987; Horváth 1988; Horváth 2005; Kalicz and Raczky 1986; Kalicz and Raczky 1987a; Kalicz and Raczky 1987b; Korek 1987; Raczky 1987; Raczky 1998; Raczky et al. 1994; Raczky et al.1997; Raczky et al. 2002). Due to a lack of systematic investigations at Early Copper Age settlements, however, combined with a lack of regional settlement pattern studies in both periods, data has not been available to test the models for explaining the transition to the Copper Age. This chapter focuses primarily on the transformations in the settlement network in the Körös Valley during the transition from the Late Neolithic to the Early Copper Age (see Figure 4-1). We argue that a better understanding of the above-mentioned changes can be gained by carefully analyzing the spatial organization of the Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age settlements and their relationships to the ancient landscape. Combining the results of these investigations with site-based research facilitates the researcher’s ability to test existing models and to clarify the transition between the Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age on the Great Hungarian Plain.

The Study Area The Hungarian part of the Körös Valley, located in the southeastern Carpathian Basin, is roughly 3 meters lower than its surrounding area. The area is almost perfectly flat, with elevations ranging between 83 and 102 meters above sea level. The different branches of the Körös River, the Fehér- (White), Fekete- (Black) and Sebes- (Rapid) Körös, as well as the Berettyó River constitute the most significant geographical elements of the area. Each of these rivers originates in the Western Carpathians and the Körös branches flow west until they merge to form the Hármas- (Triple) Körös. The Berettyó also joins the Hármas-Körös in the western portion of the basin. The Hármas-Körös drains into the Tisza River in the middle of the Plain. Deep-coring data indicate that by the earliest phase of the Holocene the rivers assumed their current places in the region (Mike 1991; Nádor et al. 2007). The drainage area of the Körös-Berettyó region in present day Hungary covers an area of 12,931 km2 (Dóka 1997). Our study area focuses on the eastern portion of the Körös drainage located in northeastern Békés County, an area of approximately 2500 km2.

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The Körös Valley was the main west-east corridor throughout prehistory that linked the heartland of the Great Hungarian Plain with the rich ore and lithic resources of Transylvania. Prior to hydrological regulation in the 19th century, which radically changed the landscape, a very complex, subtle and tangled river system with permanent and seasonal rivers and streams dominated the topography of the region throughout the Holocene (see Figure 4-2). Large permanent and seasonal marshlands fed by the Berettyó and the Körös rivers also existed in the Körös Valley. Before regulation, the area was prone to biannual floods one in early spring and another in early summer. During flooding, the lower areas were inundated for weeks or even months. As a result, archaeological sites from the Early Neolithic to the end of the Middle Ages tend to be found almost exclusively at higher elevations in the Körös Valley, on the low ridges stretching along the riverbeds and on the islands in the flooded areas.

Site-based research at Early Copper Age sites in the Körös Valley: the Early Copper Age settlements of VésztĘ-Bikeri and Körösladány-Bikeri To gain a better understanding of the socioeconomic transformations during the transition between the Neolithic and Copper Age the Körös Regional Archaeological Project has conducted investigations at several Early Copper Age sites in the Körös Valley since 2000. These research integrated geomorphological, geophysical and geochemical studies with surface surveys and excavations (Sarris et al. 2004; Parkinson et al. 2004; Yerkes et al. 2007). The complex investigations in the central part of the study region, near the modern city of VésztĘ, revealed the layout and spatial organization of two Tiszapolgár settlements and provided valuable data on settlement-use, economy and social organization.

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Figure 4-2. Map of Körös River Valley showing main hydrological features and soil types.

VésztĘ-Bikeri and Körösladány-Bikeri, the excavated sites, are located on the opposite sites of a paleomeander about 60 meters apart (see Figure 4-3), approximately two kilometers south of the well-known, multicomponent, tell site of VésztĘ-Mágor (HegedĦs and Makkay 1987). The geophysical investigations and the systematic excavations identified fortifications with multiple, concentric circular ditches accompanying by an innermost palisade with deep postholes at both sites (Sarris 2004; Sarris and Catanoso 2005; Sarris et al. 2004; Yerkes et al. 2007). The areas surrounded by the enclosures measured ca. 0.4 ha. In the central part of VésztĘ-Bikeri our investigations exposed several large buildings. Two of these rectilinear, one-roomed longhouses with wall trenches were completely excavated (Gyucha et al. 2006). The western structure (14 x 6 meters) was cleaned out before it was abandoned, while in the eastern structure (10 x 6 meters) several groups of ceramic vessels and a small area of antler tine arrow-heads and their manufacture debitage were recovered below the debris of the burned wattle-and-daub walls of the building (Parkinson et al. 2004). The discrete

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clusters of artifacts might be indicative of different activity areas within the structure. Northwest of this house part of another building was excavated where, in addition to a large number of complete vessels, several loom-weights related to textile production were exposed. The buildings in the central area were surrounded by pits and possible hearths. South of the longhouses a well or cistern filled with burned daub also was identified. The feature was used later as an oven or kiln. The thick vertical stratigraphy at VésztĘ-Bikeri, which extended as deep as 90 cm below the plowzone at the center of the site, is indicative of continued long-term use of the Early Copper Age settlement. Our soil chemical investigations revealed low concentrations of phosphate at the centre of the site and high levels near the fortification. This suggests that the organic waste of the inhabitants was deposited at the perimeter of the settlement, this corresponds with a midden area we identified just inside the palisade at the southeastern portion of the site, and it also may have been a location where animals were kept. With the exception of two Hungarian conquest age burials, exclusively Tiszapolgár artifacts were recovered from the site and all the radiocarbon samples date to this period (4400-4200 BC). At Körösladány-Bikeri a large number of rectilinear and circular anomalies were identified. As at VésztĘ-Bikeri, these consisted of two wide and deep outer ditches and an inner palisade. Intensive surface collections conducted at the site prior to excavation indicated that some of these features might date to later periods. Although most of the features recovered during the excavation proved to be Early Copper Age in origin, some of them, particularly in the northern part of the site, dated to the Late Bronze Age (13 to 9 century BC) and Sarmatian Age (2-4 century AD). The artifacts, stratigraphy, and the analyzed radiocarbon samples of confirm that the fortification was associated with the Tiszapolgár settlement.

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Figure 4-3. Map of Körösladány-Bikeri and VésztĘ-Bikeri showing magnetic anomalies and excavation units.

Although we were not able to identify wall foundation trenches similar to those at VésztĘ-Bikeri, we did excavate several Copper Age pits and a trench within the palisade. These features indicate that there were two distinct phases of habitation during the Early Copper Age, one of which began stratigraphically at the base of the Copper Age strata, and the other that began in the plowzone. As at VésztĘ-Bikeri, we also identified a well in the western part of Körösladány-Bikeri just inside the palisade. In contrast to the stratigraphy at VésztĘ-Bikeri, the intact vertical stratigraphy of the Körösladány site was shallower, not exceeding 20-30 centimeter below the plowzone. This phenomenon may be related to erosional processes and/or post-Early Copper Age activities. Although the soil chemical investigations at Körösladány-Bikeri show fundamentally the same pattern as at VésztĘ-Bikeri, with the highest level of phosphate close to the edge of the fortification, the pattern is less well defined. It also may have been influenced by the later habitations at the site. The dates of the

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Tiszapolgár radiocarbon samples of Körösladány-Bikeri range between ca. 4300-4100 BC. Three Early Copper Age graves were recovered at each site. Five out of the six burials were infants and, except for a grave at VésztĘ-Bikeri found next to a house, all were located in the outer parts of the settlements. The only adult Tiszapolgár burial was placed over a posthole of the platform of the enclosure at VésztĘ-Bikeri, which suggests that it was buried after the removal of the post, possibly following the abandonment of the settlement. Geophysical investigations also were conducted at two more sites in the same micro-region. At Okány-Futás, in addition to smaller circular anomalies, a rectangular and a long, straight linear anomalies were identified. Based on our results at VésztĘ-Bikeri the rectangular anomaly might be interpreted as a longhouse with foundation trenches while the linear anomaly probably represents a ditch (Parkinson and Gyucha 2007). Although the majority of the ceramic sherds collected during systematic surface collection are typical Tiszapolgár types, some sherds also belong to the Migration period (5-6th century AD). At VésztĘ-Mágor the results of the geophysical investigation suggest a massive, multiple ditch-system surrounding the tell. Without excavation of these features we do not know when the features were constructed and used since the tell was occupied from the late Middle Neolithic through the Copper Age to the Middle Bronze Age.

Regional research: the Körös Valley in the Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age The Körös Valley provides a unique opportunity in Europe to investigate the spatial organization of settlements at the regional scale in nearly any archaeological period. Due to the Hungarian Archaeological Topography project, which started in the 1960’s, the Körös Valley and the northern part of the Maros Fan were completely surveyed in Békés County by the end of the 1990’s (Ecsedy et al. 1982; Jankovich et al. 1989, 1998). As a result of intensive archaeological survey, more than 10,000 archaeological sites were discovered in this 3800 km² large area. This long-term diachronic project focused primarily on locating the sites as well as defining their chronology and spatial extent, resulting in excellent datasets for further spatial analyses (see Parkinson 2006a).

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The ancient landscape of the Körös Valley To gain a better understanding of the prehistoric, economic and social processes that took place in a particular region the major characteristics and the development of the ancient natural environment must first be understood. We focus on two major environmental factors that might have dramatically influenced the locations of prehistoric settlements in the Körös Valley: the regional hydrology and the surface deposits. In addition to tectonic processes, the alluvial deposition of rivers played the most important role in the formation of the landscape in the study region. During the Pleistocene, in addition to the ancient Körös rivers, the meanders of the ancient Tisza migrated in the landscape along a NW-SE axis, while the Maros River stretched along the southern edge of the region (Gábris and Nádor 2007; Mike 1991; Somogyi 1969). By the Late Pleistocene, both rivers migrated out of the region, the former one moving northwest, and the latter one gradually moving south. The Berettyó and the numerous branches of the Körös rivers dominated the hydrology of the region in the Holocene. Small-scale canalization in the Körös region occurred in the Medieval Ages, and significant regulation projects began only during the second half of the 18th century. At the beginning of the 19th century, large-scale water regulation campaigns started in the Körös Valley to protect the region from flooding and to drain the extensive marshlands (Vázsonyi 1973; Dóka 1997). The length of the Berettyó and Körös rivers was shortened by hundreds of kilometers, by cutting meanders off and creating new riverbeds and canals. These processes fundamentally transformed the natural environment and possibilities for land-use in the Körös Valley. As a result, the current network of rivers and canals has only a limited capacity to inform us of the constraints and potential of the natural environment in ancient times. To gain a better understanding of the pre-regulation Körös Valley hydrology and its changes during the Holocene, we have developed a paleohydrological model of the Körös Valley by integrating various data sources to identify ancient hydrological features in the landscape and to model what the hydrological landscape would have looked like before regulation in the Körös Valley (Gyucha and Duffy 2008). These sources included large-scale Habsburg military maps created in the 18th and 19th centuries, other old maps of the region, including topographic maps from the second half of the 20th century, and high-resolution aerial photos taken

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at the very beginning of the 21st century. Comparison of active meanders and historically documented, but currently dry, pre-regulation riverbeds with topographic maps and aerial photos allowed us to discern the topographic signatures of old water courses. By overlaying this paleohydrological reconstruction with the valuable dataset of the known archaeological sites, we were able to keep of the occupation of meanders over time. In addition to isolating paleochannels of different ages, we confirmed areas that were marshlands in the study region before regulation and that extended far back into prehistory (see Figure 4-2). The most significant permanent marshlands were the Kis-Sárrét fed by the Sebes-Körös and the Nagy-Sárrét fed by the Berettyó. In addition to these historically documented marshlands, there also were another two, more or less permanent marshlands in the region: the Pósár, fed by the Hármas-Körös, and the Sarkad Lake, which was fed by the various branches of the Feketeand Sebes-Körös. Other perennial and seasonal marshlands, smaller in extent, also existed in the Körös Valley. Due to frequent inundation, the permanent or seasonal standing water covered an area of more than 1900 km2 before the regulation works. Previous studies on the paleoenvironment of the Holocene in the Körös region have described the landscape in the Körös Valley before the regulation as extremely unstable, with meandering rivers and streams that frequently changed course over time (Dóka 1997; Papp 1956; Pécsi and Sárfalvi 1960). Archaeologists have historically used this dynamic model to understand the context in which cultural changes took place throughout the Holocene (Kosse 1979; Sherratt 1984). Our results contradict these assumptions. When the reconstructed hydrology is compared with archaeological settlement data, it appears that the vast majority of paleochannels were occupied in all archaeological periods. Moreover, not only the major streams, the Körös and Berettyó rivers, but also their tributaries and streams seem to have been very stable for at least 8000 years, since the first sedentary communities appeared in the region. The majority of the recognizable channel segments were occupied throughout the history from the earliest phase of the prehistory until the end of the Medieval Ages. The stability of the river system probably resulted from the low energy hydrological environment (Frolking 2004; Sauer 2005). Due to the flatness of the region even the major rivers lacked the capacity to create cut-offs during the Holocene.

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Our reconstruction also suggests that in the northern part of the study area, between the ancient Berettyó and the Körös rivers, there may have been no active water channels during the Holocene. The meanders in this area do not match the geometry of the majority of river segments in the Körös river system, nor do they articulate with the rest of the network. Consequently, in accordance with the results of recent geomorphological research in the region (Sümegi 2007; Nádor et al. 2007; Thamó-Bozsó et al. 2007), we argue that these channels were created by Late Pleistocene rivers, when the Tisza river migrated across the area. In contrast to the Körös Valley, the northern part of the Maros Fan does not appear to have had permanent watercourses during the Holocene. We consulted the soil profiles of the region as well. The hydromorphic soils in the Körös Valley also reflect the importance of water in the formation of the paleoenvironment. The different variants of meadow clay are the predominant surface soils of the area. Since these remarkably compact soils are formed under wet circumstances, they also suggest that large areas were inundated with water, either perennially or during parts of the year. Along the southern edge of the study region, on the Maros Fan, the much more arable chernozems predominate. These are zonal soils that develop largely as a consequence of climatic effects and grassy vegetation.

Settlement organization in the Late Neolithic and the Early Copper Age in the Körös Valley By integrating the paleohydrological model and the distribution of different soil types with information from settlement patterns, we can explore the spatial distribution of the Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age sites from both ecological and social perspectives (see Figure 4-4 and 4-5). Since, in addition to the Körös Valley, the northern part of the Maros Fan also was included in our study area it is possible to compare two geographically discrete and environmentally distinct regions. The ecological analyses of the Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age settlements in the study region suggest remarkable continuity with regard to the locations of the sites in the landscape. However, a large number of Early Copper Age sites in the Körös Valley appeared in micro-regions that had not been occupied in the previous period. Furthermore, the environmental characteristics of these newly occupied micro-regions are very similar to those areas that were inhabited during the Late Neolithic.

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Figure 4-4. Map showing the distribution of Late Neolithic sites in the Körös River Valley

In both the Late Neolithic and in the Early Copper Age, the settlements almost exclusively (97% of the Late Neolithic, 95% of the Early Copper Age sites) occurred along riverbeds in the Körös Valley. The same basic environmental factor seems to have influenced the location of the settlements in both periods: proximity to watercourses. However, it was not the major rivers but the streams, smaller tributaries and the edges of the seasonally inundated areas of the major rivers that were primarily occupied. In the heart of the Körös Valley, these streams might have been permanently or seasonally active. As noted earlier, remnants of dead river meanders, which seem to have been Pleistocene paleochannels, also were identified in the region. The Körös-Berettyó interfluve, the marshy Dévaványa Plain is especially important in this respect. Except for the Berettyó River, there may not have been active waterways throughout the Holocene in this micro-region. The Late Neolithic settlements were located largely in the western part of the micro-region, close to the Berettyó. Moreover, during the Early Copper Age the settlements spread across almost the whole area in great number. The site-density of the interfluve also represents this change well:

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the value is 61.4 km²/site for the Late Neolithic and 7.1 km²/site for the Early Copper Age. Most of the Early Copper Age sites on the Dévaványa Plain were established on the hills stretching along the very wide, swampy Pleistocene oxbows. North of this micro-region the area of the permanent marsh of the Nagy-Sárrét was not inhabited during the Late Neolithic or the Early Copper Age. Likewise, between the Dévaványa Plain and the Hármas-Körös an area of approximately 200 km² remained uninhabited in both periods. The paleohydrological reconstruction suggests there was another permanent marshland in this region fed by the Hármas-Körös, the so-called Pósár. Only one small archaeological site, dated to the 2-4th century AD, was recorded during the archaeological topography survey in this area.

Figure 4-5. Map showing the distribution of Early Copper Age sites in the Körös River Valley and the sites mentioned in the paper.

A similar situation can be inferred in the eastern part of the study area where the Sarkad Lake used to cover an area almost twice as large as the Pósár. Although some significant paleomeanders are identifiable in the micro-region, only the high banks of the Köles-stream, located along the northern edge of the marshland, were occupied in both the Late Neolithic and the Early Copper Age. It was only during the Early Bronze Age,

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around 2500 BC, when settlements first appeared in greater number along the rivers in the southern and middle parts of the Sarkad Lake area. The major river of the micro-region, the Fás-stream, continued beyond the marshy micro-region in a northwest direction. Several Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age sites were discovered exclusively along this lower part of the stream. In contrast to the Nagy-Sárrét marshland, both Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age sites were identified in the area of the permanent swamp of the Kis-Sárrét. Each settlement was located on the ridges of one paleomeander, probably Pleistocene in origin. In the southernmost part of the Körös Valley the vast majority, of Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age sites are clustered along the edge of the flooded areas near the major rivers, on the banks of a long stream. A tributary of this stream continued westwards and this part of the landscape was unoccupied during the Late Neolithic, while a discrete group of Early Copper Age settlements can be identified here. Between this Tiszapolgár settlement cluster and another one, a 10-kilometer wide micro-region was unoccupied during both the Late Neolithic and the Early Copper Age. The lack of sites could be explained by the fact that there was no active watercourse during the Holocene in this micro-region; the only recognizable paleomeander has Pleistocene morphological characteristics. Despite of the fact that there used to be large areas covered with marshlands in the centre of the Körös Valley, between the Dévaványa Plain and the Maros Fan, the density of the sites was 44.5 km²/site in the Late Neolithic and 7.9 km²/site in the Early Copper Age in this subregion. The Maros Fan, the alluvium of the Pleistocene Maros, did not have permanent rivers during the Holocene. Our model indicates that, in contrast to the Körös Valley, the northern part of the Maros Fan was very sparsely populated both in the Late Neolithic and the Early Copper Age. The site-density here is far lower than in the Körös Valley: 470.7 km²/site in the Late Neolithic and 44.8 km²/site in the Early Copper Age. Most of the sites from both periods, however, are located along the border zone of the Körös Valley. The pattern of the Maros Fan looks remarkably similar to the area of the Sárréts, Pósár and Sarkad Lake; however, marshlands in this region cannot be inferred. Consequently, it is likely that the sharp contrast between the densely populated Körös Valley and the sparsely populated Maros fan can be attributed to the differences in surface soil

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types and hydrology. This pattern does not change until the large-scale transition to herding economies in the Late Bronze Age and Iron Age when settlements were established first time in a large number in the fertile, grassy zone of the northern part of the Maros Fan (Gyucha 2001). Since there are relatively few Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age sites along the major, permanent rivers such as the KettĘs- and HármasKörös, it seems that for these communities of the Körös Valley river permanency was not the most important factor governing site location. According to the old maps of the region and written records prior to the regulation most river segments, except for the major rivers, filled up with water during inundation for a couple weeks or months then became marsh. The meanders were essential, not only as a potable water source for humans, but also for other resources, such as trade routes, building materials, and for providing aquatic resources as well as cultivatable lands. Our excavations also have identified wells, probably for drinking water, at Körösladány-Bikeri and VésztĘ-Bikeri as well as another Tiszapolgár site at Gyula-Remete (Gyucha and Medgyesi 2001) The Körös region is remarkably homogeneous in terms of soil productivity. The different variants of meadow clay did not affect the establishment of settlements in either period. The number of Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age sites on each soil class are closely correlated with the proportions of soil types in the region. Frequently sites are located along the borderline of the two different soil types. The much more productive chernozems in the southern part of the Körös Valley did not attract settlements during these periods. This suggests that the watercourses and the resources available in their immediate vicinity were the primary factors that influenced the establishment of settlements in both periods. This also might be indicative of similar subsistence strategies that were employed during the Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age. Conversely, the fundamentally different landscape (without active rivers and the inapplicability of the subsistence strategies based on rivers and their immediate surroundings) might have been responsible for the almost complete abandonment of the Maros Fan in both periods. In social terms one of the most important features of Late Neolithic settlement organization on the Great Hungarian Plain, as well as in the Körös Valley, is its tendency towards nucleation. Smaller settlements tend

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to cluster around a fortified tell or a large flat site, which served as a focal unit of the settlement network of a given micro-region, tethering the settlements into discrete clusters (Parkinson 2002; Parkinson 2006a). Within these ‘focal’ Late Neolithic sites, separated house clusters, which likely correspond to kin-based economic units, have frequently been identified (Draúovean 1995; Ignat 1998; Kalicz-Raczky 1987a, 1987b; Korek 1972, 1987, 1989; Raczky 1987; Raczky et al. 1997). Discrete settlement clusters are clearly identifiable throughout the study region, especially in its western and central parts. Each of these clusters appears to have been organized along specific branches of rivers and contains 2 to 12 sites. Vast uninhabited areas, from 6 to 20 km, separate the clusters. In some cases, the paleohydrological reconstruction is indicative of marshlands in these blank areas, such as the Pósár and the Sarkad Lake, but more frequently the topographic characteristics of the uninhabited portions of the landscape are identical to the inhabited regions. This suggests that the borders of the clusters were actively maintained throughout the Late Neolithic (Parkinson 2006a). A different settlement system emerged during the Early Copper Age. The most striking difference is the more than six-fold increase in the number of the sites, within a roughly similar, 500-year time-span, from 62 sites in the Late Neolithic to 394 in the Early Copper Age. By the end of the Late Neolithic, tell-sites and large flat sites were mostly abandoned. Nevertheless, Early Copper Age clusters in the Körös region still can be discerned and they frequently are located in the areas of former Late Neolithic clusters. These Early Copper Age site clusters are larger in geographic extent and include far more settlements. We suggest that these clusters represent social groups that retained a certain level of continuity in social organization from the Late Neolithic to the Early Copper Age. A remarkable difference between the Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age patterns is the lack of ‘focal’ sites within Early Copper Age clusters, as well as a general tendency towards diffusion, particularly in the northern part of the study area. The borders of the majority of the Early Copper Age clusters became more permeable and less actively maintained than those of the Late Neolithic. The number of sites within these clusters ranges between 9 and 46, with most between 10 and 20. New settlement clusters were established in previously uninhabited micro-regions. During the Early Copper Age, settlements extended deep into formerly unoccupied areas. However, some large parts of the study

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area, although similar in terms of hydrology and soil types, were still not inhabited in the Early Copper Age. Thus, we argue that it is possible that these areas represent social boundaries that were maintained actively for hundreds of years. In addition to the changes in number and spatial organization of the sites in the study area, the change in the size of the settlements also is remarkable (Parkinson 2006a). The Early Copper Age sites are almost exclusively small, the average size (ca. 0.5-1 ha) is roughly half of the Late Neolithic ones. We suggest that the extended-family-based house clusters, that have been observed on numerous Late Neolithic tells and large horizontal sites, were themselves transformed into settlement units in the Early Copper Age through a process of dispersal. The results of our excavations at VésztĘ-Bikeri support this assumption (Parkinson et al. 2004). The more dispersed pattern of the settlement organization and the greater number of the sites also may be indicative of an increase in the degree of residential mobility in the Early Copper Age. However, our research at sites such as VésztĘ-Bikeri indicates that, as during the Late Neolithic, settlements with thick vertical stratigraphy and substantial fortifications persisted, at least into the beginning of the Early Copper Age.

Discussion: towards a model of the transition between Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age on the Great Hungarian Plain The archaeological evidence does not support the hypotheses that the transformations around 4500 BC could be associated with invasion or migration. Rather, these changes likely were instigated by the indigenous Late Neolithic population of the Plain, and probably resulted from complex social and economic processes (Bailey 2000; Whittle 1996). Other explanations, economic in nature, suggested that the smaller and numerous Tiszapolgár sites on the Plain were associated with the shift in the economy, from agriculture towards pastoralism by the Early Copper Age, which led to the more frequent relocation of settlements in the landscape (Bánffy 1994; Bognár-Kutzián 1972; Bökönyi 1986; Horváth 2005; Siklódi 1982-1983). The results of our excavations at Early Copper Age sites in the Körös region also bring this idea into question. The faunal

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analyses of three sites in the study area indicate that although cattle dominate the faunal assemblage of Gyula-Remete, a Tiszapolgár site at the southern edge of the Körös Valley (Gyucha and Medgyesi 2001), at VésztĘ-Bikeri this proportion is lower, while at Körösladány-Bikeri pig was the most common species and cattle was less frequent (Nicodemus 2003; Parkinson et al. 2004). That the vast grazing lands of the Maros Fan were almost entirely unoccupied in the Early Copper Age also contradicts an overall shift in the economy towards increasing pastoralism. During the Iron Age when the subsistence strategy of the communities of the Plain was based upon pastoral husbandry, the spatial distribution of the sites was the opposite of the Early Copper Age pattern: the Körös Valley was almost uninhabited, while the Maros Fan became densely populated (Gyucha 2001). Finally, data supporting radical climatic change in the Carpathian Basin around 4500 BC, which would have necessitated a shift in the subsistence strategies at the end of the Neolithic, continue to be elusive (Magyari et al. 2001; Starkel 1997; Sümegi 2004). We suggest that the tendency of Early Copper Age settlements to occur in previously uninhabited micro-regions in the Körös Valley that were very similar in terms of the natural sources available to those occupied in the Late Neolithic might be related to the unsustainability of the Late Neolithic economic system. The tightly clustered nature of Late Neolithic settlements, concentrating relatively large numbers of people into discrete regions on the landscape, would have resulted in the rapid overexploitation of local resources that had played an important role in subsistence. This, in turn, may have encouraged communities to move into previously uninhabited areas. In particular, we suggest the resources in question were cultivable land and wood. Since the region is a flatland without ore or lithic sources, the inaccessibility of other natural resources gave rise to the disintegration of the Late Neolithic settlement pattern. The productivity of the soils available for the sedentary farming communities within the Late Neolithic clusters were remarkably homogeneous, but the amount of lands suitable for crop cultivation might have been limited to those areas that were not perennially inundated, specifically the natural levees along the rivers and streams that were close enough to the settlements to carry out annual and cyclical cultivation practices (e.g. sowing, weeding, manuring, harvesting) efficiently and productively. Although we cannot assume that the poor quality soils of the region were rapidly depleted (Bogaard 2004), intensive crop husbandry might have been restricted largely to the relatively narrow

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zones of the ridges of the watercourses in the vicinity of the settlements. As the population of the settlements increased, the amount of productively cultivatable lands available for the communities decreased. A second possible limiting resource is wood. In the Körös region, with the exception of gallery forests along the rivers, large areas covered with woods cannot be postulated. According to the available data, there is a general trend of gradual deforestation of the Great Hungarian Plain throughout the Neolithic (Sümegi 2007; Willis 1997; Willis et al. 1995; Willis et al. 1998). As opposed to the preceding phases of the Neolithic, when settlement organization was more dispersed and the relocation of the sites was more frequent, the communities of long-lived, large, nucleated, Late Neolithic villages might have consumed the wood of their neighboring areas at such a pace that the natural growth of the trees could not keep up. The necessity of occupying new, formerly unoccupied, and frequently remote micro-regions may have led to the dispersal of smaller social groups from nucleated tell sites and shorter-lived ‘horizontal’ (i.e., nontell) sites and might have given rise to the breakdown of higher-order integrative mechanisms in the study area. These processes led eventually to the diffusion of the spatially discrete settlement clusters of the Late Neolithic. The shifts might have been driven by primarily economic reasons; however, social tensions and conflicts within the internal organization of communities also may have contributed to these processes (Makkay 1982; Parkinson 2006a). The small sites within the Late Neolithic settlement clusters usually have been interpreted as farmsteads tethered to the central, large settlements, but these sites also could represent newly formed independent economic units and an emerging tendency towards the dispersed settlement pattern as early as at the end of the Neolithic. Due to the dissolution of the centralized Late Neolithic settlement system, trade networks, focused primarily on the large tell-sites and horizontal sites, were reorganized. Consequently, items of long-distance trade became less accessible to Early Copper Age communities at the center of the Plain. The absence of a trade network centered on tells as primary nodes, and other factors such as the necessity of demographic reproduction, would have forced the smaller and spatially more dispersed communities to interact with each other more intensively and across longer distances in order to acquire necessary resources, such as copper and lithic

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raw materials. Analyses of lithic raw materials as well as stylistic attributes and chemical composition of Early Copper Age ceramics in the Körös Valley also are indicative of such processes (Hoekman-Sites et al. 2006; Parkinson 2006a, 2006b). This tendency eventually may have resulted in the homogenization of material culture on the Great Hungarian Plain, and slightly beyond during the Early Copper Age. This explains the greater homogeneity within Tiszapolgár material culture, as compared to the regional differentiation expressed in the Tisza-Herpály-CsĘszhalom complex of the Late Neolithic. Competition for resources also may have given rise to conflicts at the local and micro-regional level. The fortifications at Tiszapolgár sites such as VésztĘ-Bikeri and Körösladány-Bikeri may be indications of violent reactions to such tensions. The more diffuse settlement clusters of the Early Copper Age, particularly in the northern Körös region, also may be indicative of more frequent or more comprehensive changes in social boundaries in that area during the Early Copper Age, possibly as a consequence of these conflicts. Conversely, along the boundary of the Körös Valley and the Maros Fan, where a wider variety of resources were available and where the most important transportation routes were, the social boundaries represented by discrete clusters appear to be remarkably stable throughout the Early Copper Age. The dramatic, more than six-fold, increase in the number of sites by the Early Copper Age in the study region may be related to several factors. In addition to the aforementioned dispersal into smaller Early Copper Age settlements, which we infer were established by individual corporate units that previously had occupied house clusters within the larger Late Neolithic sites, an increased degree of settlement mobility in the Early Copper Age also may have contributed to this pattern. In addition to local conflicts, several other possibilities also might have been responsible for the more frequent relocation of the Early Copper Age sites. One of the major factors could have been the more risky environment where the new settlements were established. In these newly populated regions, the frequency of floods and their impact on the local environment and the water table would have been less predictable than in regions that had been occupied throughout the end of the Neolithic.

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Conclusions Although previous models of the transition from the Late Neolithic to the Early Copper Age on the Great Hungarian Plain were based primarily on patterns inferred from settlement distributions, few scholars have attempted systematic, problem-oriented investigations of these patterns at different geographic scales. In addition to systematic, detailed research at several Tiszapolgár sites in the Körös Valley, we also have explored and compared the spatial organization of the Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age settlements at the regional level in an area of approximately 4000 km². The results of our research at both of these geographic and social scales suggest that other models better explain the transition to the Copper Age in this region. Our research at the site level indicates more continuity between the Late Neolithic and the Early Copper Age then previously suggested. The layout and organization of Körösladány-Bikeri and VésztĘ-Bikeri are reminiscent of the house clusters identified at large Late Neolithic sites. The fortifications, the burials within the settlements, as well as the large longhouses and the thick vertical stratigraphy recovered at the very Early Copper Age settlement of VésztĘ-Bikeri also bear similarities to Late Neolithic sites. Our analyses at the regional level also revealed significant continuity between the two periods. Although some previously unoccupied areas became inhabited during the Early Copper Age, the overall distribution of the sites is nearly identical in both periods: the Körös Valley was densely populated, while the Maros Fan continued to be avoided for settlement. Furthermore, the more specific locations of Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age settlements remained very similar within the Körös Valley. The same banks of each paleochannel that were occupied in the Late Neolithic also were inhabited in the Early Copper Age. By the Tiszapolgár period, the number of sites increased significantly at those locations, and their sizes decreased remarkably. Each cluster that had been established in the Late Neolithic continued into the Early Copper Age. New site clusters that were founded in the Tiszapolgár period were established in areas that previously had been uninhabited. Finally, the overall abundance of artifacts at Early Copper Age sites, the extensive labor investments in the constructions, as well as the long stratigraphic sequence at sites such as VésztĘ-Bikeri are indicative of long-term, multi-generational habitations

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of at least some Early Copper Age settlements, at least at the beginning of the period. This indicates a continuation of several cultural practices that began during the Late Neolithic, but at a different scale, with relatively smaller sites that were relocated relatively more frequently. The few analyzed faunal assemblages from Early Copper Age settlements from different part of the Körös region do not reflect a general trend towards subsistence strategies heavily reliant upon domestic cattle husbandry. Rather, the available faunal data indicate a continuation of trends established in the Late Neolithic, with a large amount of regional variation in assemblages (Parkinson et al. 2004). To understand the transition from the Neolithic to the Copper Age in the Körös region, we have come to favor models that emphasize local processes over intrusive or external processes. In the absence of good evidence suggesting significant changes in the natural environment or the emigration of new social groups into the region, we are encouraged to see this transition as a local reaction to local trends. Those trends include increasing nucleation, with more people packed onto fewer sites during the Late Neolithic. This resulted in higher population densities in some parts of the region, with large areas remaining completely uninhabited. In the absence of social mechanisms necessary for dealing with conflicts that would have arisen over competition for resources including wood and cultivable land, we postulate the inhabitants of Late Neolithic settlements chose to ‘vote with their feet’ and establish new settlements in previously unoccupied regions. Those new settlements, we suggest, were created by social groups that previously had lived together on Late Neolithic settlements. This dispersal occurred sometime around 4,600 BC and resulted in the establishment of new settlements such as VésztĘ-Bikeri. With the breakdown of the Late Neolithic settlement system, which was focused around tells and other ‘supersites,’ we infer a reorganization of trade contacts between individual settlements in the Early Copper Age, ultimately encouraging more interaction between individual sites (and individual settlement clusters) over greater distances. This explains the increased homogeneity in Tiszapolgár settlement organization and material culture assemblages. We argue that the economy of the Early Copper Age communities, based on rivers and their immediate vicinity, adapted to the heterogeneous local-level environmental opportunities and constraints of the study area

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rather than any overall, general economic trends. A dispersed settlement pattern made up of small scale communities, which may have started to come into being as early as in the Late Neolithic and became a clear tendency by the Early Copper Age, could have more successful economically in this ‘patchy’ landscape than the nucleated organization of populous communities. The multi-scalar approach applied in this study has added new perspectives to the issue of the transition between Neolithic and Early Copper Age on the Great Hungarian Plain and the results suggest that, in contrast to earlier assumptions, the transition between the Late Neolithic and the Early Copper Age on the Great Hungarian Plain was rather a series of gradual socioeconomic transformations than an abrupt, immediate change.

Works Cited Bailey, D. W. 1996. Balkan Prehistory. Routledge: London/New York. Bánffy, E. 1994. Transdanubia and Eastern Hungary in the Early Copper Age. — A Dunántúl és Kelet-Magyarország a kora rézkorban. A Jósa András Múzeum Évkönyve 36: 291-296. Bogaard, A. 2004. Neolithic Farming in Central Europe. An archaeobotanical study of crop husbandry practices. Routledge: London/New York. Bognár-Kutzián, I. 1963. The Copper Age Cemetery of TiszapolgárBasatanya. Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó. —. 1974. The Early Copper Age Tiszapolgár Culture in the Carpathian Basin. Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó. Bökönyi, S. 1986. Environmental and Cultural Effects on the Faunal Assemblages of Four Large Fourth Millennium B.C. Sites. A Béri Balogh Ádám Múzeum Évkönyve 13: 69–88. Dóka, K. 1997. A Körös és Berettyó vízrendszer szabályozása a 18-19. században. Közlemények Békés megye és környéke történetébĘl 7. Gyula: Békés Megyei Levéltár. Draúovean, F. 1995. Locuirile Neolitice de la Hodoni. Die neolitischen Siedlung von Hodoni. Banatica 13: 53-138. Ecsedy, I. 1981. A keletmagyarországi rézkor fejlĘdésének fontosabb tényezĘi. — On the factors of the Copper Age development in Eastern Hungary. Janus Pannonius Múzeum Évkönyve 26:73–95.

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Hoekman-Sites, H., T. Parsons and S. Duwe, 2006. Elemental Interaction: Stylistic, Compositional and Residue Analysis of Copper Age Ceramics on the Great Hungarian Plain. SAS Bulletin 29(4): 12-13. Horváth, F. 1983. A kĘkortól a vaskor kezdetéig. A fejlĘdés megtorpanása. In: Gy. Kristó (ed.) Szeged története, pp. 62-66. Szeged: Somogyi Könyvtár. —. 1985. A késĘ neolitikum kutatása Csongrád megyében. Múzeumi kutatások Csongrád megyében, pp. 5-10. Szeged: Móra Ferenc Múzeum. —. 1987. HódmezĘvásárhely-Gorzsa: A Settlement of the Tisza culture. In L. Tálás and P. Raczky (eds.), The Late Neolithic in the Tisza region, pp. 31-46. Budapest-Szolnok: Kossuth Press. —. 1988. Late Neolithic Ditches, Fortifications and Tells in the Hungarian Tisza-Region. In N. Tasiü and J. Petroviü (eds.), Gomolava– Chronologie und Stratigraphie der vorgeschichtlichen und antiken Kulturen der Donauniederung und Südosteuropas. Internationales Symposium, Ruma 1986. Band 1, pp. 145-149, Novi Sad. —. 1989. A Tisza-vidék újkĘkori településrendszerének és háztípusainak áttekintése. — Übersicht über das Siedlungssystem und die Haustypen der Theissgegend im Neolithikum. Móra Ferenc Múzeum Évkönyve 198: 15–40. —. 2005. Gorzsa. ElĘzetes eredmények az újkĘkori tell 1978 és 1996 közötti feltárásából. — Gorzsa. Preliminary results of the excavation of the Neolithic tell between 1978-1996. In L. Bende and G. LĘrinczy (eds.), Hétköznapok Vénuszai, pp. 51-83. HódmezĘvásárhely: Tornyai János Múzeum. Iercoúan, N. 2002. Cultura Tiszapolgár în Vestul României. Cluj Napoca: Muzeul JudeĠean Satu Mare. Ignat, D. 1998. Grupul cultural neolitic Suplacu de Barcău. Bibliotheca Historica et Archaeologica Banatica 14. Jankovich, D., J. Makkay and B. Miklós SzĘke, 1989. Magyarország Régészeti Topográfiája 8. Békés Megye Régészeti Topográfiája: A szarvasi járás (IV/2). Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó. Jankovich, D., P. Medgyesi, E. Nikolin, I. Szatmári and I. Torma, 1998. Magyarország Régészeti Topográfiája 10. Békés Megye Régészeti Topográfiája: Békés és Békéscsaba környéke (IV/3). Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó. Kalicz, N. 1988. Kultúraváltozások a korai és középsĘ rézkorban a Kárpát–medencében. — Culture Changes in the Carpathian Basin during the Late Neolithic and Copper Age. Archaeologiai ÉrtesítĘ 114115: 3-15.

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Kalicz, N. and P. Raczky, 1986. Ásatások Berettyóújfalu-Herpály neolitikus és bronzkori telltelepülésén 1977-1982 között. I. ÚjkĘkor (Neolitikum). A Bihari Múzeum Évkönyve 4-5: 63-127. —. 1987a. Berettyóújfalu-Herpály: A Settlement of the Herpály culture. In L. Tálás and P. Raczky (eds.) The Late Neolithic in the Tisza region, pp. 105-125. Budapest-Szolnok: Kossuth Press. —. 1987b. The Late Neolithic of the Tisza Region: A Survey of Recent Archaeological Research. In L. Tálás and P. Raczky (eds.) The Late Neolithic in the Tisza region, pp. 11-30. Budapest-Szolnok: Kossuth Press. Korek, J. 1972. A Tiszai kultúra. Unpublished manuscript, Budapest. —. 1987. Szegvár-TĦzköves: A Settlement of the Tisza culture. In L. Tálás and P. Raczky (eds.), The Late Neolithic in the Tisza region, pp. 47-50. Budapest-Szolnok: Kossuth Press. —. 1989. Die Theiß-Kultur in der mittleren und nördlichen Theißgegend. Inventaria Praehistorica Hungarica 3. Budapest: Magyar Nemzeti Múzeum. Kosse, K. 1979. Settlement Ecology of the Körös and Linear Pottery Cultures in Hungary. BAR International Series 64. Oxford: Archaeopress. Magyari, E., B. Davis, P. Sümegi and Gy. SzöĘr, 2001. Past climate variability in the Carpathian Basin based on pollen- and molluscderived palaeoclimate reconstructions: 0-25,000 cal. yr. BP. Paper presented at PEPIII Conference, Past Climate Variability through Europe and Africa, Aix-en-Provence. Makkay, J. 1982. A magyarországi neolitikum kutatásának új eredményei. Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó. Mallory, J. P. 1989. In Search of the Indo-Europeans. London: Thames & Hudson. Mike, K. 1991. Magyarország Ęsvízrajza és felszíni vizeinek története. Budapest: Aqua Kiadó. Nádor, A., E. Thamó-Bozsó, Á. Magyari and E. Babinszki, 2007. Fluvial responses to tectonics and climate change during the Late Weichselian in the eastern part of the Pannonian Basin (Hungary). Sedimentary Geology 202: 174-192. Nicodemus, A. 2003. Animal Economy and Social Change during the Neolithic-Copper Age Transition on the Great Hungarian Plain. Unpublished Masters Paper, Florida State University, Department of Anthropology, Tallahassee. Papp, A. 1956. A Nagy- és Kis-Sárrét vidékének régi vízrajza. Acta Universitas Debreciensis 1-7.

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CHAPTER FIVE SOCIAL AND SETTLEMENT DYNAMICS IN THE HUNGARIAN LATE NEOLITHIC AND EARLY COPPER AGE – A REGIONAL INQUIRY RODERICK B. SALISBURY AND MARGARET R. MORRIS

Introduction In this paper we reimagine regional traditions on the Great Hungarian Plain during the transition from the Late Neolithic to the Early Copper Age (c. 4500-4000 BC). Archaeologists have enhanced their approaches to regional analyses during the first decade of the twenty-first century, partially as a result of widening efforts to expand archaeological methods to incorporate constantly changing technological advances, and partly as a result of increasingly diverse approaches to interpretation. This is especially true at the local scale, but regional archaeology is also advancing. In addition, there are increased connections between local scale and regional approaches, through landscape history, palaeo-environmental studies, large-scale archaeological surveys, historical ecology and heritage management efforts (Ashmore and Knapp 1999; Bradley 2000; Cherry et al. 1991; Crumley 1994; Muir 1999; Sümegi 2003). As mentioned in the introductory chapter to this volume, diversity of conceptual models is a positive development of the processual vs. post-processual debate within the Anglo-American tradition. Combining these conceptual models allows for a reimagining of what regional archaeology could, and even should, be all about. Hungary has a very rich and diverse archaeological record, illuminated by over a century of work by Hungarian archaeologists (e.g. Tompa 1929;

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Bognár-Kutzián 1948, 1963; Banner et al. 1959; Banner and Bona 1974; Kalicz and Makkay 1977; Tálás and Raczky 1987; Bánffy and BognárKutzián 2007) and multi-national projects (Childe 1929; Sherratt 1982, 1983; O’Shea 1996; Raczky and Meier-Arendt 2002; Parkinson 2002, 2006; Chapman et al. 2003; Parkinson et al. 2004; Poroszlai and Vicze 2005; Whittle 2007). During the 1980’s, large-scale regional surveys, compiled into volumes known as the Magyarország Régészeti Topográfiája (MRT; Hungarian Archaeological Topography), were conducted across much of the country in an effort to determine locations of all archaeological sites and create regional databases (for Békés County see Ecsedy et al. 1982; Jankovich et al. 1989, 1998). As the information was compiled, interesting patterns emerged, many of these occurring at the Late Neolithic/Early Copper Age transition. This transition is marked by a shift in the community organization of small-scale societies, reflected through differing settlement, exchange and mortuary patterns. During the Late Neolithic, communities were aggregated and formed settlement clusters, often around larger multigenerational sites, including tells. This pattern intensified over several successive generations, culminating in three discrete cultural groups, the Tisza, Herpály, and CsĘszhalom. During the beginning of the Early Copper Age, the pattern of nucleated settlements changed. The largest settlements, especially the tells, were largely abandoned and the population dispersed across the Plain, resulting in a diffuse pattern of small farmsteads. This change in regional settlement patterns was accompanied by an apparent change in cultural configuration, as these groups appear to have merged to form one group known as the Tiszapolgár. The relatively uniformity of the Tiszapolgár is based on more stylistic homogeneity in ceramic decoration and less variability in settlement size. This is not to say that there is only one settlement type during the Copper Age, or that the types we know of are strikingly different from the settlement types of the Late Neolithic. As will be discussed, there is considerable overlap in settlement type, location and some site structures across the region, with marked changes being in the preferred settlement type, duration of occupation, and to some degree settlement organization.

Regional studies in Hungary Along with the changes in the location and organization of settlements, there was a reorganization of social, religious, economic and, probably,

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political structures. Each of these social changes – social, religious, economic and political – is appropriate for analysis at both the traditional conceptualization of “regional” level, and at other levels as well. For certain traits, especially settlement location, some characteristics of settlement structure, and site abandonment, continuity in regional social traditions are apparent from the Late Neolithic to the Early Copper Age. In the areas of mortuary tradition, exchange patterns and intra-site spatial organization, significant transformations are evident. This paper seeks to expand the discussion of the Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age by attempting to merge data representing different scales and resolutions obtained in conjunction with the Körös Regional Archaeological Project (KRAP) and doctoral dissertation research by one of the authors.

Figure 5-1. Map of Hungary, showing research area in the Körös Valley.

Prior to continuing, it is important to clarify the use of scale and resolution in the context of our research. Scale refers to the actual area being analyzed and, in archaeology, is commonly assigned names such as macro-regional, regional, local, and micro-regional. More specifically, scale refers to the spatial size of the area being researched. In this paper, three scales are discussed. The macro-region is the Hungaarian Great Plain, which contains a general culture-history and is geographically bounded. Regional refers to the the Berettyó-Körös river basin which again contains a common culture-history, whilst micro-regions are including

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spatially neighboring sites defined by similar environmental features. Finally, local refers to site-level analysis. As noted by in the introductory chapter, the various scales at which regional analysis can be conducted can result in differing interpretations. Each scale provides unique interpretive resolutions. Commonly in archaeology ‘scale’ and ‘resolution’ are used interchangeably, which can lead to confusion. Resolution refers to the interpretation that can be derived at different scales. Large-scale resolution provides the researcher with information about trends over large areas of space. Usually, to define such trends, detailed information is sacrificed in order to construct a reasonable scenario that holds true for the majority of the area being investigated. Conversely, small-scale resolution focuses specifically on understanding phenomena at smaller scales, including the site and local scales. In these cases, detailed information is included in interpretation in order to extract specific human behavior or events in spatially isolated or constrained contexts (for example, different processing areas within a house). In the context of the Late Neolithic/Early Copper Age transition on the Great Hungarian Plain, scale has played a very important role in the current interpretations of the spatial pattering on the Plain. The changes in the location and organization of settlements indicate a reorganization of social, religious, economic, and most likely political structures. Each of these changes is appropriate for analysis at both the traditional ‘regional’ level as well as other spatial scales, including site-level. On the Plain, certain arenas of life indicate continuity in social traditions between the Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age. This is evident in characteristics associated with settlement structure and site abandonment practices. Other areas, such as mortuary practices and intra-site (site-level) organization indicate significant transformations. By linking differing spatial scales, these consistencies and differences are examined with an eye to understanding the Tiszapolgár culture at the regional level.

Understanding change - linking communities As mentioned previously, the detailed changes in social, political, and economic structures between the Late Neolithic and Early Copper Age indicate a shift in social organization. These changes also indicate that there was interaction occurring across the Plain, and that the nature of interactions also changed. As we will see, both economy and settlement

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traditions are homogeneous enough to suggest either political centralization or communal gatherings and interaction. There is no concrete evidence for political centralization, even within the nucleated villages of the Late Neolithic. Therefore, we can assume that there were places in the landscape, either constructed or not, that served to draw people together; places where interactions occurred, and where members of small dispersed farmsteads were informed about deaths, births and the construction of new homes and settlements. Further, it is reasonable to assume that these locations may have served as established locales for economic transactions and trade. Assessment of the potential places where the exchange of social ideas and technology would have occurred is missing from archaeological interpretation. The possible locations discussed here include cemeteries and enclosures, although there may have been others. The focus in this discussion will be primarily on settlement patterns, although mortuary and exchange practices also play a role. We will begin by examining the distribution and variety of Tiszapolgár sites within Békés County, Hungary (Figure 5-1). This follows from work conducted at the Körös Regional Archaeological Project in eastern Hungary, in which the authors participated (Gyucha et al. 2006; Parkinson et al. 2004), a regional research project of survey and excavation that aims to explore the social and economic structure of the Early Copper Age in the BerettyóKörös. Palaeohydrology used in the site distribution analysis come from Gyucha and Duffy (2008). This will be followed by a discussion of general structure of the two sites most intensively examined by the Körös Regional Archaeological Project, VésztĘ-Bikeri and Körösladány-Bikeri. This includes analysis of major features and activity areas, as well as house construction and distribution. These results will then be compared to the results of initial analysis of geochemical surveys of two other Tiszapolgár settlements. Following these observations, we expand our discussion of the need for communal gathering places during the Early Copper Age. The detailed changes in social, political and economic structures that occurred with the abandonment of tell settlement system suggest that people needed new places to focus the sense of community on the micro-regional level. That is, places in the landscape that served to draw people together, places where interactions occurred to disperse social information and knowledge to members of small farmsteads. It is possible that some of the sites typically thought of as farmsteads were in fact structured to provide this necessary function. Specifically, we will discuss the intra-site patterning at

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Körösladány-Bikeri, and suggest that the lack of houses in the centre of the site may indicate use as a communal centre. As this paper progresses, the ways that multi-scale analysis can yield multi-resolution interpretations and provide a means of augmenting current thinking should become apparent.

Regional and micro-regional patterns during the transition The Late Neolithic to Early Copper Age transition is defined by both large and small-scale changes, and represents a period of social and structural change on the Great Hungarian Plain. This collection of changes have been elaborated at length by Parkinson and Gyucha (Gyucha et al. 2006; Parkinson 2002, 2006; Parkinson et al. 2004), and so only a general summary is given here (refer to Table 5-1; also Gyucha et al. this volume). Settlement patterns, ceramic decoration, mortuary practices and exchange networks change noticeably at both the local and regional scale during the transition from the Neolithic to the Copper Age. Site nucleation and settlement hierarchy developed during the early 5th millennium BC (Chapman 1990; Kalicz and Raczky 1987a), although clear evidence for political hierarchy is largely lacking. In eastern Hungary, the Tisza-Herpály-CsĘszhalom complex extended from the Tisza floodplain east to the foothills of Transylvania and from the Banat northward to the Upper Tisza valley. These three archaeological culture groups are well defined in terms of both geographical location and ceramic decorative elements, although Kalicz and Raczky (1987a: 14) note that in the earliest phase of the Late Neolithic there was one uniform Tisza group, covering nearly the entire Tisza valley, that later fragmented into the three separate entities. The Tisza group is located in the southern and central Tisza Basin, while the Herpály and CsĘszhalom groups occupied much smaller regions – the Herpály in the eastern Berettyó and Sebes-Körös valleys, and the CsĘszhalom to the north in the eastern Upper Tisza and Bodrog valleys. The valley of the Triple Körös formed a sort of frontier between the Tisza and their neighbors, although the social organization of these three groups appears quite similar and the boundary between the Tisza and Herpály groups seems quite porous. During the Hungarian Early Copper Age (c. 4500-4000 BC), settlement patterns on the Alfold shifted from the clustered settlements of these three distinct groups to smaller Tiszapolgár settlements dispersed across the landscape (Parkinson et al. 2004: Sherratt 1982, 1983). The Tiszapolgár group, much more homogeneous

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TABLE 5-1. LATE NEOLITHIC/EARLY COPPER AGE TRANSITION* TRANSFORMATION

LATE NEOLITHIC

EARLY COPPER AGE

RECONFIGURATION OF CULTURAL GROUPS

THREE DISTINCT CULTURAL GROUPS (TISZA, HERPÁLY AND CSėSZHALOM)

ONE HOMOGENEOUS

CERAMIC ELEMENTS

THREE DIFFERENT CERAMIC STYLE ZONES CORRESPONDING WITH TISZA, HERPÁLY AND CSėSZHALOM CULTURAL ZONES

RELATIVELY UNIFORM TISZAPOLGÁR

POPULATION CLUSTERED IN CULTURAL ZONES WITH BUFFER AREAS

POPULATION DISPERSED WITH DISAPPEARANCE OF CULTURAL ZONES

LARGE CLUSTERED

SMALL, DISPERSED FARMSTEADS;

SETTLEMENT PATTERNS

SITE STRUCTURE

SETTLEMENTS AND TELLS; SOME SMALL HORIZONTAL SETTLEMENTS

HOUSE STRUCTURE

LARGE MULTI-ROOM HOUSES WITH FUNCTIONAL DIVISION OF SPACE; INTERNAL TASK AREAS

MORTUARY PRACTICES

DEAD BURIED WITHIN SETTLEMENTS; OCCASIONALLY UNDERNEATH HOUSE FLOORS

EXCHANGE PRACTICES

OBSIDIAN, FLINTS AND SPONDYLUS SHELL MOVE BOTH NORTH AND SOUTH

CULTURAL GROUP (TISZAPOLGÁR)

CERAMICS REPLACE PREVIOUS CULTURALLY SPECIFIC STYLES

OCCASIONAL OCCUPATION OF PREEXISTING TELLS

SMALL, ONE ROOM DWELLINGS WITH NO INTERNAL DIVISION OF SPACE; OUTDOOR TASK AREAS

ESTABLISHMENT OF CEMETERIES SEPARATE FROM SETTLEMENTS; SOME BURIALS WITHIN SETTLEMENTS COPPER ORE AND FLINTS MOVING EAST TO WEST

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*adapted from Parkinson 2002: 392

than its predecessors in terms of both ceramic types and decoration and in settlement size, covered the entire Alföld, occupying the same general region as the Tisza-Herpály-CsĘszhalom complex, north from the Banat and east from the Tisza River, with some expansion into the upland areas of Transylvania and southern Slovakia (Parkinson 2006). Painting of pottery ceased, and Tiszapolgár pots are characterized primarily by polished surfaces and the addition of lugs and knobs, as defined by Bognár-Kutzián (1963). Kalicz and Raczky (1987a: 15-16) identify three basic settlement types during the Hungarian Late Neolithic; tells, tell-like mounds, and singlelayer horizontal settlements. By this time there were also tells and large tell-like settlements in the Balkans, and a similar observation on settlement types was made for this area by Chapman (1981: 45). He lists tells, large unenclosed horizontal sites, and the “rare settlement type” called “obrovci”, which are small to moderate sized horizontal sites enclosed by ditches. Spatial organization at the large Late Neolithic sites is patterned, as seen at the Tisza site of HódmezĘvásárhely-Gorzsa (Horváth 1987) and the Herpály site of Berettyóújfalu-Herpály (Kalicz and Raczky 1984). Evidence for planned layout of houses and open spaces implies a culturally accepted way that a village is “supposed” to be organized, and possibly some centralized political organization. All of these settlements contain residential/production areas, central/communal areas, and burials within the settlement space. Houses were in the form of fairly large, rectangular, multi-room wattle and daub structures that would hold more than one individual or nuclear family. Most Late Neolithic houses within a given site are roughly the same size and shape, although some buildings had two floors (Horváth 1987, 1989; Kalicz and Raczky 1984; Tringham and Kristiü 1990a). Typically, each room has an oven or hearth, and one room would be reserved for storage and possibly ritual activity (Kalicz and Raczky 1987a: 22; Tringham and Kristiü 1990a). As an example of a typical Tisza settlement, Horváth (1987) described the site of HódmezĘvásárhely-Gorzsa in the Tisza-Maros triangle, occupied from 4900-4400 BC. The settlement had six occupations in the Neolithic sequence, the final one dating to the Late Neolithic-Copper Age transition. A wattle and daub fence surrounded the village, and the latest occupation had a 2.5 – 3 m deep ditch. A representative house measures approximately 13 x 20 m with six rooms and plastered floors. One room

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was reserved for grain storage and religious practices based on the presence of storage vessels and an altar or offering table. Each of the remaining rooms had a domed oven, and some contained looms. Tiszapolgár settlements were smaller and composed of small, single room dwellings without an interior hearth or oven, without obvious internal storage containers, and without any defined internal religious/ritual location (Bognár-Kutzián 1972; Parkinson 2002; Parkinson et al. 2004). Changes in house structure and size would have necessitated changes in the organization of task areas. Space would have been limited by the smaller size of Early Copper Age houses, and activities normally assigned to certain interior spaces during the Late Neolithic would have to be reconfigured, discontinued, or moved outside. The restructuring of houses and settlement space within the Early Copper Age allows the opportunity to explore both transformation and enduring traditions. It is important to note here that small, “flat” Late Neolithic sites are known through the MRT surveys in eastern Hungary, but have not been excavated. Therefore, comparisons of Early Copper Age settlements with those from the Late Neolithic rely on data from tells and tell-like settlements. In addition, exchange and mortuary patterns changed. Mortuary patterns form a second variable, with the appearance of regular interments in cemeteries occurring throughout Europe during the 5th millennium BC. During the Late Neolithic, burials are known from most of the larger sites, found in unoccupied portions of the settlement area. Examples of this phenomenon in our region include BerettyóújfaluHerpály (Kalicz and Raczky 1987b) and VésztĘ-Mágor (HegedĦs and Makkay 1987). However, this was a tendency, not a hard and fast rule. Burials, especially of babies, are found under house floors as well, a trend that continues into at the least the earliest Copper Age, as seen at the site of VésztĘ-Bikeri (Parkinson et al. 2004). The first evidence for extensive use of formal, external cemeteries on the Hungarian Plain comes from the Early Copper Age, the best known of which is Tiszapolgár-Basatanya (Bognár-Kutzián 1963; Skomal 1980; Deverinski 1997). It is important to note that the placement of these formal cemeteries followed the Neolithic preference for locations on higher, better-drained land along major waterways (Bognár-Kutzián 1972:151; Bailey 2000:193-209; Sherratt 1983). The construction of these cemeteries marks an important change in social structure, a move from burials within sites to formal, external cemeteries (Bognár-Kutzián 1972: 151, 1963). Another decided difference is that contracted burials were most common during the late Neolithic, while at Tiszapolgár-Basatanya extended burials are most common (ibid.).

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Gender differentiation is marked. Females are very frequently buried on their left side, and males lying on their right side. A few cremations are known, but most Tiszapolgár burials contain skeletons. There are very few cenotaphs (burials without bodies; Bognár-Kutzián 1972: 151). Evidence indicates that graves were laid out in rows and marked, and graves did not cut into one another (Bognár-Kutzián 1963:354). All this evidence indicates that they had significance other than just depositories for dead bodies. More importantly, this suggests that there was an accepted and strictly observed burial practice in place followed by members of multiple small farmsteads (Deverinski 1997). Interestingly, separate and external cemeteries have not been found within the Berettyó-Körös micro-region in Békés County. Seventeen adults dating to the Tiszapolgár period have been found in burials during excavations at VésztĘ-Mágor (HegedĦs and Makkay 1987), and one found at VésztĘ-Bikeri (Parkinson et al. 2004). In the other temporal direction, Chapman (1981) identified at least one external cemetery dating to the 6th millennium BC at the Vinþa site of Botoš, and Bailey (2000: 197) mentions another cemetery close to and associated with, but not within, the tell at Ovcharovo. Exchange networks during the Late Neolithic followed those of the Middle Neolithic (Biró 2001), focusing primarily on flint, obsidian and Spondylus shell, and moving roughly north-south (Biró 1998). Hungarian obsidian from Bükk Mountains is found in southern Poland, and the presence of western Carpathian and Balkan lithics in Central Europe indicates long distance exchange networks during the early and middle Neolithic (Bogucki 1988: 124). Banat flint is typical on Tisza sites (Biró 1998: 345), and Herpály sites often contain Volhynian flint from Romania (ibid. 85). Lithics at the small Late Neolithic settlement of Szeghalom108, for example, include obsidian, Volhynian flint, and limnoquartzite. Lithic raw materials roughly correspond with geographic location, with long-distance exchanges moving primarily north and south. During the Early Copper Age, long-range exchange networks shifted to an east to west orientation as copper ore and gold gained in importance. Accompanying this change was a concomitant shift in the lithic sources used, with flint from the eastern Carpathians increasing in importance, although those from Poland and the mountains of what is now Slovakia continue to move across the plain (Biró 1998; Sherratt 1983). Use of Tokaj obsidian and Volhynian flint increases, and banded flints from southern Poland find their way onto the plain. Gold from the Caucasus is another example of the restructuring of trade networks away from a north-south

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focus on areas for Spondylus shell and obsidian to an east-west emphasis on the Carpathians as a source of raw materials (Biró 1998; Sherratt 1983). We do not fully understand the mechanisms by which these materials made their way across the plain. That is, we often know where they come from, but not how or where the exchanges took place, or who was involved. It is possible that people from each individual Tiszapolgár settlement traveled to mountainous regions in order to collect lithic and raw materials. While this does not appear to be a very efficient manner of attaining resources, we cannot rule out long-distance specialists. Another option would be for materials to trickle downstream, almost literally in the case of the Triple-Körös, from the eastern mountains to the Tisza River. Alternatively, the members of a settlement cluster could host traveling traders. In this case, a community center might be useful as a point of exchange and distribution of commodities; we may envision an informal market. Establishment of regional exchange networks for raw materials is one of the variables explored by Tringham and Kristiü at Selevac during their examination of the Late Neolithic shift to nucleation and the subsequent decline of large Late Neolithic sites during the late 5th and early 4th millennia BC (Tringham and Kristiü 1990b: 6-7). Chapman (1990) has suggested that tells may have served as central places, where raw materials were collected and redistributed. There is no evidence for settlements that served this function for the Tiszapolgár, although we suggest that some sites, perhaps tells or communal enclosures, could have played this role. Reoccupation of tells by the Tiszapolgár could indicate that the need for such places continued, but it also could indicate the need for well-drained habitation areas, or sporadic efforts at reconnecting to ancestral territory. Some other site type, or possibly the somewhat larger settlements in the Körös Valley, could be the places we are looking for. Sahlins (1972) mentions exchange as a way of mitigating inter-group hostility, and it is likely that exchange, as with burial practices, provided a forum for commonality amongst the Tiszapolgár. Unfortunately, a comparative database for Early Copper Age sites in Romania is not currently available, but comparison of data from Romanian side of the plain could show whether communities closer to the source had greater access to copper. Arguably, changes to this many facets of life can be described as dramatic. However, we contend that the apparent dramatic nature of these changes is the result of snapshot reconstructions. Large-scale reconstruction has been interpreted using isolated temporal “snapshots” for the Middle

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Neolithic, the Late Neolithic, the Early Copper Age, and on. In these snapshots, time becomes static, with bursts of change, as exemplified in the marked change in the regional distribution of settlements. While this type of snapshot reconstruction is difficult to avoid, especially when research focuses on isolated aspects of the archaeological record such as broad patterns of ceramic decoration, it is important to recognize the problems that result from conducting research at a single scale. What appears dramatic to us may be due to the nature of previous research and our limited access to the past. Further, our perception of dramatic may in fact misrepresent the true impact of these changes on Neolithic farmers. In order to expand the discourse that occasionally creates a sense of disconnect between these two periods, one of the goals of this research is to understand how the people of these two periods remain connected. We will begin with a discussion of patterns at the micro-regional level of the Berettyó-Körös basin within Békés County.

Figure 5-2. Distribution of Late Neolithic Tisza sites in Békés County, Hungary. (Palaeohydrology used by permission of Gyucha and Duffy)

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Micro-regional settlement patterns Settlement locations favored by Neolithic and Copper Age groups on the Great Hungarian Plain were generally along minor waterways, meanders and backswamps. Especially favored locations were natural levees formed during the Pleistocene. In the Körös-Berettyó region these places were the highest points, and were typically covered with Aeolian loess (Sherratt 1982; Sümegi 2003). Distribution maps of settlements layered with palaeohydrology (Gyucha and Duffy 2008) demonstrate this phenomenon. Site clustering is most apparent during the Late Neolithic, where sites not only fall within the three cultural zones, but also form smaller clusters within the larger zones (Parkinson 2002: 410-412, 2006). Figure 5-2 depicts the 62 sites from Békés County that contain Tisza components. As the distribution shows, smaller sites cluster near tells or supersites, suggesting that these played an important role in the interactions of the larger community. Horizontal Tisza sites vary in size from 60x60m to 800x200m, based in information from the MRTs. Figure 5-3 depicts the distribution of sites with Tiszapolgár occupations in Békés County, where single component Tiszapolgár sites range from 30x30m to 600x150m. It is immediately apparent that the distribution of settlements is more dispersed, lacking the tight clustering even in those areas where tells were temporarily reoccupied. An interesting exception is the cluster in the western corner of Békés County near Szarvas. While the largest Tiszapolgár sites are not as large as the largest Tisza sites, there remains a wide range of total area encompassed by single component settlements. In addition, there are instances of Tiszapolgár occupations on tells, including Békés-Povád, Szarvas-Kovácshalom, Szeghalom- Kovácshalom and VésztĘ-Mágor. In these cases, occupational hiatus is typically observed in the form of a humus layer between the Late Neolithic and Copper Age components. HegedĦs and Makkay (1987), for example, describe a 20-25 cm thick humus zone between the Tisza and Tiszapolgár layers at VésztĘMágor. The point of this discussion is that while the overall number of settlements increased, and the overall settlement size decreased, continuity in the settlement pattern and variability in settlement size remains. From this discussion, it is evident that settlement types in the Körös micro-region remained largely the same, although settlements were much more widely dispersed and occupations themselves appear to be of shorter duration. The communal nature of Tiszapolgár society is evident in

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formalized burial practices and regional exchange patterns. In the following section we explore the construction of settlements themselves. Here we again see some intimation that people worked together, and that participation in a larger community was essential to the functioning of these dispersed farmsteads.

Figure 5-3. Distribution of Early Copper Age Tiszapolgár sites in Békés County, Hungary. (Palaeohydrology used by permission of Gyucha and Duffy 2008)

Spatial analysis at VésztĘ-Bikeri and Körösladány-Bikeri Both VésztĘ-Bikeri and Körösladány-Bikeri are located in the southeastern part of the Great Hungarian Plain approximately one kilometer south of the Late Neolithic tell site of VésztĘ-Mágor, near the modern town of VésztĘ in Békés County, Hungary. Originally identified during the Hungarian MRT surveys (Ecsedy et al .1982), these two sites were chosen for further investigation by KRAP project’s directors, William Parkinson and Attila Gyucha (Parkinson et al. 2004). The sites are located near each other on small, elevated pieces of land separated by a modern canal that follows a palaeochannel, with VésztĘ-Bikeri on the east side of

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the canal and on slightly higher ground than its neighbor to the west. Despite their proximity to one another, the sites are different in substantial ways. VésztĘ-Bikeri is a single component Early Copper Age site that contains several centrally located houses surrounded by a ditch and palisade system. Körösládany-14 has a similar ditch and palisade system, but lacks the centrally located houses present at VésztĘ-Bikeri. Additionally, Körösládany-14 is multi-component, with features and artifacts from at least the Early Copper Age, Late Bronze Age, and Late Iron Age. Summaries of excavations and geophysical examinations at the sites can be found in Parkinson (2002, 2006; Parkinson et al. 2004; Sarris et al. 2004; Yerkes et al. 2007), while detailed discussion of the spatial analysis conducted at these two sites can be found in Morris and Salisbury (forthcoming). Interpretations of both of these sites are based upon suite of data collection and analytical methods, ranging from geochemistry and magnetic surveys (Sarris et al. 2004; Yerkes et al. 2007) to excavation. The magnetometry survey was very successful at both sites, identifying not only the outer palisade and trench systems, but shedding light on potential structures and site anomalies, as depicted in Figure 4. Phosphate analyses, which test for the presence of the human enrichment of the phosphate element (Crowther 1997; Holliday and Gartner 2007), were also successful, but offer a less clear-cut interpretation. The phosphate signatures at VésztĘ-Bikeri appear to be “contained” by the ditch/palisade system and it is easy to see a pattern. The center of the site has lower levels of phosphate when compared to the peripheral areas near the ditch and palisade systems (Figure 5-5). Further, the identified midden area of the site contains higher levels of phosphate. Phosphate survey results at Körösladány-Bikeri are not quite as clear-cut. Although the centre of the site does appear to lack high levels of phosphate, the ditch/palisade system does not appear to “enclose” the site based on phosphate results. Part of this may be due to the multi-component nature of Körösladány-Bikeri, where later occupations at the site may not have been contained by the Early Copper Age ditch and palisade system resulting in a blurred phosphate signature.

VésztĘ-Bikeri VésztĘ-Bikeri is a single component Early Copper Age settlement. Surface collection provided evidence for house structures and artifact clusters (Parkinson 2006). The site covers an approximate area of 4310 square meters, and over three years of excavation, approximately 425 sq

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meters, or 1% of the site was excavated, and 852 kg (1,874 lbs) of artifacts recovered. Magnetometry results from the site indicate that at least two and perhaps three ditches surround the site (Figure 5-4). The narrow excavation trenches employed to investigate these revealed only an ephemeral presence, and a larger trench did not clearly identify a middle ditch. Several features distinguish this site from neighboring KörösladányBikeri. Most important of these are the structures within the centre of the site, the high density of artifacts found within and around those structures, and the fact that most of the structures were burned prior to abandonment. A feature of superimposed plastered hearths is likely related to changes in the organization of space and establishment of new ask areas associated with changes in house size. A similar feature has been identified at Crna Bara (Bognár-Kutzián 1972:167). Parkinson and colleagues (2004:64) have interpreted the feature as VéstĘ-20 as a well or cistern that was partly filled in and then used as a kiln. One adult Tiszapolgár burial was found, above a posthole near the palisade, suggesting that the settlement was reused at least once for post-abandonment burial. Also of interest are artifact types concentrated in different houses and associated with specific activities, for example loom weights and spindle whorls found in one of the houses.

Figure 5-4. Results of magnetometry and location of excavation blocks for VésztĘBikeri and Körösladány-Bikeri.

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Figure 5-5. Results of phosphate survey for VésztĘ-Bikeri and Körösladány-Bikeri.

Two complete longhouses were uncovered in the centre of the site, set end to end and sharing one common wall. Another house was partially excavated just north of these. The excavation block surrounding the western-most house yielded 36% of the artifacts from the site. 89% of these were ceramics, and 9% were bone. Most of the artifacts appear to have been moved toward the corners of the structure. Additionally, these artifacts were located beneath burned daub, indicating that they were present and within the structure when it was burned (Morris and Salisbury forthcoming). Based upon the patterning of burned daub, it appears that the fire burned the hottest in the northwest corner (ibid.). The patterning of artifacts within this structure may be more indicative of behavior associated with the destruction of the house than with day-to-day activities. In addition, this house contained a cache of burned bone and antler points, representing the first time this artifact type has been recovered from an Early Copper Age context (Parkinson et al. 2004). As in the western longhouse, most of the artifacts in the house to the north were ceramics. The highest area of ceramic density is found in the southern portion of this house, where a large feature yielded several intact ceramic

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vessels. The site’s single infant burial was found along the northern edge of the northern wall trench. This burial contained small Early Copper Age cups and shell. The northern wall trench and daub wall are of the same type as the western longhouse, and both structures were burned, although it is not clear whether it was the same firing episode. Another excavation block was opened to investigate another longhouse to the east (Figure 5-4). Unlike the other two houses discussed here, the eastern one is not densely covered in artifacts. The wall trenches present share a common wall with the house to the west. Based on excavation, it appears that the eastern structure was built before the western structure, and that the house was dismantled and one wall trench re-used. The eastern structure may have been constructed of mud packed between planks, a technique known as terra pise, although Rapp says that a high volume of sand is required for the terra pise method to prevent “excessive shrinkage” (Rapp 2009: 270), and soils in the Körös region are primarily fine-grained, redeposited loess. The house shows no evidence of burning, and had been cleared of artifacts, suggesting that the space acquired a new function.

Körösladány-Bikeri As previously stated, unlike VésztĘ-Bikeri, Körösladány-Bikeri proved to be a multi-component site, although the current excavated area dates primarily to the Early Copper Age. Körösladány-Bikeri revealed several Early Copper Age pits, a well containing Tiszapolgár ceramics, four subadult burials of which at least two date to the Early Copper Age, and a ditch and palisade system with evidence of rebuilding episodes. The Tiszapolgár occupation of the site is bounded by the ditch and palisade system, mirroring the trench/palisade system at VésztĘ-Bikeri. Perhaps the most interesting attribute of this site is the lack of structures within the centre of the site, which was unexpected due to magnetometry results which seemed to indicate the presence of wall trenches at the centre (Figure 5-4), and it’s proximity to VésztĘ-Bikeri , in which many structures are located in the site centre. A 6m x 7m excavation block opened in the site centre in 2006 to pursue the results of the magnetometry survey revealed no houses or other structures, and no wall trenches or post holes were identified. Further, unlike neighboring VésztĘ-Bikeri, artifact density below the plowzone was extremely light and there was no evidence for fired houses. Several Early Copper Age

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bell-shaped pits were found southeast of this block, closer to the palisade. These pits contained cups, jars, daub, mammal and fish bone, fish scales, lithics, a piece of a large grinding stone, and possible pit lining. The total absence of structural features and material remains leads to the conclusion that the centre of the site either had very ephemeral houses with no wall trenches or deep postholes, unusual during the prehistory of the Hungarian Plain, or was deliberately left open for some type of functional or social use. Explaining the lack of the presence of house structures at the centre of Körösladány-Bikeri requires care. As most houses during the Neolithic and Copper Age in the Carpathian Basin are identified through the presence of wall trenches and postholes, or evidence of terra pise construction, we expect to see similar construction here. It is possible that we may not be seeing a lack of dwellings so much as a lack of typical construction of Early Copper Age houses. The centre of the site could have formed a residential context of more ephemeral house structures that did not require wall trenches and postholes. However, excavation did reveal potential wall trenches and remains of daub structures closer to the trench and palisade system. Since this is evidence of the ‘typical’ construction system for dwellings, we can tentatively conclude that the centre of Körösladány-Bikeri was ‘empty’. So the question becomes twofold; does the lack of houses in the centre of the site change the nature of the site, and can we justify proposing a non-residential use? In order to address these questions it is important to consider the nature of the material assemblage at Körösladány-Bikeri. The rest of the excavation blocks contained Early Copper Age and later features. Block 4, located to the southeast of the centre of the site, yielded two infant pot burials, several bell-shaped pits, several postholes and a possible house wall trench, all dating to the Early Copper Age. An intrusive Late Bronze Age pit was identified in the potential wall trench. A well containing Early Copper Age ceramics was uncovered on the west side of the site, between the palisade and the “empty centre”. The trench and palisade system at Körösladány-Bikeri is of interest due to the presence of two inner trenches, which may indicate an episode of expansion of the site. The artifact assemblage at Körösladány-Bikeri differs from VésztĘ-Bikeri primarily in the quantity of different types of Early Copper Age artifacts. From a spatial perspective, Körösladány-Bikeri is very different from VésztĘBikeri, whose site centre is inundated with artifacts contained within burned house structures. The relative distribution of phosphate in sites

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sediments is also significant. At VésztĘ-Bikeri, the area around the houses has low levels of phosphate, while the areas adjacent to the palisade have higher levels. Phosphate patterns at Körösladány-Bikeri are not as well defined, and great care must be taken when analyzing phosphate distributions in multi-component sites. Short of the presence of the trench and palisade system and the well, when compared to VésztĘ-Bikeri, Körösladány-Bikeri appears almost ephemeral as a settlement when placed for comparison next to its closest neighbor.

Geochemical Survey of Okány-Futás and MezĘberény-Bódis-major In addition to the extensive surveys and excavations of VésztĘ-Bikeri and Körösladány-Bikeri, two other small Tiszapolgár sites, Okány-Futás and MezĘberény-Bódis-major, were examined. The settlement at OkányFutás covers approximately 0.62 hectares set on a levee along the southeastern side of a relict channel of the Holt-Sebes-Körös River. The site has been surveyed several times since the 1970s (Ecsedy et al. 1982: 136; Parkinson 1999: 206; Hardy et al. forthcoming; Sarris 2006). Magnetometry (Sarris 2006) plus the presence of burnt daub clustering has identified a pair of structures at Okány-Futás. Figure 5-6 depicts the results of 2006-2007 phosphate survey results from Okány-Futás. In contrast with results from Körösladány-Bikeri and VésztĘ-Bikeri, the areas with the highest P levels at the Okány site are not located at the perimeter. Rather, the highest levels appear to be situated around the structures. This contrasts sharply with results from VésztĘ-Bikeri, where consistently low levels were found in the central area of the sites and circular patterning was observed (Sarris et al. 2004; Yerkes et al. 2007). Phosphate levels in this part of the site appear to occur just outside the structures, and to the southeast, away from the palaeochannel. The main areas of habitation and workspace appear to have spread linearly along the top of a loess ridge. MezĘberény-Bódis-major, while indeed roughly circular like the two sites at Bikeri, is smaller and lacks enclosing ditches. This site was recorded in the MRTs and was surveyed by Salisbury in October 2007 (Jankovich et al. 1998: 570; Salisbury forthcoming). The site covers approximately .36 hectares on a loess ridge that trends northwest to southeast along the south side of a palaeochannel. This ridge is relatively narrow, at less than 60m across from base of slope to base of slope. The site forms a definite low mound when viewed from the south and/or east. Several pits were identified on the mound during coring. Like Okány-

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Futás, MezĘberény-Bódis-major has high levels of phosphate occurring within the same central area as the cultural material (Figure 5-7). The pattern looks roughly like what one would expect of a small Tiszapolgár site, based on excavations conducted at the sites of VésztĘ-Bikeri and Körösladány-Bikeri (Gyucha et al. 2006; Parkinson et al. 2004). The phosphate results from MezĘberény are similar to those from VésztĘBikeri and Körösladány-Bikeri, as published by Sarris et al. (2004) and Hardy et al. (forthcoming), in the high levels within the settlement space, low levels outside this area, and a mix of highs and lows across the site. Moderate levels of phosphate mark the main site area, with highest levels again on the side away from the palaeochannel.

Figure 5-6. Results of phosphate survey for Okány-Futás.

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The results of phosphate surveys indicate that these two sites were organized differently from the two at Bikeri. Lack of ditches also results in different structuring of refuse disposal and/or stabling of livestock. The general trend in these two sites appears to be that activities resulting in the deposition of large quantities of phosphates, such as latrines, animal waste and butchering waste were located close to the habitation area on the side away from the palaeochannel. In addition, habitation and activity at Okány-Futás and MezĘberény appear strung out along levees when compared to the other two sites.

Figure 5-7. Results of phosphate survey for MezĘberény-Bódis-major.

It is worth remembering that we have no real idea of the spatial patterning of small Late Neolithic settlements from the Körös River region, but we now have quite a good understanding of spatial patterning at small Early Copper Age settlements. Tiszapolgár settlements typically are roughly circular and contain small, single room houses, wells, ovens

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and other task areas distributed randomly within an area generally smaller than 1 hectare. The four sites described here obviously show as many differences as similarities, so that within this broad description we have variability. The only strong structural connections between the VésztĘBikeri and Körösladány-Bikeri are the enclosures and the presence of pits, Tiszapolgár pottery and daub fragments. Neither of the other two sites appear be enclosed, while all four contain pits and show surface evidence for burnt buildings. In the discussion that follows, we propose several possible interpretations of these sites, based on the preceding discussions of changes in patterning at the regional and micro-regional levels and the need for communal gathering locations.

Discussion and Conclusion As summarized above, the Late Neolithic to Copper Age transition at the regional level was a time of social, political and economic change. At the micro-regional level, variability and continuity make the perceived changes less clear. Several observations can be made regarding the Early Copper Age settlement system with regard to communal interactions, and patterning at the regional and micro-regional levels can be synthesized. First, however, it is worth remarking on the potential for mortuary rituals to provide the impetus for social gathering. In her 1972 synthesis of the Tiszapolgár, Bognár-Kutzián suggested that there are four distinct clusters on the Hungarian Plain during the Early Copper Age, based on slight differences in ceramic stylistic attributes. Little survey or excavation of Tiszapolgár settlements had been conducted in Békés County prior to the late twentieth century, and Bognár-Kutzián’s maps show this area as falling between the Basatanya group to the north, the Deszk group to the south and the Tiszaug group to the west. The Deszk cluster to the south and the Basatanya cluster to the north each have at least one major cemetery. In the years since this seminal work, this area has been the focus of extensive survey and excavation (Ecsedy 1982; Jankovich 1989, 1998; Parkinson 2006; Parkinson et al. 2004; Sherratt 1982, 1983). Interestingly, though, it remains the case that no external cemeteries have been identified in northern Békés County. Furthermore, adult Tiszapolgár burials have been found within settlements at VésztĘ-Mágor (HegedĦs and Makkay 1987) and VésztĘ-Bikeri (Parkinson et al. 2004), suggesting the maintenance of Late Neolithic traditions of burial location in at least some circumstances. Although the adult Tiszapolgár burial at V-20 appears to have been deposited after the settlement was otherwise abandoned, this point in turn suggests continued knowledge and use of settlements post-

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abandonment, again implying continuity in land-use. Therefore, while we cannot rule out the possibility of interaction during mortuary rituals at a common cemetery, we should also contemplate other options. The suggestion that there are other sites within the settlement system that act as gathering places appears more viable with the addition of two additional variables; settlement variability and labor. As we see in the analysis of settlement patterns and comparisons of the four sites, there is a great degree of variability in settlement size and structure, even within the more homogeneous Early Copper Age. Extent of sedentism and settlement durability are not absolutely associated with tell sites alone, as demonstrated by Tringham and Kristiü (1990a) and Kotsakis (1999). If each Tiszapolgár settlement represents one extended family, that is one or two Late Neolithic multi-room longhouses (Parkinson 2002; Parkinson, Yerkes and Gyucha 2004), then it could be the case that each local cluster of Early Copper Age settlements represents one Late Neolithic house cluster. The local community would expand spatially from the previous neighborhood or cluster, but would maintain their connections. If this is the case, it would explain the six-fold increase in settlements from the Late Neolithic to the Early Copper Age without positing either a surge in population or a substantial increase in settlement mobility. Observations that settlements during the Early Copper Age appear to be less intensively occupied would still be the case, because they were; not for vastly shorter periods of time, but by fewer people over similar periods of time. We currently lack the requisite radiocarbon dates that might demonstrate continuity across small settlement clusters, but dates from VésztĘ-Bikeri and Körösladány-Bikeri suggest that they were occupied in succession (Yerkes et al. 2007). At VésztĘ-Bikeri, Parkinson and Gyucha and their colleagues have noted that the site appears to represent several cycles of house destruction and horizontal reconstruction, with houses rebuilt next to each other rather than on top of each other. Thus, we may assume a generational cycle of house rebuilding, with moves of settlement location occurring every several generations. The ditches surrounding these two sites represent a significant expenditure of labor. While the exact purpose of ditches enclosing Neolithic and Copper Age sites has been the subject of much speculation, it is likely that they served multiple functions, such as, flood and drainage control (Chapman 1981: 90-92; Bailey 2000), fortification (BognárKutzián 1972: 170; Chapman 1997: 151), control of livestock (Markotiü 1984: 17; Tringham 1971), and demarcation of territory (Tringham 1971).

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In this paper, we want to consider them as representative of a tradition in settlement organization. That is, instead of contemplating functions, we focus on a social reason for their existence: whatever their function was, people got together and dug them. Whittle (1996: 333; also Bailey 2000) associates the construction of ditches with the creation of the social landscape. In particular, Whittle suggests that enclosures served as gathering places, where the formation of common identity and social memory through feasting and mortuary rituals may have occurred. Although the scanty evidence available prior to the KRAP investigations in the Körös basin indicated that Early Copper Age settlements were not enclosed (Bognár-Kutzián 1972: 170), ditches and palisades surround both VésztĘ-Bikeri and Körösladány-Bikeri, and we repeat the caveat that the nature of small, flat Late Neolithic settlements has not been determined. Considering the effort required digging even a one-meter deep by onemeter wide trench in the soils of the Hungarian Plain, the very act of digging the ditches could have served as an opportunity for community integration and construction of social landscape. The interesting point made by Gyucha and colleagues (this volume) that the palisades were dismantled and ditches filled in at VésztĘ-Bikeri prior to abandonment suggests another tradition. Each enclosed settlement may only have been intended to create a sense of community identity while it was inhabited, and was then replaced by a new location, much as houses and pots were replaced when they reached the end of the use-lives. If ditches are a typical component of settlement structure for both the Tisza and Tiszapolgár, then the importance of labor is another instance of sense and necessity of community. However, the results of survey work at Okány-Futás and MezĘberény-Bódis-major suggest that not all Tiszapolgár sites were enclosed. Again referring to the KRAP excavations, the hypothesis that several of the settlements within an Early Copper Age cluster were occupied simultaneously would also explain the labor pool needed to dig ditches and erect palisades seen at VésztĘ-Bikeri and Körösladány-Bikeri. When settlements are too small to fulfill labor requirements, the larger local-scale community may be a group of neighboring sites that provide each other with labor, as well as marriage and exchange partners. House construction and location also play a role in our understanding. A hallmark of Neolithic settlements in southeastern Europe is the use of mud, usually for wattle and daub construction (Chapman 1981; Sherratt 1982; Stevanoviü 1997; Tringham 1971, 1995; Tringham and Kristiü

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1990). Deliberate house destruction by fire is also recognized as a common feature of Neolithic life here (Parkinson 2006; Stevanoviü 1997; Tringham 1995; Tringham and Stevanoviü 1990), and the remains of this practice are evident on the surface of Neolithic and Copper Age settlements as very visible concentrations of burned daub. Such concentrations typically correlate with house structures, for example as seen at VésztĘ-Bikeri (Parkinson et al. 2004), and are routinely interpreted as indicative of houses during surveys. Stevanoviü (1997) details evidence that this is a deliberate social practice, along with the possible reasons for it. Like the presence of ditches and a palisade around VésztĘ-Bikeri and Körösladány-Bikeri, the use of mud for construction of houses and the subsequent deliberate burning of these houses indicates the continuation of long-standing traditions. Long-standing traditions notwithstanding, the dispersal of settlements, new house sizes and restructuring of activity areas indicates a shake-up of socio-political organization. Houses at VésztĘ-Bikeri and KörösladányBikeri do not appear to have had indoor hearths or ovens, which suggests that cooking occurred outdoors, in view of the entire community. Siklódi (1983) gives examples of outdoor hearths and ovens from at the Tiszapolgár site of Tiszaföldvár-ÚjtemetĘ. Likewise, there is no clear evidence for storage jars or bins within Tiszapolgár houses. If settlement dispersal was part of a reaction against some aspects of closely packed tell-communities, for example a rejection of attempts at control over lithic and ore resources by some community members or lineages, then outdoor cooking could also be a way of preventing hoarding of food by community members. In addition, the change in settlement organization may be part of a movement toward specialization at the community or even household level (Kaiser and Voytek 1983). The presence of loom weights in only one of the excavated houses at VésztĘ-Bikeri could be an indication of craft specialization. Again, such specialization would require a way of exchanging goods or services at the local-scale level. We do need to add one caveat – thus far, all of our discussion of this transitional period compares large Late Neolithic settlements with proven multi-generational occupations to small Early Copper Age sites of apparently shorter occupational duration. Small Late Neolithic and large Early Copper Age sites have not been examined in any detail. In part, this is because these sites are fewer in number and have not been considered representative of their respective periods. To truly address the particulars of this transition, that is, to compare apples to apples, examinations of small Late Neolithic famsteads has begun (Salisbury 2008, 2009).

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The need to acknowledge potential gathering locales as part of the regional settlement pattern, combined with the lack of durable or permanent structures in the centre of Körösladány-Bikeri, hints to the potential use of the site as such a location. This is, however, a complex issue. First, exactly what should these gathering locales look like archaeologically? To formulate a model of communal Tiszapolgár sites, we need to ask what the archaeological correlates of a public feasting location would be. Certainly, storage pits filled with food remains could be one. Geochemical signatures for feasting locations have been identified in Honduras by Wells (2004). Complete multi-element workup of sediment samples collected at Körösladány-Bikeri has not been completed. However, we can suggest that an empty center with elevated levels of elements such as phosphate and calcium may indicate food preparation and consumption areas, especially if midden deposits contain large quantities of serving dishes, or faunal assemblages that suggest emphasis on specific species. Second, how would these community centers or gathering locales connect to the community of dispersed farmsteads? If we modified our picture to include a hierarchical community site structure, we could allow the integration of central places, but thus far, there is no evidence of such in the area. No sites show up as obvious tethering points within settlement clusters, although this could be an artifact of incomplete data. An alternate hypothesis is that some sites were constructed in order to facilitate the gathering of the wider local community for feasting, exchange and possibly religious functions. These sites would be interspersed among small farmsteads, and environmental constraints on site location dictate their topographic setting be identical to that of the farmsteads. Körösladány-Bikeri fits this description. With a site layout that allowed for the gathering of people, it is still not large, restricted as it is by the enclosures. However, consider what a place might look like if constructed for hosting the members of five or six small farmsteads several times a year. With this mental picture, an empty site core with a well and storage pits surrounding it would be a reasonable linking of space to function, and an area of about 2000 square meters would be sufficient for the task. We may never definitively determine the function of KörösladányBikeri, and in fact the site likely served multiple functions. One function appears to have been collective action. In this, Körösladány appears to mirror the Lengyel trend of one enclosure acting as an important communal, and perhaps sacred, location for more than one community (Petrasch 1990; Raczky et al. 1994; Trnka 1991). This is not to imply that

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the site is a roundel – it does not match the characteristic morphology of Lengyel roundels, it lacks Lengyel ceramics and in fact is well outside the Lengyel area. However, what we know of Körösladány-Bikeri suggests that it may have served an analogous function. We must also consider the fact that VésztĘ-Bikeri is a very early Tiszapolgár settlement (Parkinson forthcoming), and perhaps more representative of the small and largely unexamined Tisza sites, or largely unidentified Proto-Tiszapolgár settlements, rather than representing ‘typical’ Early Copper Age settlements. Assuming that Okány-Futás and mezĘbereny-68 are atypical Tiszapolgár settlements, then KörösladányBikeri may be special in some respect. This is a somewhat awkward interpretation, not the least because of the serendipity inherent in excavating one of the earliest and most unique Tiszapolgár sites out of the several hundred within our micro-region. Since these sites are what we have to work with, perhaps we should also consider the idea that the empty centre at Körösladány-Bikeri will be proven typical for the Early Copper Age, and that the built-up centre of VésztĘ-Bikeri is alone atypical. Often on non-tell sites there is a portion of the central area not built up, but reserved for communal areas, gardens or patios (Chapman 1989: 34). However, based on the phosphate, coring and geophysics conducted at Okány-Futás and mezobereny-68, small Tiszapolgár settlements do not have enclosures or open centers (Salisbury 2008; Hardy et al. forthcoming). Some Early Copper Age settlements could have acted as focal points in the landscape, where people gathered, while others served exclusively as farmsteads. This would correlate well with the evidence suggesting that people removed ditches and other overt markers of settlement during site abandonment. Excavation of additional Tiszapolgár settlements must occur before these possibilities can properly be addressed, especially in light of the fact that the northern inner areas at Körösladány-Bikeri were damaged by later occupations (Parkinson et al. 2004; Yerkes et al. 2007). A dialogue is opened here for questions about how and where within the landscape the people of the Early Copper Age enacted their social unity and equality. When additional geophysical and geochemical work is completed at the regional level, we will be able to make more comprehensive interpretations of the settlement pattern and social organization.

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Trnka, G. 1991. Studien zu Mittelneolithischen Kreisgrabenanlagen. Vienna: Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Wells, E. C. 2004. Investigating Activity Patterns In Prehispanic Plazas: Weak Acid-Extraction ICP-AES Analysis of Anthrosols at Classic Period El Coyote, Northwestern Honduras. Archaeometry 46(1): 6784. Whittle, A. 1996. Europe in the Neolithic: the creation of new worlds. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. —. 2007. The Early Neolithic on the Great Hungarian Plain: Investigations of the Körös culture site of Ecsegfalva 23, County Békés. Varia Archaeologica Hungarica XXI, Budapest: Hungarian Academy of Sciences. Yerkes, R. W., A. Sarris, T. Frolking, W. A. Parkinson, A. Gyucha, M. Hardy and L. Catanoso, 2007. Geophysical and geochemical investigations at two early copper age settlements in the Körös River Valley, Southeastern Hungary. Geoarchaeology 22(8): 845-871.

CHAPTER SIX THE SPATIALITY OF FOOD: DEFINING EARLY COPPER AGE HOUSEHOLDS ON THE GREAT HUNGARIAN PLAIN KIMBERLY KASPER

Introduction This paper highlights a methodology that intertwines archaeobotanical data with the application of geographic information systems to define food-related activities areas within early agricultural communities. This type of analysis leads to reconstructions of the primary use of plants and social spaces in the ‘built’ environment. An investigation of different contexts of archaeobotanical remains will facilitate representations of household dynamics related to food-related activities. The nature of food processing, preparation and consumption are exposed at an Early Copper Age community, VésztĘ-Bikeri, located on the Great Hungarian Plain in southeastern Hungary. A picture of group dynamics at the local scale is presented to position plant use within the regional traditions and transformations of early agricultural communities. Within the region, archaeologists have hypothesized that group dynamics at the regional level shifted from the Late Neolithic to the Early Copper Age as changes in ceramic styles, settlement patterns, mortuary and exchange practices occurred (Chapman et al.2003; Parkinson et al.2004; Sherratt 1997). The analysis in this paper tests a hypothesis that settlement organization at the intra-site level shifted to a more cooperative existence as cultural boundaries become more fluid and permeable during the Early Copper Age. The data collected from VésztĘ-Bikeri demonstrate that a range of collective activities, related to processing, preparation and consumption occurred between household units (which in this study are also labeled the extended family household unit). The spatial presence

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(and absence) of domesticated and wild food resources reveals that the inhabitants of VésztĘ-Bikeri were an integrated cooperative unit, relying heavily upon group dynamics within the settlement. In archaeological practice, households are seen as the vital spatial and ideological building blocks for reconstructing past communities (Allison 1999). The internal dynamics and interrelationships that exist within households construct and shape modes of production across a community. It is within this premise that we can explore how the spatiality of plantrelated activities reflects household behaviors. In many archaeological cases, the distribution of plant remains can be seen as reflections of human behaviors and define the spatial components of social organization and practices. Consequently, the reconstruction of plant processing, preparation and consumption areas across a site will illustrate the power and complexity of the domestic space while defining social and economic organization. At early agricultural communities on the Great Hungarian Plain, architecture is a reflection of behavioral patterns and can be seen as a ‘medium’ for structuring domestic activities inside and outside the physical parameters of the dwelling (Allison 1999). It is important to note that this analysis is not limited to household structures but takes into consideration the quantitative examination of the plant remains inside and outside individual structures. Nevertheless, architectural remains are seen as a primary stage for plant-related activities and can position plant production and consumption across a settlement site.

Regional framework In the last decade, scholars working in the Great Hungarian Plain have expanded the scope of their studies by focusing on settlement sites to understand range of cultural variability and social dynamics (Chapman et al.2003; O’Shea 1996; Parkinson et al. 2004; Sherratt 1997; Whittle 2007). Although these regional investigations have provided valuable information about the daily life of Neolithic, Copper and Bronze Age peoples, many generalize about the use of plants across the Plain in spite of the lack of comprehensive botanical analyses. Recent investigations move beyond summarizing the presence/absence of botanical remains and reconstruct plant husbandry and use of plants at settlement sites (Borojeviü 2004; Bogaard, Bending, and Jones 2007). The research discussed here builds off previous work conducted in the region but highlights a different methodology to demonstrate how the spatiality of plant remains is reflective of patterns of human behavior and settlement organization.

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Excavations at the VésztĘ-Bikeri site are part of the Körös Regional Archaeological Project (KRAP) which focuses on understanding the changes and settlement and site organization by southeastern European agricultural communities during the Late Neolithic (ca. 5,000-4,500 BC) to the Early Copper Age (ca. 4,500-4,000 BC) (Parkinson et al. 2004). The KRAP project is situated on the Great Hungarian Plain, which defines the eastern half of Hungary, stretching from the Danube flood plain to the foothills of the Transylvanian mountains in Romania (Figure 6-1). The VésztĘ-Bikeri site is located in the eastern section of the Middle Tisza region in northern Békés County. Before the sub-region was drained and regulated in the nineteenth century, this area was a chain of swamps and oxbows and is hypothesized to have contained a rich ecosystem for woodland exploitation and farming activities during the Late Neolithic and Copper Age.

Figure 6-1. Location of KRAP Study Area in Southeastern Hungary.

The transition from the Late Neolithic to the Early Copper Age on the Great Hungarian Plain was a time of extensive social, political, and economic changes. These cultural transformations affected human

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relationships and settlement organization on the local and regional level. During the Late Neolithic, three distinct groups, Tisza-Herpály-CsĘszhalom, coexisted on the Great Hungarian Plain. However, during the Copper Age, these three groups were replaced by a relatively uniform ‘culture’ called the Tiszapolgár culture (Bognár-Kutzián 1963; 1972; Sherratt 1983). General patterns within settlement organization highlight a substantial shift in size and densities of sites across the region. Large Neolithic ‘tell’ sites (approximately 6 hectares in size) and the ‘flat’ sites (approximately 11 hectares in size) were substituted for much smaller settlement sites (approximately 0.5-1 hectare in size) (Bognár-Kutzián 1972; Chapman 1994; Parkinson 1999; Sherratt 1983). In comparison to ‘tell’ life in the Neolithic, the increase in densities of single component ‘flat’ sites suggests a movement toward living at smaller settlements for shorter durations. At the regional scale, previous research conducted by Parkinson (2002; 2006) revealed that boundaries within the Tiszapolgár culture became more relaxed and permeable. At the intra-site level, it is unclear how households may have organized themselves, in lieu of the relaxation and unification of social boundaries with increased regional interaction. Generally, not much is known about Early Copper Age architecture since few sites have been excavated across the region. Of the sites that are excavated, Bognár-Kutzián (1972) and Parkinson (1999) suggested that smaller houses were erected in place of the large multi-family, domestic structures of the Late Neolithic (10-20 meters long). Although there is range of variability within sites during the Neolithic to Copper Age, the excavations at VésztĘ-Bikeri illustrate that Tiszapolgár communities formed their settlements around a single extended household unit. Chapman (2008) advocates for the use of analytical units of analysis, such as single-family/household, hamlet and village, to help classify sites which have been overlooked in the archaeological literature. According to Chapman’s classification, VésztĘ-Bikeri would be labeled as a singlefamily household site with either one or two structures, a small number of pits, and the significant accumulation of material remains from a small group of individuals. The lack of multiple households within these singlefamily sites does not preclude that Early Copper Age communities lived on a complex cultural landscape on the Great Hungarian Plain. Much can be learned about the social practices of the Tiszapolgár peoples through studying these single-household sites as active reflections of social organization and space on the Great Hungarian Plain.

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Situating the household in the Great Hungarian Plain Within the documented traditions and transformations which occurred from the Late Neolithic to Early Copper Age, there is little discussion about the manifestations of food-related activities at the household level and the physical nature of social spaces across the site. The tangible spaces within a house (or multiple houses) are linked with the economic processes of domestication and the formation of defined social units which coalesce across a site (Hodder 1990). The household during the Neolithic and Early Copper Age can symbolically represent the social and economic strategies and relations of power that occur within or outside the house. This discussion acknowledges that plant-related activities were conducted by many individuals and will not categorize plant-related activities to specific genders. It is important that men and women (and others) can be seen within the social units organized for this analysis. The household (whether nuclear or extended) is a dynamic reflection of all individuals as it represents differential modes of production within a variety of cultural activities (Hastorf 1998a). Fundamentally, the spatiality of plant remains across an early agricultural community can help define the organization of social units of all individuals because they are reflections of human-food interactions at the site level. During the Neolithic and Copper Ages, house structures are significant features in the domestic domain of a culture (Stevanoviü 1997). In the Neolithic, there is often one hearth or oven per room in the multi-room houses and evidence for the grinding of plant material and its storage particularly in the surrounding areas of the hearth. In some cases, ovens and hearths occur outside the house structure(s) but they are usually located close to the house(s). The ovens or hearths located at these sites were made out of wattle and daub, and more than likely served either as cooking spaces and/or were used to heat the house structures. Kilns also have been identified at many Neolithic sites, and may have been utilized for activities related to ceramic production and potentially food preparation, cooking and consumption. At VésztĘ-Bikeri, the only oven/hearth feature known at the site is located outside the household structures and there is no evidence for ceramics firing in this feature. This brings into question the nature of social spaces of the site during the Early Copper Age. Multiple activities would have surrounded the hearth. During the Neolithic, the vast majority of ovens and hearths were located inside the house structures and based upon the evidence at the Copper Age site, VésztĘ-Bikeri, the hearths and ovens are located outside the house

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structures. Is this a shift in the spatiality of cooking and other food-related activities? Does it signal a change in household organization of space? These questions are explored further in the remaining sections of the paper.

Plant processing, preparation and consumption within the household In recent decades archaeobotanical research in Europe has focused on the interpretation of crop processing activities within the archaeological record. In the early 1970’s, this subfield of archaeobotanical research was stimulated by various scholars interested in the differential contexts of archaeobotanical samples (Dennell 1972, 1974, 1976; Hubbard 1976; Renfrew 1973). During the 1980’s, G. Hillman (1981, 1984) and G. Jones (1983, 1984, 1987a, 1987b) developed novel methodologies for interpreting the archaeobotanical record in regards to crop processing activities. Ethnographic models were implemented for interpretative purposes to improve our understanding of the complex depositional nature of botanical remains across the archaeological site (Hillman 1981, 1984; G. Jones 1984, 1987b). Not only have these studies broadened our perception of the contextual nature of botanical remains but they have contributed immensely to the general awareness of the intra-site spatial variability of crop processing activities. Junior and senior researchers are constantly adding innovative analytical criteria, such as the relationships between weeds and crops, to understand the multifaceted cultural activities of crop processing, production and consumption (Bogaard 2004; G. Jones 1992; Lennstrom and Hastorf 1995; Valamoti 2004; van der Veen 1992). On the Great Hungarian Plain, reconstructions of food processing, preparation and consumption are often based on material culture, such as cooking implements and storage vessels. Because these artifacts are usually unearthed in secondary deposits, such as middens, the ability to study spatial patterns of food processing and consumption and the social relations they involve is often limited. Systematic excavation at settlement sites can solve this problem. Soils sampled from many different contexts (hearths, house floors, pits etc) can be informative about the kinds of activity areas which occur around the settlement site. The low presence of plant remains at settlement sites plagues many archaeobotanical investigations in this region. Scholars attribute the limited preservation to post-depositional processes such as the seasonal

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inundation of the floodplains (Borojeviü 2004; Bogaard, Bending and Jones 2007; Kasper 2003). However, there may also be cultural components that reduce the amount of plant remains within early agricultural communities. House structures burned and then collapsed with vast quantities of cultural debris, such as ceramics, cooking ovens, stone tools, figures, wood receptacles, baskets, and remains of stored food inside. Ethnographic work (Stevanoviü 1997) has demonstrated that large amounts of heat are needed to destroy a standing daub structure and it is postulated that this significantly affects the preservation of remains in and around the households. Regardless of these cultural and post-depositional taphonomic issues, this spatial investigation establishes that patterns can emerge out low-density data of plant remains, as it is still valuable to collect and process samples from sites that do not typically yield high amounts of plant remains. Botanical remains at an archaeological site can be related to a number of different activities (Lennstrom and Hastorf 1995). Features, such as house structures and pits, and non-feature areas are integral in defining the differential distribution of plant material across a settlement site. Activities such as those listed below have led to the residue or accumulation of edible and inedible botanical material in specific areas of the house structure or settlement site: Transporting the plants to the settlement or other processing place, threshing (beating, trampling, hand rubbing), raking (of grain, chaff, leftover plant by products), washing, drying, burning, parching, roasting, winnowing, sorting, sieving, grinding, dehusking, braiding, bagging, cutting up, boiling, baking, toasting, preparing a storage location, and placing the material in storage (Hastorf 1988b:125).

In numerous Late Neolithic and Copper Age sites in Southeastern Europe, seeds, such as Hordeum vulgare (barley), Triticum monococcum (einkorn) and Triticum dicoccum (emmer) can be found in household settings (Bogaard 2001; Borojeviü 1997; 2004; Hartyányi and Nováki 1972; Hubbard 1980; McLaren and Hubbard 1990). Seeds can be dropped on the floor or outside of a house structure during the process of cleaning and cooking, and the scattering of plant material is not uncommon during processing (Hastorf 1998b; Hillman 1984; Jones 1984). The walls of structures may have been used for propping storage bags and/or , resulting in the accumulation of plant materials around the inside and outside periphery of the structures. Remains uncovered against the house structures may reflect storage of fuel, raw materials and “tools evidence of

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plant processing – cleaning, winnowing, and sorting” (Hastorf 1998b:133). In addition, floor contexts of house structures may reflect a broad range of activities such as winnowing, sorting, storing and spills from processing or cooking. Regionally, seeds, such as Avena sp. (wild oat), Bromus sp. (brome), Setaria viridis (green bristle-grass) and Chenopodium sp. (goosefoot) have been recovered at the Bronze age site of Soroksár-Várhegy and the Neolithic site of Selevac (Gyulai 1993, 1999a: 28, 1999b; McLaren and Hubbard 1990: 252). Wild fruits, like Corylus avellana (hazel), Cornus mas (cornelian cherry), Prunus sp. (wild vine), Solanum nigrum (black nightshade), and Sambucus ebulus (danewort), have been identified at the Late Copper age site, Kompolt-Kistéri (Gyulai 1997: 76; Zohary and Hopf 1993). As botanical resources are excavated and analyzed systematically, we can extrapolate more about the cultural processes tied into agricultural practices, rather just creating simple species of lists. Fundamentally, indepth analyses that focus on intra-site spatial variability as well as the individual composition of botanical samples will aid in understanding the cultural presence and use of plants within this region.

Methodology During the field investigations which occurred between the years of 2001-2004, over 4870 liters of soils were floated, sorted and analyzed by the author at VésztĘ-Bikeri (Figure 6-2). Five hundred and fifty remains were recovered from different cultural contexts. Morphological characteristics such as appearance (color, size, surface patterning) and longitudinal and cross sections assisted in identifying the botanical material to genus and species level. Identification of the botanical material was challenging because in many samples the botanical material was highly vitrified and distorted. During identification, each identifiable whole seed was counted as one seed. Every identifiable seed fragment with an embryo was counted as one whole seed, including the category cereal fragments. Also, an incomplete seed fragment, such as an incomplete cereal fragment without an embryo, was counted as a whole seed if it was the only fragment for that species in that particular sample. In addition, each spikelet fork was calculated as one glume base. If the preservation of seeds was incomplete and highly fragmented, the seeds fragments were classified in the unidentifiable seed fragments category. See appendix (Table 6-2) for a full species list of botanical remains recovered.

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Figure 6-2. Outline of Block Excavation Units and Features at the VésztĘ-Bikeri site. (Dotted line indicates Blocks included in analysis/Block 4 excluded)

Because the single component nature of the site, all contexts analyzed were considered in association with Tiszapolgár cultural activities. Only one context, Feature 128 (an intrusive Hungarian Conquest period burial) located in the northeastern section of Block 2, was not included. To aid in

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the interpretations of the presence of plant remains, the feature and non features areas were divided into appropriate cultural complexes depending on cultural and stratigraphic contexts (Table 6-1). These analytical units of analysis were helpful to discern which complexes are intensely associated with food processing, preparation and consumption. To standardize the data, the total number of plant remains per sample were divided by the amount of soil sampled and floated (liters). Overall, density of plant remains recovered in relation to the amount of soil analyzed per context at VésztĘ-Bikeri was low (Figure 6-3). In this analysis, Kernel Density Estimation (KDE), projected using ArchGIS, was employed to provide meaning to large amounts of what may seem insignificant spatial information (Baxter and Beardah 1997). KDE is a robust methodology utilized to map the proximate incidences of plant remains across habitation sites to recognize cultural activities, such as the ones discussed above. KDE describes the “intensity of incidence” so that spatial dependence or independence of plant remains can then be evaluated and considered (Koch and Denike 2001; 2007). The significance of botanical clusters exists only in the context of patterns of distributions and densities at the intra-site scale of analysis. Each kernel density describes a “bump” at each data point (Bailey and Gatreel 1995) which relates to the intensity of botanical remains within a referenced space. Those ‘bumps’ are then plotted in a two dimensional plane to create a density surface.

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Table 6-1. Cultural Complexes at the VésztĘ-Bikeri site. Block Excavation 2 2 2 3 3 3 7

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Areas Surrounding Inner/Outer Trenches Burial Kiln House Wall Trenches/ Postholes Pits Inside and Surrounding House

Associated Feature (s) 4, 14, 34 26/24, 28/72, 29/31, 86/104 & 129, 123 13/23, 69, 94, 96, 97, 137 No Feature #’s 88/91, 92 & 106 85 80, 81, 84, 87, 95, 101, 102, 103, 116, 1771, 118, 119, 120, 121, 130, 141, 142, 143 66, 109, 110 36, 37, 39, 41, 42, 53, 61, 65, 73, 75, 76, 79, 82, 125, 133, 138, 144 71 35/105 15 107, 110, 11, 112, 113, 114, 115, 124, 135 90, 98, 100, 101, 126, 146

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For this analysis, KDE’s are based on point data collected at the VésztĘ-Bikeri site. Before the KDE projections could be calculated, the center point for each excavation unit was computed. Associated density information for the plant remains were tied to that point. The plant densities represented within each point were then tied back to a specific excavation unit. Although the features and non-features were lumped into complex units of analysis above, for KDE’s each centroid for an excavation unit was mapped as a single point and analyzed. Because of the ephemeral nature of the stratigraphic deposits at VésztĘ-Bikeri, if excavation units shared the same centroid (northings and eastings), the botanical data was collapsed into a two dimensional space. Over 300 collapsed data points were utilized to map the total density of plant remains across the site. The only area in which a discrete stratigraphic layer was distinguishable was in Block 2, Feature 4/14. The presence of plant remains were projected for the floor of this house structure and will be discussed in the results section. Each of the KDE’s projected is controlled with bandwidth parameter, which specifies how wide the search should be when determining which pairs of points will be plotted. This bandwidth parameter determines the smoothness of the data and other characteristics of the surface (Wheatley and Gillings 2002: 186). In KDE’s, the search radius and output cell size must be specified to create the projected surface. In this analysis, the search radius for each discrete data point was limited to one meter to take into consideration the densities of nearby units. Also, the output cell size for each KDE was set at one meter to produce an accurate reflection of the spatial components of each excavation unit. The one meter search radius and output cell size helped to produce a smoother surface to determine food related activities related to architectural features across VésztĘBikeri. The projection of KDE is not altered by the lack of spatial of information for unexcavated areas and/or areas that have not been sampled for floatation. At the VésztĘ-Bikeri site, these white areas are not associated with a black point in the projected KDE maps. To clarify, the excavated areas (white and non-white) that have a black point(s), demarcate excavation units that yielded zero presence of plant material. The ability to project areas of zero presence is just as important as projecting area of high densities and highlights another reason why the KDE methodology is appropriate and useful to define of activities areas across a habitation site.

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To correct for edge effect (the fall off of data occurring at the boundary of the site or excavated area), each kernel density plotted in this analysis does not project into areas that are not excavated. One by one meter units were the standard unit of excavation at VésztĘ-Bikeri (although some units were smaller and larger) and this analysis did not set the analysis parameters past a one meter search radius and one meter output for the kernel. This maintains the most realistic projections and pattern analysis for plant densities across the site.

Defining activity areas at VésztĘ-Bikeri Generally, Tiszapolgár people at VésztĘ-Bikeri were utilizing and cultivating domesticated Hordeum vulgare (barley), Triticum aestivum (bread wheat) and Triticum monococcum/dicoccum (einkorn/emmer) species. The highest percentages of plant remains recovered in different contexts were domesticates (Figure 6-4). The presence of the limited amount of fruits suggests that the VésztĘ-Bikeri peoples were exploiting Fragaria vesca (wild strawberry), Cornus mas (cornelian cherry) and a Prunus sp. (cherry or plum) to a certain degree. Weed species like Polgyonum sp. (knotgrass) and Chenopodium sp. (goosefoot) may have been utilized as a supplementary food in the diet. In addition, Vicia sp. (vetch) and Pancium sp. (millet) are present, suggesting that other domesticates were grown and were harvested and used for animal fodder and/or human consumption. Please see the appendix (Table 6-2) for a full species list of domesticates, weeds and fruits and nuts recovered from each context. Originally, we hypothesized that the occupants at VésztĘ-Bikeri may not be storing any botanical remains and/or processing plants because the low visibility of plant remains (Figure 6-3). However, a KDE analysis based upon over 500 soil samples taken from different spatial contexts demonstrated that food-related activity areas were present (Figure 6-4). Generally, the densities of all plant remains present within each cultural context were calculated to gain an understanding of overall presence of domesticates, weeds and fruits/nuts (Figure 6-4). Because of the high presence of domesticates at the site, the KDE for the total plant remains (Figure 6-5) in each excavation unit (per liter of soil floated) mimics the KDE for the presence of domesticates (per liter of soil). The KDE for the weed densities were also projected and certain areas may be reflective processing of agricultural products at VésztĘ-Bikeri (Figure 6-6). KDE were not mapped for the densities of fruits/nuts across VésztĘ-Bikeri due

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Figure 6-4. Presence of Plant Remains per Complex.

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After mapping the projected KDE’s across VésztĘ-Bikeri, most of the plant activities appear to have taken place in Blocks 2, 8 and 9 (Figure 65). In Block 3, one house structure was located but during excavation only one wall trench (Feature 88) could be clearly distinguished. Based upon the extremely limited presence of botanical remains from this area, Block 3 may not have been utilized for plant related activities. It is possible that some activities occurred in the most southern portion of the block. However, until this house structure is more clearly defined it is difficult to determine which activities (or lack there of) may have materialized inside and outside the structure. If this house structure was occupied at the same time of Feature 4/14 in Block 2 then lack of plant related-activity in the areas in Block 3 signals that resources were pooled across VésztĘ-Bikeri. Most activities appear to have taken place within area just south of the structure in Block 3 (Figure 6-5). This patterning does not appear to reflect differential access to plants because of the proximity of other households and other density patterning of plant remains across the site. Further discussion of areas with high density of plant remains within Blocks 2, 8, and 9 occurs below.

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Figure 6-5. Kernel Density Estimates for Plant Remains at VésztĘ-Bikeri.

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Figure 6-6. Kernel Density Estimates for Weeds at VésztĘ-Bikeri.

Plant Activity Area One The hearth feature, located in Block 8, is in the center of this activity area (Figure 6-7). The hearth was made out of wattle and daub with many outlets for smoke release. It a unique feature within the VésztĘ-Bikeri cultural contexts and perhaps more largely on the Great Hungarian landscape. It may have once been a well structure since the hearth/oven feature appears to be placed on top of two meters of vitrified daub. The well appears to have been filled in and capped at some point during VésztĘ-Bikeri occupation. The hearth feature is not directly related to any single house structure but is placed south of the main area of the site (Figure 6-2). Because there are no hearths in any of the house structures, the spatial placement signals a cooperative component to food activities at

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VésztĘ-Bikeri. It would have been essential that all individuals would have had access to preparing and cooking their food. Many of the remains from this activity area are glume wheat grains (42%) and barley grain (17%) (Figure 6-8). There is also a significant presence of other domesticates (20%), such as millet and grass pea with a small presence of fruits and nuts (2%). The small presence of weeds (7%) (Figure 6-6) and glume wheat rachis (2%) may demonstrate that the inhabitants were burning the by-products of plant processing in this activity area. Carex, Chenopodium, Galium and Polygonum weed seeds were recovered in this context. The highest KDE’s of remains projected were from this activity area (Figure 6-5). The density estimates demonstrate that this area was intensely used by the inhabitants of VésztĘBikeri and was the hub of different types of food-related activities (preparation and consumption) at VésztĘ-Bikeri.

Figure 6-7. Plant Activity Area One (Hearth Feature) at the VésztĘ-Bikeri site.

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Plant Activity Area Two This activity area is made of three discrete contexts: 1) three pit features (Feature 98, 126, 127 and 137); 2) one wall trench (Feature 123); and 3) the area in the center of the house structure (Feature 15) (see Figure 6-5). This area is primarily located in Block 9, which contained an unburned house structure (Feature 15). The terre pisé house is thought to be built before the wattle and daub structure (Feature 4/14) in Block 2 (Gyucha et al. 2006). The plant remains that were recovered from this area are may be associated with: 1) food-related activities that took place after the house structure was level and/or 2) activities that happened when the house (Feature 15) was occupied. The floor level was extremely hard to distinguish during excavation so all soil samples extracted from this area were categorized within a cultural layer (both the floor and cultural layers excavated). 2% 2% 17%

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In Activity Area Two, these three specific locales have been lumped together because of their patterning in the densities remains. It is more likely the plant remains within this activity area are products of food processing that occurred after the house structure (Feature 15) was leveled and the new structure (Feature 4) was created and lived in. Very few excavated remains were recovered from Feature 15 (Gyucha et al. 2006)

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and it seems that the remains which were identified were products of foodprocessing (domesticates and weeds). Some fruits and nuts were recovered in this area but almost all the remains were glume wheat and barley grains (95%) with a small amount of weeds (Figure 6-6) and fruit and nuts (5%) recovered in this area. This area may have been utilized as a processing area for agricultural products before they were cooked in nearby hearth.

Plant Activity Area Three This area consists of 1) portions of wall trenches (Features 26 and 28); and 2) the area inside the house structure (Feature 4/14) (Figure 6-5). This area may overlap with Activity Area Four in the northeast section of Block 2. However, if one assumes that this area is reflective of food-related activities that would have occurred when Feature 4/14 was occupied then the high densities of plant remains may be indicative of actions within the house structure (Figures 6-4 through 6-6). KDE were also projected for the total plant remains on the floor context of this Block (Figure 6-8) Because of the ephemeral stratigraphic quality of the floor levels in Block 9 and 3, KDE were only mapped for floor contexts within Block 2. An interesting pattern emerged within this Block despite the level of firing that Feature 4/14 must have undergone when the house was ‘culturally closed’. It appears that processing of grains may have occurred on the floor of this structure and then stored in nearby pits (like Feature 13) (Figure 6-9). In general, there are very few weeds recovered from this area (less than 3% of the assemblage; Figure 6-4) but a high density of domesticates (Figure 6-6). This may demonstrate that the grains when brought into the house had already been through an initial stage of processing. Some rachis fragments (13% of the total assemblage in Block 2) signals that there was more processing occurring within the household. In addition, the high density of the remains around the wall trenches may indicate that processed semi-processed plants were hung from the wall.

Plant Activity Area Four This area consists of a 1) the wall trench of Feature 15 (continuation of F.29 to the east); and 2) two pits (Features 13 and 90 (which contained a pig burial)) (Figure 6-5). The high density of plant remains within this area may not necessarily, as stated earlier, be reflective of when Feature 15 was

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occupied. Instead, the high densities of remains may represent the products of agricultural processing which occurred outside of the house structure in Block 2 (Feature 4/14). Feature 13 contained mainly cleaned grain and contained no by-products of crop processing activities (no weeds or chaff remains) (Figure 6-6). The surrounding areas around Feature 13 did have high densities of fruits and nuts remains and may hint that this pit was utilized for refuse instead of storage of grains.

Figure 6-9. Densities of Plant Remains with the Floor Context of Plant Activity Area 4. (House Structure)

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Plant Activity Area Five This area consists of a male burial (Feature 71) found in Block 7 (Figure 6-5). No weed or fruit/nut remains were recover instead the excavation contexts contained barley and glume wheat grains (Figure 6-6). These grains may have been an offering to the male during final burial. What is most interesting about this area is the lack of intensity of other domesticates and weeds in surrounding areas. One could assume that certain agricultural products may be deposited within the trenches. These areas yielded low densities, except for the burial context, and do not indicate any activities related to plant processing, preparation or consumption.

Conclusions This paper highlights a methodology that can be applied to gain a more nuanced understanding of the intra-site patterning of food processing, preparation and consumption. Although there is limited preservation of the plant remains at the VésztĘ-Bikeri, this type of spatial analyses reveals that conclusions can be drawn about activity areas and social organization across early agricultural communities. Nevertheless, one must be cautious when applying certain methodology to project patterns of food processing, preparation and consumption because there are many post-depositional and cultural processes that significantly affect the in situ preservation of plant material, such as the burning of house structures. In the case of VésztĘ-Bikeri, we can loosely define those processes to extrapolate information from the spatial densities of plant remains. The projected KDE’s of both domesticates and weeds reveals that the reorganization of the social spaces (and the domus) at VésztĘ-Bikeri may have been associated with a change in the relationship of the household to the primary unit of pooling. The high density of remains within the central hearth feature demonstrates that the household unit at VésztĘ-Bikeri may have been composed of a number of nuclear family units that participated and cooperated in daily activities on the settlement. Individual nuclear family units seem to have created a single, well-integrated social unit (the extended household unit) that worked in tandem processing, preparing and consuming agricultural plant products. The ‘domus’ appears to encompass the extended household unit, as the outside hearth is at the hub of all domestic activities. The hearth can be seen as a cultural area that brought together the nuclear families in preparing and consuming foodstuffs. In summary, the projected densities of domesticated grains and other weedy

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species exposes that the Tiszapolgár peoples at VésztĘ-Bikeri were processing, preparing and cooking foodstuffs and engaged in an active cooperative existence at the intra site level. Regionally, VésztĘ-Bikeri is an ideal archaeological site to document changes during the transition from the Late Neolithic to Early Copper Age. It is a multi-faceted settlement site with fortifications, numerous house structures, a central hearth feature and large quantities of material culture (ceramic and bone). An in-depth study of the food processing and consumption from this site has aided in understanding the cultural presence of the Tiszapolgár peoples on the Great Hungarian Plain. We must continue to build on the information supplied in this paper to comprehend the dimensions of how and to what extent domesticates and wild resources were utilized within this region. The methodology utilized in this paper is applicable to many other periods in the region and can situate the social and economic use of plants. In essence, we require more systematic and dynamic investigations to record shifts in plant use across time and space. This will aid in our awareness of how food-related activities are reflective of the social organization within early agricultural communities.

Acknowledgements I would like to thank all my colleagues for their input in this article, especially Margaret Morris for listening and giving guidance in the many conversations for this work. This botanical investigation would not have been possible without support from the Körös Regional Archaeological Project researchers and participants and funding from the National Science Foundation, the Wenner-Gren Foundation for Anthropological Research, and the Hungarian Academy of Sciences. In addition, I would like to thank Tina Thurston and Roderick Salisbury for organizing the session in Krakow, which is the foundation for this volume.

Works Cited Allison, P. (ed.) 1999. The Archaeology of Household Activities. London: Routledge. Bailey, T. C. and A. C. Gatrell, 1995. Interactive Spatial Data Analysis. New York: Wiley. Baxter, M. J. and C. C. Beardah, 1997. Some Archaeological Application of Kernel Density Estimates. Journal of Archaeological Science 24: 347-354.

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Bogaard, A. 2001. Charred Plant Remains from Flotation in 2000. In Southern Romania Archaeological Project–Second Preliminary Report, pp. 113-127. Cardiff: Cardiff Studies in Archaeology. Bogaard, A., J. Bending, and G. Jones, 2007. Archaeobotanical evidence for plant husbandry and use. In A. Whittle (ed.) The Early Neolithic on the Great Hungarian Plain: investigations of the Körös culture site of Ecsegfalva 23, Co. Békés, pp. 421-445. Budapest: Institute of Archaeology, Hungarian Academy of Sciences. Bognár-Kutzián, I. 1963. The Copper Age Cemetery of TiszapolgárBasatanya. Budapest: Akadémia Kiadó. —. 1972. The Early Copper Age Tiszapolgár Culture in the Carpathian Basin. Budapest: Akadémia Kiadó. Borojeviü, K. 1997. The Relations Among Farming Practices, Landownership, and Social Stratification in the Balkan Neolithic Period. Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation. Department of Anthropology, Washington University, Saint Louis, Missouri. —. 2004. Terra and Silva in Pannonian Plain: Opovo agro-gathering in the Late Neolithic. BAR International Series 1563. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports, Archaeopress. Chapman, J.C. 1994. Social Power in the Early Farming Communities of Eastern Hungary – Perspectives from the Upper Tisza Region. A Jósa András Múzeum Évkönyve 36: 79-100. —. 2008. Meet the Ancestors: settlement histories in the Neolithic. In D. Bailey, A. Whittle and D. Hoffman (eds.) Living Well Together?: Settlement and Materiality in the Neolithic of South-East and Central Europe, pp. 68-80. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Chapman, J. C., R. S. Shiel, D. G. Passmore, E. Magyari, and M. Gillings, 2003. Upper Tisza Project: studies in Hungarian landscape archaeology. E-book. York: AHDS Archaeology. Gyulai, F. 1993. Environment and Agriculture in Bronze Age Hungary. Budapest: Archaeolingua. —. 1997. Proof of Copper Age Drink Production Based on the Botanical Remains Found at Site Number 15, Kompt-Kistéri Tanya 15 Farm. Kulonnyomat Az Agria Evokönyve 33: 59-76. —. 1999a. Conclusions on Plant Cultivation of Middle Bronze Age Fortified Settlements Drawn from the Evidence of Plant Remains. Communicationes Archaeologicae Hungariae 1999: 5-34. —. 1999b. The Einkorn as Living Part of an Ancient Landscape. In E. Jerem and I. Poroszlai (eds.) Archaeology of the Bronze Age and Iron Age, pp. 297-302. Proceedings of the International Archaeological Conference. Budapest: Archaeolingua.

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Dennell, R. W. 1972. The interpretation of plant remains: Bulgaria. In E. S Higgs (ed.) Papers in Economic Prehistory, pp. 149-159. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. —. 1974. The purity of prehistoric crops. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 40: 132-135. —. 1976. Plant resources on archaeological sites. Journal of Archaeological Science 3: 229-247. Hastorf, C. A. 1998a. The Cultural Life of Early Domestic Plant Use. Antiquity 72:773-782. —. 1998b. The Use of Palaeoethnobotanical Data in Prehistoric Studies of Crop Production, Processing and Consumption. In C. A. Hastorf and V. S. Popper (eds.) Current Palaeoethnobotany: Analytical Methods and Cultural Interpretation of Archaeological Plant Remains, pp. 119144. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Hartyányi, B. P. and Gy. Nováki, 1975. Növényi Mag-és Termésletek Magyarországon az ÚjkĘkortól a XVIII (Plant Seed and Fruit Remains from Hungary Between the Neolithic and the 18th Century). Magyar MezĘgazdaság Múzeum Közleményei 1975: 5-85. Hillman, G. 1981. Reconstructing crop husbandry practices from charred remains of crops. In R. Mercer (ed.) Farming Practice in British Prehistory, pp. 123-162. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. —. 1984. Interpretation of Archaeological Plant Remains: The Application of Ethnographic Models from Turkey. In W. VanZeist and W. A. Casparie (eds.) Plants and Ancient Man: Studies in Palaeoethnobotany, pp. 123-62. Rotterdam: Balkema. Hodder, I. 1990. The Domestication of Europe: Structure and Contingency in Neolithic Societies. Oxford: Blackwell. Hubbard, R. N. L. B. 1975. On the strength of the evidence for prehistoric crop processing activities. Journal of Archaeological Science 3: 257265. —. 1980. Development of Agriculture in Europe and the Near East: Evidence from Quantitative Studies. Economic Botany 34: 51-67. Kasper, K. 2003. Macrobotanical Analysis in Southeastern Europe: The VésztĘ-Bikeri site. Unpublished Masters Thesis. Florida State University, Tallahassee, Florida. Koche, T. and K. Denike, 2001. GIS approaches to the problem of disease clusters: a brief commentary. Social Science and Medicine 52: 17511754. —. 2007. Aaron’s Solution, Instructor’s Problems: Teaching Surface Analysis Using GIS. Journal of Geography 106: 69-77. Jones, G. 1983. The Ethnoarchaeology of crop processing: seeds of a

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middle-range methodology. Archaeological Review from Cambridge 2: 17-26. —. 1984. Interpretation of archaeological plan remains: ethnographic models from Greece. In W. van Zeist and W. A. Casparie (eds.) Plants and Ancient Man: Studies in Palaeoethnobotany, pp. 43-61. Rotterdam: Balkema. —. 1987a. Agricultural practice in Greek prehistory. Annual of the British School at Athens 82: 115-123. —. 1987b. A statistical approach to the archaeological identification of crop processing. Journal of Archaeological Science 14: 311-323. Lennstrom, H. A. and C. A. Hastorf, 1994. Interpretation in Context: Sampling and Analysis in Paleoethnobotany. American Antiquity 60: 701-721. McLaren, F. S. and R. N. L. B. Hubbard, 1990. Archaeobotanical Remains. In R. Tringham and D. Kristiü (eds.) Selevac: A Neolithic Village in Yugoslavia, pp. 247-254. Los Angeles: University of California Press. O’Shea, J. 1996. Villagers of the Maros: A Portrait of an Early Bronze Age Society. New York: Plenum Press. Parkinson, W. A. 1999. The Social Organization of Early Copper Age Tribes on the Great Hungarian Plain. Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation. Department of Anthropology, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. —. 2002. Integration, Interaction, and Tribal ‘Cycling’: The Transition to the Copper Age on the Great Hungarian Plain. In W. A Parkinson (ed.) Tribal Tempos: Time and Social Organization in the So-Called “Middle Range” Societies, pp. 391-438. Ann Arbor, MI: International Monographs in Prehistory. Parkinson, W. A., R. W. Yerkes, and A. Gyucha, 2004. Transition to the Copper Age on the Great Hungarian Plain: The Körös Regional Archaeological Project Excavations at VésztĘ-20 and KörösladányBikeri, Hungary, 2000-2002. Journal of Field Archaeology 29: 101121. Renfrew, J. M. 1973. Palaeoethnobotany: The Prehistoric Food Plants of the Near East and Europe. New York: Columbia University Press. Sherratt, A. 1983. The Development of Neolithic and Copper Age Settlement in the Great Hungarian Plain, Part I: The Regional Setting. Oxford Journal of Archaeology 1: 287-316. —. 1997. The Development of Neolithic and Copper Age Settlement in the Great Hungarian Plain. In Economy and Society in Prehistoric Europe: Changing Perspectives, pp. 270-319. Princeton: Princeton University Press. .

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Stevanoviü, M. 1997. The Age of Clay: The Social Dynamics of House Destruction. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 16: 334-395. Tálás, L. and P. Raczky, 1987. The Late Neolithic of the Tisza Region. Budapest-Szolnok: Kossuth Press. Valamoti, S. M. 2004. Plants and people in the late Neolithic and Early Bronze Age Northern Greece: an archaeobotanical investigation. Bar International Series 1258. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports, Archaeopress. Van der Veen, M. 1992. Crop husbandry regimes: an archaeobotanical study of farming in northern England, 1000 B.C.- A.D. 500. Sheffield: J. R. Collis Publications. Wheatley, D. and M. Gillings, 2001. Spatial Technology and Archaeology: The Archaeology Application of GIS. London: Taylor and Francis. Zohary, D. and M. Hopf, 1993. Domestication of Plants in the Old World: The Origin and Spread of Cultivated Plants in West Asia, Europe, and the Nile Valley. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Feature Complex Volume of Soil (Liters) Weight of HF (g) Weight of LF (g) Domesticates Triticum dicoccum Triticum dicoccum Rachis Triticum monococcum Triticum aestivim Triticum Indeterminate Triticum Indeterminate Rachis Triticum Indeterminate Fragments Hordeum vulgare (hulled)

192

BLOCK 2: WALL TRENCHES

1069 142978 1100

2

0

1 0

13

0

4

5

BLOCK 2: PITS

291 44863 413

1

1

0 0

1

0

0

1

8

6

1

9

1 3

0

1

445 41420 293

BLOCK 2: ASSOCIATED F.4

8

6

4

8

0 3

0

0

403.25 39657 159.6

BLOCK 2: HOUSE

0

0

0

0

0 0

0

0

173 21165 301

BLOCK 3: WALL TRENCH

Table 6-2. Appendix: Identified Plant Remains from VésztĘ-Bikeri

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0

0

0

0

0 0

0

0

37 3885 41

BLOCK 3: BURIAL

1

1

0

0

0 0

0

1

374 27390 432

BLOCK 3: HOUSE

19 0 3 1 0 2 2 63 0.059 0 5 4 1 10 0.009

4 0 0 0 0 0 0 12 0.063 0 0 1 3 4 0.021

Indeterminate Hordeum/ Triticum Fragments Cereal Indeterminate Panicum miliáceum cf. Panicum miliáceum Large Legume Indeterminate Large Legume. Fragments Lens culinaris Total Domesticates Domesticates per 1 liter of soil Weeds Carex Indeterminate Chenopodium Indeterminate Galium Indeterminate Polygonum Indeterminate Total Weeds Weeds per 1 liters of soil

3 8

1 3

Hordeum Indeterminate Fragments Hordeum/ Triticum

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0 2 0 1 3 0.007

19 0 1 0 2 0 0 59 7.033

6 2

0 2 0 2 4 0.010

24 0 1 0 0 0 0 57 0.141

1 2

0 0 0 0 0 0.000

0 0 1 0 0 0 0 2 0.012

1 0

0 0 0 0 0 0.000

1 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 0.027

0 0

0 1 0 1 2 0.005

1 0 0 0 0 0 0 5 0.013

0 1

193

Nuts and Fruits Cornus mas Corylus Indeterminate Fragments Frageria vesca Nutmeat Indeterminate Prunus Indeterminate Vitis Indeterminate Fragments Total Fruits and Nuts Fruits and Nuts per 1 liter soil Other Identifiable Seeds Indeterminate Seed Fragments Indeterminate Plant Fragments Totals for Feature Complex Totals per 1 liter of soil in Feature Complex

194

2 0 2 0 0 0 4 0.004 2 6 8 91 0.085

0 0 0 0 0 1 1 0.005 2 0 1 20 0.105

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3 3 5 74 0.166

1 0 0 0 1 0 2 0.004 6 1 0 69 0.171

1 0 0 0 1 0 2 0.005 0 0 2 4 0.023

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0.000 0 0 0 1 0.027

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0.000 0 1 5 13 0.035

1 0 0 0 0 0 1 0.003

Triticum Indeterminate Rachis Triticum Indeterminate Fragments Hordeum vulgare (hulled) Hordeum Indeterminate Fragments Hordeum/ Triticum Indeterminate Hordeum/ Triticum Fragments Cereal Indeterminate Panicum miliáceum cf. Panicum miliáceum Large Legume Indeterminate Large Legume. Fragments Lens culinaris

Feature Complex Volume of Soil (Liters) Weight of HF (g) Weight of LF (g) Domesticates Triticum dicoccum Triticum dicoccum Rachis Triticum monococcum Triticum aestivim Triticum Indeterminate 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 0

0 0 1 0 0 0 0

0 0 0 0 0

0 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 2

BLOCK 7: OUTER TRENCH 70 3493 36.1

BLOCK 7: INNER TRENCH 427.5 32432 126.45

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7 0 2 0 0 0 1

3 3 3 1 1

2 0 0 0 3

BLOCK 7: OUTSIDE DITCHES 348 37076 274

5 0 0 0 0 0 0

0 1 1 0 2

0 0 0 0 1

BLOCK 7: BURIAL 58 6750 30

21 0 11 0 1 0 0

0 13 6 2 4

2 1 1 0 22

BLOCK 8: KILN 430 147594 416.9

195

Total Domesticates Domesticates per 1 liter of soil Weeds Carex Indeterminate Chenopodium Indeterminate Galium Indeterminate Polygonum Indeterminate Total Weeds Weeds per 1 liters of soil Nuts and Fruits Cornus mas Corylus Indeterminate Fragments Frageria vesca Nutmeat Indeterminate Prunus Indeterminate Vitis Indeterminate Fragments Total Fruits and Nuts Fruits and Nuts per 1 liter soil Other Identifiable Seeds Indeterminate Seed Fragments Indeterminate Plant Fragments Totals for Feature Complex Totals per 1 liter of soil in Feature Complex

196 1 0.014 0 0 0 0 0 0.000 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0.000 0 0 0 1 0.014

4 0.009 0 0 1 0 1 0.002 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0.000 0 1 4 10 0.023

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3 4 14 49 0.141

1 0 1 0 0 0 2 0.006

0 1 0 0.00 1 0.111

26 0.075

1 2 0 13 0.224

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0.000

0 0 0 0 0 0.000

10 0.172

1 11 13 120 0.279

0 0 0 1 0 0 1 0.125

1 2 1 6 10 0.023

84 0.195

0 0 0 0 3

2 0 1 0 0 0 7 3 0 3 9 1 2 0 0 0 0 28

Triticum Indeterminate Rachis Triticum Indeterminate Fragments Hordeum vulgare (hulled) Hordeum Indeterminate Fragments Hordeum/ Triticum

Indeterminate Hordeum/ Triticum Fragments Cereal Indeterminate Panicum miliáceum cf. Panicum miliáceum Large Legume Indeterminate Large Legume. Fragments Lens culinaris Total Domesticates

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 6

0 2 1 0 0

BLOCK 9: POSTHOLES 85 12515 62

BLOCK 9: HOUSE 550 62116 653

Feature Complex Volume of Soil (Liters) Weight of HF (g) Weight of LF (g) Domesticates Triticum dicoccum Triticum dicoccum Rachis Triticum monococcum Triticum aestivim Triticum Indeterminate

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4 1 1 0 0 0 0 18

1 3 1 3 2

1 0 0 0 1

BLOCK 9: PITS 143 13240 124.9

115 2 23 1 3 2 3 376

9 46 38 18 30

12 2 4 6 62

TOTAL 4902.75 636574 4463.05

197

Domesticates per 1 liter of soil Weeds Carex Indeterminate Chenopodium Indeterminate Galium Indeterminate Polygonum Indeterminate Total Weeds Weeds per 1 liters of soil Nuts and Fruits Cornus mas Corylus Indeterminate Fragments Frageria vesca Nutmeat Indeterminate Prunus Indeterminate Vitis Indeterminate Fragments Total Fruits and Nuts Fruits and Nuts per 1 liter soil Other Identifiable Seeds Indeterminate Seed Fragments Indeterminate Plant Fragments Totals for Feature Complex Totals per 1 liter of soil in Feature Complex

198 0.071 0 0 0 1 1 0.012 1 0 0 0 0 0 1 0.012 0 0 1 8 0.094

0.051 0 3 0 0 3 0.005 1 0 0 0 0 0 1 0.002 2 3 3 39 0.071

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4 1 3 34 0.238

0 3 0 0 0 1 4 0.028

0 4 0 0 4 0.028

0.126

24 33 59 546 1.697

8 3 3 1 2 2 19 0.193

1 20 7 15 43 0.234

8.062

CHAPTER SEVEN SETTLEMENT AND ENVIRONMENT IN THE LATE COPPER AGE ALONG THE SOUTHERN SHORE OF LAKE BALATON IN HUNGARY SZILVIA FÁBIÁN AND GÁBOR SERLEGI

Introduction Lake Balaton, the largest natural lake in Central Europe (Figure 7-1) provides an outstanding research area for the study of environmental history. Harmonizing long-term environmental processes with archaeological events can further refine our picture of environmental changes. In addition, a finer reconstruction of the environment can help us understand the various processes observed in the archaeological record. The preventive excavations along the M7 highway on the southern shore of Lake Balaton yielded a large amount of data on these issues in western Hungary (Bondár et al. 2000; Honti et al. 2002, 2004, 2007). The immediate neighborhood of the lake provided an excellent area for human occupation throughout the prehistoric and historic periods. Along with the large size of the sites and the enormous amount of archaeological material, the most important factor is that the archaeological phenomena of the various periods can be studied in the same geomorphological setting, through which we can get a better understanding of the relationship between human culture and the constantly changing environment.

Lake Balaton In order to understand the geomorphological significance of the sites we must acquaint ourselves with Lake Balaton, the most important feature of the surrounding environment for human cultures during prehistory and early history. Lake Balaton today has an average water level of 600 km2,

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and its catchment area is 5200 km2 (Tullner and Cserny 2003: 216-218). The present extent and shoreline of the lake are the result of the regulation works finished in the second half of the nineteenth-century, during which time natural water levels were drastically lowered. In order to stabilize the new water level the Siófok floodgate and the Siófok Channel were built, through which the excess water of the lake could be drained into the Danube (Bendefy 1968; Bendefy and Nagy 1969; Harkay 1996: 8-9). The modern extent and shoreline of Lake Balaton, which differs from its natural state, formed as a result of these measures.

Figure 7-1. The elevation and flood map of Lake Balaton and its environment with the route of the M7 highway and its archaeological sites

It was important to secure the regular channeling of Lake Balaton, because its water level is determined by climatic factors, namely the amount of precipitation on the lake and its catchment area and the amount of water evaporating from the surface of the lake (Jakab et al. 2005: 407). During warm and dry periods, the amount of evaporating water is greater

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than the amount of precipitation on the lake and its catchment. Consequently, the water level starts to decrease. During colder and wetter periods, evaporation decreases and precipitation on the lake and its catchment increases, consequently the water level will rise. Today, superfluous water resulting from precipitation is channeled through the Siófok floodgate.

The natural state of the lake In its natural state the water level of the lake was determined exclusively by climatic factors, so before the nineteenth-century regulation significantly larger water level fluctuations are reported (Jakab et al. 2005: 407). We may add that the first instance of channeling the water towards the Danube is known from the Roman period1, which suggests that in the previous archaeological periods the lake might not have had a natural outflow, significantly increasing the impact of climatic factors. The reconstruction of the almost natural state was facilitated by an elevation and flood model based on satellite images and contour maps (Timár et al. 2003). From this, it can be observed that the shape of the lake in its natural state is considerably different, since the meridional valleys and the area of Nagyberek are flooded; they become the bays of the lake filled with open water (Figure 7-1). This would happen even at a water level only 0.5 m higher than the modern, artificially low, maximum water level (104.5 m asl; asl values here refer to sea level above the Baltic Sea). In this case, the extent of the lake would become 900 km2, one and onehalf times larger that today. To reach an extent twice as large as today, that is 1200 km2, would require another 5 m rise in the water level. A water level at 110 m asl, however, involves such a huge increase in water volume and quantity that this can happen only in longer cooler and wetter periods. According to the water-regime values of the lake (Szesztay 1959), the natural water level was fluctuating in this 5 m interval (105-110 m asl) during most of the Holocene, and its more permanent level could have been at 106-107 m asl (Sümegi et al. 2007: 250).

The determinant role of geomorphological characteristics The route of the M7 highway runs parallel to the modern lakeshore, a few kilometers away from the modern settlements on the shore. As the comparison of the results of the flood model and the present extent of the lake clearly shows, the modern shoreline is very different from the natural state, which had many more creeks and was much more complex.

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Consequently, the route, which is adjusted to the modern shoreline, crosscuts in many instances the meridional valleys, which had once been the natural bays of the lake (Figure 7-1). Despite the artificially regulated water level and regular draining, we still find swampy areas, so-called bereks (Tóközi-Berek, Szemesi-Berek, Ordai-Berek, Nagyberek), in these locations. From the point of view of geoarchaeological investigations, the most important sites are the ones located on the loess hillsides between the old bays (Figure 7-1). The water level and extent of the lake and its effects on the groundwater level determine the size of the areas suitable for human occupation on the loess plateaus and the ways of their economic exploitation.

The effect of Lake Balaton on human occupation For examination of the location of the settlements of various dates located on the loess plateaus, one of the most important factors is the lake level dependent groundwater. With the increase of the surface of the lake, groundwater level rises as well. We cannot expect lakeshore settlements along the southern shore of Lake Balaton, since these lakeshore areas became marshes due to the shallow water. On the loess plateaus between the bays, we can only expect settlements near the lake. This means that settlements on the hillsides near the lake were always located in areas that were not affected by short-term water level fluctuations. The people settling down here occupied places where their storage pits, semisubterranean houses and graves were not endangered by the changes of the groundwater level caused by seasonal lake level fluctuations; at the same time, wells and other sources of water need not have to be too deep to reach the groundwater. In other words, the settlements were located in those parts of the hillside that simultaneously satisfied both criteria. Furthermore, it could have been important that open water, both as a means of transport and as a source of food supply, was within easy distance. If a longer dry period occurs during the occupation of the settlement, the wells providing water could dry out due to the low groundwater level, and open water could move further away from the settlement. In the case of a continuously rising water level, storage pits could have been affected by groundwater, and the arable land and pasture around the settlement could have become waterlogged and unsuitable for exploitation. In both cases, we can expect a reaction from the human population to the environmental changes, which could have been a shift in

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the centre of the settlement or its complete abandonment depending on the extent of the changes. Consequently, the circumstances of occupation of the various archaeological cultures from various periods at the same site, in the same geomorphological environment, can shed light on the groundwater level and through that the water level of Lake Balaton and the climatic characteristics of the given period. The length of human occupation and the phases of the changes of settlement structure can be determined through the joint analysis of archaeological typology and radiocarbon dates from closed contexts, through which shorter changes within an archaeological culture can also be detected. Consequently, the general tendencies established through environmental and climatic research, which usually overarch more archaeological periods, in many cases can be divided into shorter phases as well. In this study, we attempt to refine the environmental and climatic data of the Late Copper Age through the analysis of archaeological data from the Late Copper Age phase of a multi-period site on the southern shore of Lake Balaton.

Balatonkeresztúr-Réti-dĦlĘ: archaeological occupation The site of Balatonkeresztúr-Réti-dĦlĘ is located 3 km from the southern shore of Lake Balaton, on the border of the Marcali ridge and the swampy Nagyberek (Figure 7-1). The Marcali ridge is part of the Somogy hill-country. Its surface is covered by layered loess, and its height above sea level is on average between 150 and 200 m (Marosi and Somogyi 1990: 528-529). Nagyberek is the largest natural bay of Lake Balaton, with average height above sea level one meter lower that the current lake level. The site stretches in a 100 m wide east-west oriented strip defined by the M7 highway on the eastern slope of the Marcali loess ridge, down to the edge of the marshy Nagyberek. The hillside slopes gently towards the east between 124 and 111 m asl, followed by a horizontal area at 111110 m asl. In the lower part of the slope, between 110 and 105 m asl, the slope is steeper until the edge of the marsh. In 2003 and 2004, 45,000 m2 were investigated, where we excavated and documented 2,976 archaeological features. Based on the material from these investigations we could identify the occupations of nine archaeological

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cultures of eight longer archaeological periods (Table 1) on the eastern slope of the hillside (Fábián 2004, 2007; Fábián and Serlegi 2007, Figure 2). The area was first occupied in the Middle Copper Age, by a group of the Balaton-Lasinja culture. Their remains are mainly concentrated on the western part of the site (an area between 122-113 m asl), but some features, including a well, were found in the lower part (109-107 asl) of the loess plateau. In the Late Copper Age, the group of the Baden culture appeared in the area. The core of the Baden settlement was located on the horizontal plateau (111 m asl) and east of it, reaching down the slope of the loess ridge to the edge of Nagyberek. Pits for storing foodstuffs and depositing rubbish were excavated at 107-106 m asl. Settlement features, pits and graves of Early Bronze Age SomogyvárVinkovci and Kisapostag cultures were concentrated in the western, higher (117-111 m asl) part of the excavated area. In the eastern part, only a few scattered features were found at 110 m asl; no settlement features were found below that. The settlement features of the Middle Bronze Age Incrusted Ware culture were found in the area of the Early Bronze Age settlements. Remains of the Late Iron Age, La Tène C-D Celtic settlement were found across most of the excavated area, and reached down to the edge of Nagyberek. In this period the higher part of the loess ridge (114 m asl) and the lower part (107-106 m asl) of the hillside were used with the same intensity. Eleven of the seventeen Celtic houses were built in an area below 110 m asl and were surrounded by ovens and storage pits. Many pits and postholes were excavated in an even lower area at 107-106 m asl. A group of characteristic, timber framed, semi-subterranean houses excavated in the eastern part of the site, and the material of a few storage pits and a well hardly deeper than 2 m and lined with a Roman tegula can be connected to the Germanic Langobards who settled here in the 6th century AD. Their buildings and the well became known in a lower part (110-106 m asl) of the loess ridge as well. A ditch probably encircling this settlement and a few pits with sixth-century material were located in an area at 107-106 m asl.

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In the higher areas, between 116 and 110 m asl, the scattered, but continuous remains of a medieval Árpád Period village were recovered. The core of the settlement was confined to an area 115-113 m asl. Many pits, postholes, two semi-subterranean structures, three ovens and the remains of a well, along with a group of five inhumations in a stretched position from the 10th-11th centuries, belong to this period. Table 7-1. The altitude of the settlements of the various archaeological periods excavated at Balatonkeresztúr-Réti-dĦlĘ. Number Elevation Archaeological Character of features of asl period features Balaton-Lasinja 21 pits of various size, well 122-113 m culture (Middle Copper Age) Pits of various size, Baden culture 257 ovens, graves, sacrificial 112-106 m (Late Copper Age) pits Somogyvár-Vinkovci 75 pits of various size 117-112 m culture (Early Bronze Age) pits of various size, Kisapostagi culture 117-110 m 97 semi-subterranean (Early Bronze Age) houses, graves Incrusted Ware culture (Middle Bronze Age)

12

Celtic (La Tène C-D) (Late Iron Age)

415

Langobard (Migration Period)

45

Árpád Period (Early Middle Age)

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Late Middle Age

1532

pits of various size pits of various size, semi-subterranean houses, ovens, well, post holes pits of various size, well, semi-subterranean houses, post holes pits of various size, well, semi-subterranean houses, post holes pits of various size, ovens, ditches, houses, post holes

117-110 m

114-106 m

110-106 m 116-110 m 114-110 m

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Much like the Árpád Period occupation, only the higher parts of the ridge were settled in the Late Middle Ages. The core of the 13th-15th century village was on the horizontal plateau. Many timber-framed houses, semi-subterranean auxiliary buildings, remains of a corral, pits, ovens and a number of timber-framed wells could be excavated. Late medieval occupation concentrated to an area smaller than that of the Árpád Period settlement and was rather dense. The inhabitants of the village obviously made use of all the space available for them. This is significant, since on the eastern slope of the loess ridge, areas below 110 m asl were not occupied at all. Thanks to the large, continuous excavated area, the impact of the topographic characteristics of the site on human occupation in the various archaeological periods was easy to observe. The higher areas of the ridge and the horizontal plateau were a preferred area in every period, as shown by the frequent overlap of the excavated features here. East from here and in the area in the western part the density of features is lower, and the exploitation of the area in the various periods is obviously different. Among the various periods represented at the site, the Late Copper Age has to this point been studied most thoroughly.

The evaluation of the Late Copper Age pottery from the site Based on the methods of classical archaeological typology we determined the subsequent phases of the Baden occupation at the horizontal site. During the archaeological analysis of Baden pottery, we used the criteria of an internationally accepted typological system. The first such system for the Baden culture was created by Evžen Neustupný, in which he divided the culture into five phases labeled A-E (Neustupný 1959, 1973). The most detailed typological system was worked out by Viera NƟmejcová-Pavúková, who studied the typology, the internal chronological phases and wider connections of the culture in numerous works (NƟmejcová-Pavúková 1964, 1979, 1981, 1984, 1991, 1998). In her studies NƟmejcová-Pavúková divided the Baden culture into four developmental phases (I-IV), where Baden I is identical to the Boleráz group, II and III denote the Early Classic, and IV the Late Classic phase. Furthermore, she worked out the details of the phases Ia-b-c, IIa-b and III as well. In the Hungarian material, István Torma identified the remains of the early phase based on NƟmejcová-Pavúková (Torma 1969, 1973: 483495), but he assigned phase IIa to the Boleráz group (Torma 1977: 55-56),

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which has by now become generally accepted (Ruttkay 1995; NƟmejcováPavúková 1998). The further refinement of the phases Baden III-IV became possible through the analysis of new materials (Bondár 1982; Toþík 1987; Mayer 1990; EndrĘdi 1997), while the Proto-Boleráz phase, denoting the beginning of the Late Copper Age, was identified by Nándor Kalicz (Kalicz 1991, 2001). This is basically identical to NƟmejcová-Pavúková’s Baden Ia. Today research differentiates between three subphases within the Boleráz period (Baden Ib-Ic-IIa). Classic Baden is also divided into three stages, where the phases are characterized by the pottery of certain sites: ýervený Hrádok (Baden IIb), Ossarn I (Baden III), and Ossarn II (Baden IVa). Within the Classic Baden phase Baden, IIb-III denotes the Early Classic, while Baden IV is the Late Classic Baden culture. The assignment of the ceramic material from Balatonkeresztes-RétidĦlĘ to such detailed subphases as sketched above was not possible, since the analogies of the material from the individual pits were in many cases connected to other, adjacent but distinct phases (e.g. Ib-Ic-IIa, IIb-III, IIIIV). Consequently, based on the typo-chronological analysis of the ceramic material, only three major phases of the Baden occupation could be identified with certainty. The ceramic material of these three phases, however, provide a coherent developmental sequence, thus the groups of features distinguished through them temporally follow each other within the horizontal site. The following groupings can be discerned within the chronological phases. The life of the settlement starts with the Boleráz phase, which, based on the ceramic typology, includes the phases Baden Ib-Ic-IIa. This occupation is followed by a distinctive Baden settlement horizon, which can be divided into an Early Classic (IIb-IIIa) and Late Classic (IIIb-IVa) Baden phase. These settlement horizons are distinguished by the following ceramic typological characteristics.

Vessel shapes and decorative motifs of the Boleráz phase at Balatonkeresztúr Among the sherds of the Boleráz group carinated conical bowls with funnel shaped neck are represented in large numbers. Sometimes the inner side of their rims or their entire internal surface is covered by various channeled motifs (Figure 7-2. 1). Their carination might carry knobs, the

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conical body of the bowl occasionally has a roughened surface and in some cases the rims are smoothed. In the Boleráz period, biconical bowls with rounded shoulder and slightly swollen, incurving rim are fairly frequent. They appear in both decorated and undecorated versions in the material. Jars and storing vessels with slightly outwards curving rim with a plastic, finger-impressed cordon underneath is also a common shape, although the version with multiple cordons below the rim (Figure 7-2. 3) is characteristic only for the Boleráz phase. The surface of the body of the vessels is usually roughened or decorated by incised herringbone pattern. Small handles can be placed on the rim, the neck or the upper third of the vessel. Jugs have arching conical necks and globular, sometimes rounded biconical, bodies, while cups are characterized by a globular body and a very short, out-curving neck. Their handles start from the rim and are supported by the shoulder of the vessel, their cross-section is more oval than flat. The belly of both shapes is mostly decorated by vertical or oblique, sometimes zigzag, channeling, but there are undecorated examples as well (Figure 7-2. 4-5). Subcutaneous handles with vertical perforation are common on jugs. Amphora type vessels are characterized by multiple cordons on the shoulder, the incised herringbone pattern on the body of the vessel, plastic knobs and roughened surface (Figure 7-2. 2). As the most characteristic decorative motifs of the Boleráz group, we can mention the multiple (2-3) finger-impressed cordons, the incised herringbone pattern and the channeled surface on the inside of the vessels (NƟmejcová-Pavúková 1981: 263, 266; 1984: 110-132; 1991: 70-82; 1998: 386-388; Ruttkay 1995: 145-150).

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Figure 7-2. The main pottery shapes of the phases of the Late Copper Age Baden culture at Balatonkeresztúr-Réti-dĦlĘ

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Vessel shapes and decorative motifs of the Early Classic phase of the Baden period at Balatonkeresztúr The early phase of the Classic Baden period (Baden IIb-IIIa) is characterized by the survival of shapes used already in the Boleráz period. Typological development can be observed in the minor changes of certain shapes and decorative motifs. The internal channeling of conical bowls is still present, but becomes less frequent, and is mostly confined to the inside of the rim. The number of finger-impressed cordons on jars, amphorae and storing vessels is reduced to two or one (Figure 7-2. 9). The incised herringbone pattern is not characteristic any more, nor is decoration of the entire vessel surface. Instead, incised hanging triangles, checker pattern and rows of impressed dots make their appearance on bowls (Figure 7-2. 6) and amphora type vessels. Characteristic shapes of the phase include cups and jugs with pointed rim (Figure 7-2. 10) and jugs with longer and more cylindrical neck and more pressed bodies (Figure 7-2. 7). The neck of cups is also longer, and the pressed body is usually decorated by vertical channeling. Their handles are pulled slightly above the rim and are often grooved as well (Figure 72. 8, 11) (EndrĘdi 1997; Mayer 1990, 1995: 161-177; NƟmejcováPavúková 1981: 267-269; 1991: 70-82; 1998: 389-390).

Vessel shapes and decorative motifs of the Late Classic phase of the Baden period at Balatonkeresztúr In the late phase of the Baden culture (Baden IIIb-IVa), the already familiar shapes remain in fashion, but display distinct formal differences compared to the previous phase. Cups with pressed globular body have long handles pulled above the rim. Jugs now have long, cylindrical necks and pressed globular bodies that have their largest diameter in the lower third, and are covered with vertical channeling. Their handles are wide, pulled above the rim and sometimes decorated with a row of impressed dots. Bowls with funnel shaped necks and out-curving rims are deeper, and the carination on their shoulder is often rounded (Figure 7-2. 12). They are decorated with rows of impressed dots not only on the shoulder, but

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under the rim as well. This can be observed on jugs as well in this late phase (Figure 7-2. 13). In phase III a new form makes its appearance: the bowl with internal division. It is often decorated with incised checker pattern, rows of impressed dots or hatched triangles (Figure 7-2. 14). At the end of phase III and in phase IVa the so-called dippers appear, either with a pointed base and a conical body, or with a slightly convex base, slightly arching cylindrical body and out-curving rim. Both versions have wide handles pulled high above the rim that start from either the bottom or the midline of the vessel, and end on the rim (Figure 7-2. 16-17). The shape of jars and storage vessels changed very little during the span of the Baden culture, but decorative elements did change. During the later phase, only a single finger-impressed cordon or a row of impressed dots under the rim is typical (Figure 7-2. 15) (EndrĘdi 1997; Mayer 1990; NƟmejcová-Pavúková 1991: 70-82, 1998: 390-391; Toþík 1987).

Dating the Late Copper Age settlement with radiocarbon At present, we have seven AMS dates from Late Copper Age contexts from the site. The measurements were taken at the Vienna Environmental Research Accelerator (VERA), on samples from animal and human bones. Sampling was carried out after the analysis of the archaeological material and its typo-chronological evaluation, from significant features of the typologically distinct phases of the Baden culture2. The results of radiocarbon dating confirmed in all aspects the archaeological dating of the settlement and determined its absolute chronological position (Table 7-2). Based on the calibrated dates we can say that the life of the settlement started in the Boleráz phase of the Baden culture (Baden Ib-Ic-IIa), dated to 3510-3360 cal BC (5460-5310 cal BP). The date of the classic phase of the Baden culture according to the absolute dates from the settlement of Balatonkeresztúr is 3360-2920 cal BC (5310-4870 cal BP). Based on the ceramic typology we managed to divide the classic phase into an Early Classic (Baden IIb-IIIa) and a Late Classic (Baden IIIb-IVa) subphase, which is completely supported by the radiocarbon dates as well. Accordingly, the early subphase of the classic Baden period is dated to 3360-3110 cal BC (5310-5060 cal BP), and the late subphase to 3090-2920 cal BC (5040-4780 cal BP) (Figure 7-3). The boundary between the two large chronological periods of the settlement of

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Balatonkeresztúr coincides with the break attested throughout the area of the culture (Stadler et al. 2001; Wild et al. 2001). When examining the absolute chronology of the Baden culture, the analysis of 61 radiocarbon dates was carried out (Stadler et al. 2001). Twenty-six of the samples belonged to the Boleráz phase, 35 to the classic phase, and the selection of the samples was also based on the results of typo-chronological studies. The results revealed that the temporal border between the two large chronological phases dates to 3370 cal BC (5320 cal BP) according to the dates from numerous central European sites, confirming the results at Balatonkeresztúr.

Lab. No. VERA4221 VERA4222 VERA4223 VERA4226 VERA4227 VERA4228 VERA4229

Table 7-2. Late Copper Age radiocarbon dates from Balatonkeresztúr-Réti-dĦlĘ. stand ard devia cal BC cal BP Feature BP Sample No. tion (68,2%) (68,2%) No. date Balatonkere B464 35005450sztúr_01 1829 5 35 3360 5310 Balatonkere 466 35205470sztúr_02 B-608 5 35 3370 5320 Balatonkere B465 35105460sztúr_03 2323 5 35 3360 5310 Balatonkere B454 33705320sztúr_06 1669 5 3120 5070 30 Balatonkere 451 33505300sztúr_07 S-34 5 35 3110 5060 Balatonkere B438 30805030sztúr_08 2557 5 30 2920 4870 Balatonkere B440 30905040sztúr_09 1650 5 2930 4880 25

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Figure 7-3. Calibrated Late Copper Age radiocarbon dates of from Balatonkeresztúr-Réti-dĦlĘ.

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The geomorphological analysis of the location of the Late Copper Age features During the geomorphological study of the settlement features connected to the large phases of the Baden culture at the Balatonkeresztúr site, we noticed an interesting pattern. Based on the site map we could observe that in the earlier Boleráz phase the pits of the settlement showed a loose, scattered distribution in areas of the loess ridge between 106.5 and 112 m asl. In this phase, the lower areas of the hillside, closer to the edge of the marshy Nagyberek, were also in use. Between 106.5 m and 108 m asl we excavated storage pits containing ceramic sherds, animal bones, grinding stones, flint tools, stone axes and spindle-whorls. This suggests that this area of the settlement had been used intensively. The settlement features of the Early and Late Classic Baden phases, however, concentrated in a much smaller area, the core of which was located on the plateau between 110111 m asl. From this period we could identify features only in the area of the hillside above 109 m asl. Consequently, the lowest parts of the loess ridge were obviously not occupied. In the Late Classic phase, the shrinking of the occupied area is even more apparent, and it is much smaller than in the previous phase. Thus, we see a shift of settlement from the classic phase of the Baden culture towards the higher areas of the hillside (Figure 7-4). These shifts in the use of the area may suggest that the impacts of an earlier environmental and climatic change manifested in the classic phase of the culture. If in the period under study the climate became cooler and wetter, the water level of Lake Balaton could have risen permanently. Consequently, the soil characteristics of the hillside changed as well, which had an effect on the structure of the settlement. Due to the rising groundwater level the lowest pits of the settlement could have become waterlogged, so the settlement shifted to a higher area on the hillside.

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Figure 7-4. The spatial distribution of features of the Boleráz and classic phase of the Baden culture at Balatonkeresztúr-Réti-dĦlĘ.

The evaluation of the faunal remains of the settlement If the shift of the settlement structure was indeed caused by climatic changes, these must have left traces in the archaeological material as well. One of the indicators of climatic and environmental changes can be the changes of the economy, especially the composition of the animal stock, of the culture (Bökönyi 1974: 88-93). The environment around the settlement largely determines the composition of the exploited animal stock, which should be reflected in the statistical analysis of the faunal remains from the rubbish pits3. Starting from this premise we examined the faunal remains from the pits belonging to the various phases differentiated on typological grounds. The statistical analysis was carried out in three ways: we carried out an analysis both for the Boleráz phase (Figure 7-5. 1) and the whole classic Baden phase (Figure 7-5. 2). It is clear from the diagrams that in the earlier phase sheep and goat, which prefer a dryer climate, are the dominant species. In the later phase, however, the dominance of small ungulates is replaced by that of cattle. The picture becomes more refined if we carry out an analysis of the two subphases of the classic period as well. On these diagrams, one can clearly

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observe that as opposed to dominance of small ungulates in the early Boleráz phase, in the first half of the classic phase the emphasis was on cattle breeding, while the ratio of swine remains the same (Figure 7-5. 3). In the later subphase of the classic phase of the Baden culture, however, the breeding of swine, a species preferring a cooler climate and swampy environment, becomes dominant, while the ratio of cattle decreases and that of small ungulates does not change (Figure 7-5. 4). This picture reflects a clear shift from the dominance of xeric species to that of hydric ones. We examined separately the sacrificial pits of the settlement in which complete skeletons had been deposited4. Such features were found only in the Late Classic subphase at the site. Their statistical analysis was carried out separately, and the results can further refine our picture. It is obvious that in the cultic life of the later subphase swine played a significant role, since its ratio in the sacrificial pits is extremely high, above 60 percent (Figure 7-5. 5). We cannot ignore the fact that by the late phase, swine becomes dominant in the economy of the settlement, which may reflect some environmental changes. Climatic changes that might have caused the changes in the composition of the animal stock are confirmed by the most recent pollen analyses from the Balaton basin. Compared to the intensive human activity in forest cleaning in the previous period, the Late Copper Age shows signs of reforestation due to a changing climate (Juhász 2007a: 46, 2007b: 62). The decreasing significance of farming was accompanied by an increase in the dominance of animal breeding. Light-loving arboreal species appeared in the earlier fields, and these areas were used as pasture (Juhász 2007b: 62). As a consequence of the continuous regrowth of forests, supplying fodder for cattle could have become more difficult, which may have contributed to the increase in the ratio of swine, which are easier to keep under more forested conditions (Schibler and Jacomet 1999).

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Figure 7-5. The ratio of species in the faunal material of the Boleráz, Early and Late Classic phases of the Baden culture, and in the sacrificial pits of the Late Classic phase at Balatonkeresztúr-Réti-dĦlĘ.

Changes in the ratio of domestic and wild species in the rubbish pits of the settlement are also evident: the ratio of the latter increases gradually towards the later phases of the Baden culture (Figure 75. 1, 3, 4). Most likely, the importance of hunting increased due to climatic deterioration (Schibler 2004: 148). The coincidence of the statistical growth of hunted animals, the changes of the composition of domestic species, and the shifts of the settlement structure at the border between the two large phases as defined by ceramic typology indicate a long-term climatic change, probably towards a cooler and more certainly wetter climate. The identity of the radiocarbon dates from Balatonkeresztúr and the whole distribution area of the culture determine the absolute date of the change. Thus, we can ask if there is any evidence for a climatic change around 3360 cal BC (5310 cal BP). In order to answer this question, we have to compare the results of climate research pertaining to the given period in the Carpathian Basin with those in various other regions of Europe, the Northern Hemisphere,

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and of the geoarchaeological research on other contemporary archaeological cultures.

Research on the environmental and climatic history of Lake Balaton According to the Blytt-Sernander Holocene climate division in the Northern Hemisphere, the Late Copper Age of the Carpathian Basin falls on the border between the Atlantic and Subboreal palynological chronozones. Early research on the general climatic history of Hungary – based mainly on the results of palynology – assumed that the Atlantic chronozone was a warm and wet period, followed by a cooling in the Subboreal chronozone, ending the so-called climatic optimum (JárainéKomlódi 1969). The palynological results of the last few decades, however, have shown that we should expect a smaller climatic oscillation at the border between the two palynological chronozones (Horváth 2004 with further references). Research on Lake Balaton and its narrow environment has mostly focused on the formation and development of the lake. Studies were based on the sedimentological analysis of the coring samples taken from the lake bed and on the palynological analysis of the surrounding swamps. The significance of their results is that they synchronized the development of Lake Balaton, its climatically driven changes and vegetation history with the general climatic history of the Carpathian Basin. The chronological resolution of these results, however, remained within the traditional postglacial divisions. The results concerning these millennia-long periods suggest that during the Atlantic palynological chronozone we have to expect lower water levels, followed by a general rise in water levels during the Subboreal chronozone (Nagy-Bodor and Cserny 1997, 1998a, 1998b; Tullner and Cserny 2003; Szántó and Medzihradszky 2004; Medzihradszky 2005). These results, however, cannot shed any light on shorter climatic oscillations that lasted for a few decades or centuries. During the past few years, a number of investigations were carried out on regional climatic history in Hungary. The results of the study of geological samples from catchment basins were compared with the data of regional surveys according to periods (Gál et al. 2005; Zatykó et al. 2007). The archaeological data come partly from excavations and partly from museum archives. The archaeological chronology is based on the typology of the finds, and can be compared with the radiocarbon dates of the core

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samples only with reservations. Consequently, the detail of this research does not reach a resolution larger than the 400-500 years of the internal divisions of longer archaeological periods (e.g. early, middle, and late). The coring samples that formed the basis of the regional geoarchaeological study of Transdanubia were taken from numerous points in the region (Zatykó et al. 2007). Based on the concerted palynological, sedimentological, malacological and macrofossil studies it became clear that in the Late Copper Age, in the transitional phase between the Atlantic and Subboreal palynological chronozones, climate became wetter. The changes of the quantity of pollens of plants indicating anthropogenic impact also confirm the increasing importance of animal breeding (Juhász 2007a: 49, 2007b: 62; Jakab 2007: 66). The concerted study of the archaeological features of sites on the loess hillsides and the edges of the bays of Lake Balaton and the coring samples taken in their immediate vicinity can help narrow down the time-span of these changes. We carried out sampling in Nagyberek, in the immediate environment of the Balatonkeresztúr site. The analysis of these two undisturbed samples is still in progress, and at the moment we do not have results, which we anticipate will be significant. Due to current lack of such results, we have to turn to areas beyond the Carpathian Basin to be able to explain the phenomena observed at the Balatonkeresztúr site. We need research results that took into consideration both the stratigraphic analysis of archaeological sites and the environmental data. Among the archaeological cultures of the period under study, research on the Late Neolithic Alpine lake dwellings has the most such data at its disposal. In this period, phenomena indicating abandonment due to climatic changes have been observed a number of times (Menotti 2004). We should ask, however, if we can compare the climatic processes in the Alps to climatic changes in Transdanubia.

The study of the effects of Holocene climatic oscillations In order to establish the possible correlation between the climatic changes in the area of the Alpine lakes and the Carpathian Basin, we have to go back in time, before the period under study here, and have to expand our study area to the whole Northern Hemisphere. Research on the Holocene climate of the Northern Hemisphere has already established the existence of two general, high amplitude cold events around 10,700-

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10,300 cal BP and 8400-8000 cal BP (Heiri et al. 2004). The analyses of the proxy records of the Greenland ice-cores, the residual radiocarbon curve (Bond et al. 2001) and the oxygen isotope record (Stuiver et al. 1997) has confirmed these two cooling events. The analyses have shown that the cooling events have a close correlation with the increase of meltwater from the North American continental ice cover in the northern part of the Atlantic Ocean (Heiri et al. 2004). Due to this meltwater outburst, the salinity of the water of the ocean decreases, consequently the thermohaline cycle slows down, causing a significant decrease in temperature and a shift of the zone of the Atlantic Westerly Jet in the Northern Hemisphere (Renssen et al. 2001; Magny 2004b: 140-141). During the analysis of the coring samples of Lake Annecy in France within the framework of the research on the water level changes of the Alpine lakes, scholars detected a phenomenon connected to the cold event around 8200 cal BP (Magny et al. 2003). According to the modeling of the lake level changes, the water level rose significantly twice during this period as a consequence of cooler and wetter climate. The comparison of the results with the tendencies of lake level changes of other northern, southern and central European lakes in the same period had significant results. While central European lakes always showed a significant rise in the water level in this general cooling period, north and south European lakes went through opposite changes. This was caused by climatic changes affecting the whole Northern Hemisphere. The differences are caused by increased cyclonic activity induced by the southerly shift of the dominant Atlantic Westerly Jet in the Northern Hemisphere due to the slower thermohaline cycle. As a result, in the zone of mid-latitudes between 5345 Nº precipitation increases in the cooling period, while in the areas north and south of this zone cooling is accompanied by a dry period. This mechanism can be observed during lower amplitude cooling periods as well (Magny et al. 2003). Lake Balaton is located at the latitude 47-46 Nº, which is within the above-mentioned zone. Consequently, it is probable that the general climatic processes described above had an impact on our area as well. The 275-280 cm deep section of the geological sample taken on the northern shore of Lake Balaton at Balatonederics, on the shore of the Szigliget Bay, is dated through radiocarbon to the period 8400-8300 cal BP (Szántó et al. 2007). The period coincides with the date of the high water level of Lake Annecy. The macrofossil and palynological analyses of this layer at Balatonederics also unequivocally confirm the high water

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level of the lake in the given period (Juhász 2007b: 60; Jakab 2007: 65). The analysis of the contemporary layers of coring samples from the area of Kis-Balaton yielded the same results (Juhász 2007a: 45). Thus, it could be observed that the increased rainfall caused by general significant cold events had approximately the same regional effects on Lake Balaton as on Alpine lakes. As mentioned above, the impact of cold events identified in the Northern Hemisphere can be observed during smaller amplitude climatic oscillations as well (Magny et al. 2003). In the past decades, the sedimentological and limnological analysis of 150 radiocarbon dated geological samples from 26 Alpine lakes has been carried out (Magny 2004a: 65-79). The analyses have shown that during the Holocene there were shorter and longer cyclical fluctuations in the water level of these lakes. These cycles can be connected to the proxy records indicating general climatic changes in the Northern Hemisphere, that is, the water level fluctuations of the Alpine lakes are synchronous with general climatic trends. The comparative analyses demonstrated that during general cool periods in mid-latitude zones the southerly shift of the Atlantic Westerly Jet caused an increase in annual rainfall. At the same time, evaporation decreased as well due to lower temperatures, resulting in the rise of the water level of the lakes. According to the combined data, 15 high lake level (HLL) episodes of varying intensity can be identified during the Holocene. Among these high lake level periods, during the socalled HLL Episode 9 the maximum water level can be dated to 53005200 cal BP based on radiocarbon and dendrochronological dates (Magny 2004a: 74). This cooling period can be identified in the proxy data of the Greenland ice-cores as well, and its date is identical to the radiocarbon date of the chronological border between the two large phases observed at both the Late Copper Age settlement of Balatonkeresztúr and the whole area of the Baden culture. It would, however, be erroneous to simple equate the two areas based on prehistoric processes and the observed changes. We have to keep in mind that the Alpine lakes and Lake Balaton are located in different geological environments, geomorphological settings and natural environments. Their height above sea level is also different, as are their sizes and the size of their catchment areas. There are significant differences between average annual precipitation and its annual distribution, the amount of inflow, the annual average temperature and the intensity of evaporation that is determined by it in the two regions.

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Furthermore, we have to mention the climatic mosaic of the Carpathian Basin, since three large adjacent climatic zones (Cf, BS, Df) meet in the area. Beside these climatic zones, oceanic, continental and subMediterranean climatic effects of varying intensity can also occur, causing shifts in the borders of the climatic zones (Sümegi 2004; Sümegi and Kertész 2001; Sümegi et al. 1998). Similarly to the Alpine lakes, Transdanubia and Lake Balaton are located in the temperate oceanic climate zone (Cf), explaining the simultaneous effect of the general climatic processes of the Northern Hemisphere in both areas. In the Carpathian Basin, however, continental and sub-Mediterranean effects can influence regional climatic factors. In Transdanubia, increasing annual rainfall and the decreasing intensity of evapotranspiration during cold events can be traced back to a weaker continental and stronger oceanic climatic impact.

Archaeological and geoarchaeological parallels Beside climatic similarities, we have to pay attention to reconstructed geoarchaeological analogies. The starting point of this study was the observed shifts of Late Copper Age settlement structure on the southern shore of Lake Balaton and their possible connection to climatic changes. Based on the climatic similarities, but keeping in mind the abovementioned differences, we can examine what we know of archaeological phenomena similar to those observed on the southern shore of Lake Balaton in the research on contemporary settlements of the Alpine lakes. One of the most important and geoarchaeologically best studied site of the Alps is the Late Neolithic settlement of Arbon Bleiche 3 on Lake Constance. The existence of the settlement is firmly dated by the dendrochronological evaluation of the timber structures of the settlement (de Capitani and Leuzinger 1998). Accordingly, the fairly short life-span of the settlement can be dated to 3384-3370 BC [5334-5320 cal BP (Magny and Haas 2004)], when due to the low water level of Lake Constance, the area was suitable for human occupation. According to the sedimentological analysis of the lake, there is a sandy lake deposit layer above the anthropogenic organic deposit of the settlement, which formed during a higher lake level period. The radiocarbon date from the layer places its formation to 3630-3370 cal BC (5580-5320 cal BP). The large interval of the radiocarbon date is caused by the uncertainties of the calibration curve. However, from the stratigraphy of the layers and the dendrochronological dates it is obvious that this flood layer was formed

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around 3370 cal BC (5320 cal BP), and assumes a rapid rise in the lake level which caused the village to be abandoned (Magny and Haas 2004). The date is beyond doubt the same as the chronological boundary between the two large phases of the Baden culture. According to the analysis of the ceramic material from Arbon Bleiche 3, the site can be dated to the transition between the late Pfyn and early Horgen cultures (Leuzinger 2000; de Capitani et al. 2002). Beside the well-known pottery shapes of the transitional period of the Late Neolithic cultures of the Alpine region, another characteristic, but typologically completely distinct, group of pottery was found at the settlement as well. The closest parallels of this group of pottery can be found in eastern Austria, Moravia, southwest Slovakia and western Hungary, from the core distribution area of the Boleráz group of the Baden culture. These typical pieces can be found in the ceramic spectrum of the Baden sites excavated along the southern shore of Lake Balaton as well. They include amphora type jars with smoothed neck, a triple row of impressed dots or cordons on the shoulder, incised herringbone pattern underneath and sometimes knobs (de Capitani and Leuzinger 1998, Taf.2: 5, 6; de Capitani et al. 2002, Abb. 361: 5 and 7, 362: 5); cups with channeling on their belly and a handle starting from the rim and ending on the shoulder (de Capitani and Leuzinger 1998, Abb.7; de Capitani et al. 2002, Abb. 361: 1 and 11). These types can all be found in the ceramic material of the Boleráz phase at Balatonkeresztúr as well (Figure 7-2. 2, 4). We have to emphasize that according to the generally accepted and above described ceramic typology of the culture, these vessel forms and decorative motifs are known exclusively from the Boleráz phase. Ceramic types connected to the later, classic Baden phase are not known from Arbon Bleiche 3.

Summary We can establish that the general climatic changes of the Northern Hemisphere had a similar impact, mainly an increase in precipitation and a decrease in the intensity of evaporation, in both the Alpine areas and Transdanubia. It is evident that high amplitude postglacial climatic changes in the Northern Hemisphere can be detected with geological methods in the area of Lake Balaton as well as in other regions. The analysis of the archaeological sites of both regions revealed environmental changes due to smaller amplitude climatic processes and their impact on human settlement. The chronology of the settlements, as refined by radiocarbon and dendrochronological dating, the changes of settlement

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structure observed in this period, and the similarities of the ceramic sequences allow us to draw parallels between the two areas. Obviously, alongside the similarities we have to note the differences. In the period 5300-5200 cal BP, a lake sediment layer formed above the anthropogenic organic deposit of Arbon Bleiche 3, suggesting that the lake flooded the whole area of the previous settlement. This part of the lakeshore became unsuitable for human occupation. On the southern shore of Lake Balaton, however, the contemporary Late Copper Age settlements were not abandoned. The rise of the water level due to increased rainfall and decreased evaporation caused only a shift in the structure of the settlements (Figure 7-4). One possible reason for this is that due to the different geographic and geological characteristics mentioned above and the climatic mosaic of the Carpathian Basin, Lake Balaton reacts more slowly and with smaller amplitude to climatic changes. Another reason is that the most significant factor of the geomorphological location of the lakeside settlement of Lake Balaton is not the extent of the open water surface, but the groundwater level, which follows the changes of the lake level only with some lag and is reduced by the geological layers of the loess ridges on the shore. The results obtained at the Late Copper Age settlement of Balatonkeresztúr demonstrate that through the combination of archaeological, geological and climate research, smaller amplitude changes can be documented in the Carpathian Basin. Based on the above it is also evident that due to regional characteristics the study of the correlations between climatic processes, environmental changes and cultural reactions requires an even more complex approach than in the case of the Alpine lakes. For example, one could think of the modeling of changes in groundwater levels. A great advantage, however, is that from the sites along the route of the highway we have archaeological data from lakeshore settlements spanning the entire period from the Middle Neolithic to the Late Middle Ages. The systematic and interdisciplinary study of these periods can lead to high-resolution climatic reconstructions and can provide a large amount of geoarchaeological information that also takes into consideration regional characteristics.

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Endnotes 1

Sextus Aurelius Victor, Liber de Caesaribus, 40.9. The calibrated one sigma values of the uncal BP dates are given both in cal BC and cal BP in order to ensure their comparability with calibrated dates used both in archaeology and paleoenvironmental research. 3 The archaeozoological study of the faunal remains from Balatonkeresztúr-RétidĦlĘ was carried out by Márta Daróczi-Szabó (Department of Archaeological Sciences, Eötvös Loránd University, Budapest). 4 The ratio of species can be significantly distorted by the number of bones belonging to complete animal skeletons; consequently the sacrificial pits containing full skeletons were handled separately. 2

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Szesztay, K. 1959. Tavak és tározómedencék vízháztartási jelleggörbéi. Földrajzi ÉrtesítĘ 8(2): 191-199. Timár, G., T. Telbisz and B. Székely, 2003. ĥrtechnológia a digitális domborzati modellezésben – az SRTM-adatbázis. Geodézia és Kartográfia 55 /12: 11-15. Toþík, A. 1987. Beitrag zur Frage der befestigten und Höhensiedlungen im mittleren und späten Äneolithikum in der Slowakei. Študijné Zvesti AUSAV 23: 5-26. Torma, I. 1969. Adatok a badeni kultúra (péceli) bolerázi csoportjának magyarországi elterjedéséhez. – Beitrage zur Verbreitung der BolerázGruppe der Badener Kultur in Ungarn. Veszprém Megyei Múzeumok Közleményei 8: 91-108. —. 1973. Die Boleráz- Gruppe in Ungarn. In B. Chropovsky (ed.), Symposium über die Entstehung und Chronologie der Badener Kultur, pp. 483-512. Bratislava: Verlag der Slowakischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. —. 1977. Rézkori telep Páriban. – Kupferzeitliche Siedlung von Pari. Béri Balogh Ádám Múzeum Évkönyve 6-7: 29-59. Tullner, T. and T. Cserny, 2003. New aspects of lake-level changes: Lake Balaton, Hungary. Acta Geologica Hungarica 46(2): 215-238. Wild, E. M., P. Stadler, M. Bondár, S. Draxler, H. Friesinger, W. Kutschera, A. Priller, W. Rom, E. Ruttkay and P. Steier, 2001. New chronological frame for the young Neolithic Baden culture in Central Europe (4th millennium BC). Radiocarbon 43/2B: 1057-1064. Zatykó, Cs., I. Juhász and P. Sümegi (eds.), 2007. Environmental archaeology in Transdanubia. Varia Archaeologica Hungarica 20. Budapest: Publicationes Instituti Archaeologici Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae.

SOUTHWEST EUROPE

CHAPTER EIGHT COSMOLOGICAL BONDS AND SETTLEMENT AGGREGATION PROCESSES DURING LATE NEOLITHIC AND COPPER AGE IN SOUTH PORTUGAL ANTÓNIO CARLOS VALERA

Theoretical options and their epistemological grounds are based on internal criteria, such as coherency, potentiality, performance or conceptual framework, but also on external factors usually not discursively formalized, like ethical, ideological, institutional and psychological commitments. Theory is never neutral and its diversified commitments tend to generate particular and contradictory forms of relationship with the object of analysis, sometimes incompatible in terms. In this paper, as an alternative to traditional materialistic and functionalist approaches, I intend to outline the possibilities of cognitive approach in the interpretation of enclosure architectures and to settlement aggregation processes during the late Neolithic and Chalcolithic in Southwest Iberia. More than a focus on economic processes, social categorization or political organization, I will try to stress the importance of world vision and modes of thinking in the attempt of understanding some sites and their territorial organization. I will start, though, with the main steps of the materialist / functionalist discourse: a trip from local autarchy to “South unity” under a core/periphery dependency model.

Settlement, scale and ideology: a phase of “materialistic coercion” The approach to Copper Age settlements networks, as in any other matter, must deal with the relation between the issue and its specific scale of analysis. The need for an adjustment between problem and scale is

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central to establish the coherence of explicative and interpretative models that structure our knowledge of past social patterns of settlement. Every phenomenon has its temporal and spatial dimensions. The inadequacy of the scale of analysis introduces quantitative and qualitative transformations and tends to deform the object of research. And this was a major problem in the first attempt to modeling the Copper Age settlement patterns of South Portugal. Carlos Tavares da Silva and Joaquina Soares (1976-77) developed this first attempt during the 1970s. The approach undertaken was based on localism and on a materialistic theoretical background. The emergence of Chalcolithic societies was seen as the consequence of labor development and production intensification, framed by a Secondary Product Revolution dynamic. This social-economic development would support segmented political structures, characterized by autonomous communities that were basically equalitarian and organized at a local scale. Localism was seen as a reinforcement of social relations based on sedentary residence and in territorial contraction, generating a social, economic and politically autonomous environment, according to the model of “one site / one fortification / one territory / one community”. Autarchy and competition for strategic resources would have generated a condition of “global war”, responsible for the fortification of settlements present for the first time in the archaeological record. War would export conflict and tension to intercommunity relationships and preserve the internal unit of the group on an equalitarian basis. Finally, equalitarianism and political autarchy were seen as reaction to a centralist and hierarchic process, allegedly emerging in the late Neolithic. Faithful to a materialistic approach, the dynamics of the system based on localism was to generate a structural contradiction, blocking social and economic development, namely an incipient social hierarchy associated with copper metallurgy. This would lead to crises that would dialectically be overcome by system reorganization. Integration would then take place, and political assimilation would substitute autarchy, giving way to social and settlement hierarchy in the beginning of the Bronze Age. Theoretical disputes aside, this model suffered from problems of scale and data. At the time, few Chalcolithic sites were known and fewer were excavated in the south of Portugal. This was a pioneering time. Discourse was built on a limited number of isolated sites, the majority scarcely excavated and quite distant from each other, extracted from their still

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unknown settlement context. A more realistic density and diversity of territorial occupation was yet to be disclosed, and the situation was propitious to localism and to interpretation centered on the site regardless its context: the site was the scale of analysis and then, by a generalization process, discourse was extended to a regional scale (i.e. Southwest Iberia). A uniform pattern of Chalcolithic settlements location was established: high places, with good visual control of landscape and fine natural defense conditions. Today, this picture is unsustainable. An incredible amount of new data, mainly resulting from emergency archaeology of the last ten years, has changed the regional image for South Portugal, stressing the inadequacy of the model. Despite the successive asseveration (Silva and Soares 1987; Silva 1990; Soares andSilva 1992; Silva, Raposo and Silva 1993), signs of resistance were available for some time, namely the specificities of large sites like Porto Torrão in Alentejo (Arnaud 1982, 1993), Pijotilla (Badajoz) in the Guadiana basin (Hurtado 1986, 1995) or Valencina de la Concepción in the lower Guadalquivir, which suggest aggregated settlement networks in the Southwest. Nevertheless, it was in the last decade that we started to have a more adequate perception of the density and diversity of territorial occupation. Resuming the most significant data for Southwest Iberia: the discovery (and excavation) of new large ditch enclosures, in some cases also with walls, with associated necropolis in the middle Guadiana basin, such as Perdigões (16 ha) in Reguengos de Monsaraz (Lago et al. 1998; Valera et al. 2000; Valera et al. 2007) and San Blás (more than 130 ha) in Cheles (Hurtado 2003, 2004); the discovery of large enclosures of ditches in the old known site of Alcalar in Algarve and the diversity and monumentality of its peripheral necropolis (Morán and Parreira 2003); the growing dimension (over 250 ha) of Valencina de la Cocepción (Sevilla); the evidence that several of these architectures go back to Neolithic times, as revealed by one of the ditches of the enclosure detected in Porto Torrão (Valera and Filipe 2004) or in other enclosures recently detected and excavated (such as Juromenha - Calado 2002); the growing density of settlement networks; the diversity of architectures (open sites, walled enclosures, ditched enclosures), dimensions, temporalities and locations of settlements.

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Figure 8-1. Map published by Silva and Soares (1976:77), locating the sites that supported their model for Southwest Iberia.

In the face of growing data provided by the last decades of archaeological work in Southwest Iberia, different settlement aggregation models have been developed based mainly on processual and materialistic approaches. For the Spanish middle Guadiana basin (Hurtado 1995, 1999, 2003), hierarchical aggregation is thought to take place in the context of a specific territorial process. The large enclosure of Pijotilla would be the centre of a territory, occupied by solitary communities, with social relations based on cooperation and redistribution. This model envisions a hierarchic territory of communitarian basis, where the centre assumes a redistributive role and serves as religious and symbolic reference, regulating the inner social order. This solution is closer, although slightly less hierarchic, to Gilman’s redistribution model, suggested in his personal revision of two decades of functionalist prehistory in Southeast Iberia (1999). Assuming that inequality is inherent to production intensification, regarded as incompatible with parental social systems (named inadequate to that mode of production demands), a large scale dependency and management is structured by what he calls a Redistributive Chiefdom.

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The process origin is not particularly different from the autarchic model, nor is the theoretical background. The driving force is again production intensification associated with technological development, generating surplus and consequently demographic growth. Demographic pressure leads to fission processes, responsible for the multiplication of smaller settlements. The main difference seems to be in the result of that dynamic: a tendency for smaller independent equalitarian communities living in smaller territories and in permanent conflict for the autarchic model, and a large hierarchical aggregated territory supporting a parental and solitary social matrix for the aggregation model. Completing an image inspired by the traditional (and nowadays questionable) model developed for Los Millares in Southeast Iberia, the several fortified settlements located in high places in the border of that territory (Tierra de Barros, Badajoz) are interpreted in the context of an integrated and coordinated strategy of territorial defense run by the centre. Here, the idea held by the autarchic model that war would export conflict to intergroup relationship, granting internal unity and cooperation, is transposed from a local to a regional scale: a large hierarchical but solitary settlement network is protecting itself from other competing territories. From competing autarchic sites we pass to competing hierarchical territories. From fortified settlement, we pass to fortified territory. For South Portugal, several authors have discussed aggregation and hierarchy (Gonçalves and Sousa 1997; Calado 2001; Valera 2003; Morán and Parreira 2003; Valera and Filipe 2004), assuming, with different theoretical perspectives, that social dynamics are articulated at supra local regional scales. However, the amount of data and the images provided by some “mega sites”, such as Los Marroquiés Bajos (Jaen) or Valencina (Sevilla), inspired further discourse regarding aggregation, and in the last years a “reunion” of all South Iberia in a core/periphery hierarchic dependency has been attempted (Nocete 2001). Taking into consideration the Peer Polity Interaction model (Renfrew and Cherry 1986), regarded as adequate for local/regional analysis, and the World System model (Wallerstein 1993), developed for large interregional scales, F. Nocete (2001) developed a materialistic approach to South Iberia as a whole, based on core/periphery dependency relationships. In this model, an “initial classicist society” could only be developed and reproduced through a spatial organization of social inequality, process that

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implied territorial expansion to periphery and only recognizable in large scales of analysis.

Figure 8-2. Map published by Hurtado (1995) with the settlement aggregated network of “Terra de Barros”.

The Southwest is seen as an extension of influence from the core, located in Los Marroquiés Bajos, and large enclosures, like Valencina, Porto Torrão or Pijotilla, are interpreted as semi-peripheral centers, capable of controlling and centralizing critical resources, allegedly produced in specialized dependent sites such as “miner’s settlements”. That control and selective circulation and distribution of critical resources and products would reinforce dependency and increase inequality. Nocete evades criticism on the applicability of World Systems to prehistoric societies1 by arguing that the model has plural modalities and that typical mechanisms of market economies are absent in some of those modalities, especially where social inequality relationships are structured by spatial dependency scales. The process is presented in a pristine way, expanding West and East from the high Guadalquivir valley, forming peripheral rings with different dependence degrees. Once again, the motor is based on agrarian intensification and demographical growth, but a special role is reserved to labor force control, regarded as crucial to

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surplus increase in low technologic development societies. Following Godelier, he assumes that labor control may be indirect, achieved through symbolic resources, for instance based on ancestors cult, on supernatural or other ways of indirect control over land and labor. This is what J. Soares (2003) called symbolic euphemistic power: a process of turning capital into symbolic capital, giving an illusion of autonomy to symbolic and religious power in controlling without coercion.

Figure 8-3. Map published by Nocete (2001) with spatial limits of hierarchic dependency in South Iberia through the 3rd millennium BC.

This solution (symbolic euphemism) is closer to the one provided by models that stress the role of persuasion and negotiation as a crucial superstructure political strategy for aggregation and emergence of inequality process (Hayden 1995; Diáz-del-Rio 2004; Garrido-Pena 2006). In trans-equalitarian societies, regarded as intermediate diversified social organizations between segmentary and ranked societies, strong mechanisms of coercion are absent and power and cohesion rely on factions and in their

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political games. In time, especially in periods of economic growth, the system allows power concentration and group differentiation, which increase inequality. This model has been suggested to areas where the archaeological record show settlement networks less exuberant than those of South Iberia. In fact, these aggregation theories, based on redistributive or classicist social relations, rest, in terms of their empirical data, on size hierarchy of settlements, differences in monumental investment and architectonic achievement, differences in location strategies according resource availability and differences in the amount of certain artifact categories (prestige goods, metals, products of large circulation). The contrast is regarded as revealing rank or classicist social organization, and the bigger sites are interpreted as political and economic centers that rule large territories, supported by agrarian intensification. Monumental architecture, reflecting a large labor mobilization, is seen as unquestionable evidence and consequence of social asymmetry, and used in its social reproduction. Almost ten years ago A. Gilman critically reviewed some of these assumptions: “Los datos que tenemos, aunque sean desiguales e incompletos, nos permiten ver que algunos elementos claves de estos argumentos – las jerarquías de asentamiento, la especializacíon artesanal a tiempo completo en la metalurgia, las clases sociales hereditarias – carecen de confirmacíon adecuada, mientras que outros – la existencia de un cierto grado de intensificación en la agricyltura –siguen en pie” (Gilman, 1999: 91)2.

Gilman’s paper suggested a nuanced view of complexity levels in Chalcolithic and Bronze Age societies in South Iberia (particularly the Southeast), emphasizing the lack of evidence for strong social hierarchy supported by irreversible dependencies and controlled by consolidated and institutionalized powers. However, the main problem lies in the association between social complexity and linear social evolutionism— from simple to complex, from less to more—based on no quantitative perception of change and diversity and in inflexible projections of theoretical models developed for social realities closer to our times. In fact, Gilman’s statement regarding the inflation of complexity (as Norman Yoffe put it) occurred in a particularly curious time in Iberian archaeological research: a moment when, almost everywhere, new data was revealing significant complexity, not only in the South, but also in the

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North, where hundreds of Chalcolithic enclosures were identified along the Douro and Mondego basins (Delibes de Castro et al. 2005; Jorge 1994, 2003; Valera 2000, 2007). Furthermore, monumental architecture was expanding in space but also in time, since several enclosures were related to early Neolithic times, namely the large ditch structures recently excavated in Valência region, on the east coast of Iberia (Aubán and Kohler 2003; Kohler et al. 2008). According to recent data, the emergence of monumental investment and architectonic achievement in the Southwest, namely ditch enclosures such as the inner enclosure of Porto Torrão, the enclosure of Juromenha, and the small enclosure of Torrão, has moved back in time into the final Neolithic period. These data reveale a new diversified image of settlement networks and suggesting the need of alternative interpretative approaches to settlement diversity and aggregation processes during the late 4th and 3rd millennium in the region.

Behind coercion, persuasion or solitary cooperation: alternatives to settlement aggregation discourse It has already been said that the last decade provided a significant improvement on available data for Southwest Iberia Neolithic and Chalcolithic settlement networks, basically3 related to the emergency archaeological work of a large project: Alqueva dam and related networks of water and energy distribution. This amount of new data was then mainly restricted to middle Guadiana basin, and this circumstance must be in our mind when looking at the actual map of site distribution (Figure 8-4). In fact, when settlement interpretation is attempted in this area, three aspects should be considered: the quantity, the quality and the nature of data. The image produced in Figure 4 comprises almost two millennia and generates a picture depicting false coexistence of all sites, easily generating relations between sites that we do not know for sure were contemporaneous. These relations are central for settlement network interpretation. The distribution of large enclosures, all of them with associated necropolis, suggest a regular special distribution of settlement aggregated networks, occupying fertile land in important fluvial basins (Pijotilla, San Blás, Perdigões related to Guadiana river, and Porto Torrão related to Sado river), or close to estuary environment (Alcalar, Papa Uvas ou Valencina). However, when we look closely at each of these territories, difficulties became obvious: a great discrepancy in quality and quantity of data concerning problems of simultaneity, temporality, growing dynamics and functionality of all the sites. Just like sites taken individually,

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settlement networks are dynamic and expand and retract during the periods we use to organize historical time. They are not the static image conveyed by cartography and probably never did correspond to that image.

Figure 8-4. Settlement distribution in Southwest Iberia from middle 4th to early 2nd millennium BC.

Another problem has to do with developmental velocity and the nature of sites through time. What was the initial size of a large enclosure that functioned for hundreds of years? Was a smaller site once bigger than the larger ones? Why do neighboring sites present growing asymmetries? Has the actual space occupied by archaeological remains ever been

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simultaneously functional? Did their functions stay the same through their living times? How did the network behave through the process of emergence and consolidation of an aggregation centre? Most of these questions, central to settlement network interpretation, simply cannot be answered. Finally, what kind of sites were they? Should we treat them as expressions of the same social processes? Coming from theoretical perspectives closer to post-modern tendencies, strong criticism is being focused on several dichotomist assumptions in settlement interpretation, such as symbolic / functional or sacred / domestic (Jorge 1994; Márquez Romero 2003). Deterministic thought, based on mechanical and linear evolutionism, is denounced while phenomenology and hermeneutics emerge as guidelines for discourse, while identity and cognition problems join landscape issues, frequently with an apparent structuralist flavor. Debating ditch enclosures in South Iberia, Márquez Romero (2003, 2008) stresses that the available archaeological data doesn’t support their traditional interpretation as “villages”, arguing that empirical data was manipulated in a compulsive way, to become adequate to a specific and conservative theoretical establishment. Simultaneously, he underlines the need for the examination of enclosures as a phenomenon of European scale that should be approached with a more open interpretative mind. Enclosures are then assumed as built places with the social role of organizing space and performing identity administration, aggregating and reinforcing cohesion over dispersed populations across a given territory. Quoting C. Scarre, Márquez Romero believes enclosures may be quite diversified and serve in different ways, and therefore it may be more prudent to speak of an “enclosure idea” developed in different forms by each community to respond to their specific social needs. So the equation “similar material phenomenology / identical social process” is abandoned. In fact, being a European phenomenon (see also Salisbury and Morris, Chapter 5 this volume), enclosures present significant formal diversity, probably corresponding to an equally diversified conceptualization of those architectures. In Iberia, that diversity is quite remarkable (Valera e Filipe, 2004), expressed in design, topography, dimensions, spatial complexity, foundation dates, temporality or contextual nature of occupation.

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Diversity, namely in its most ephemeral versions, has been addressed by the so called “dwelling perspective” to stress the phenomenological importance of the act of building and inhabiting the buildings (Evans 1988). Enclosures would have a permanent unfinished design, always emerging as a new experience. There wouldn’t be a particular form previous to construction, but a dwelling sequence developing in a relational context with all elements of the world, and meaning would be produced in the volatility of experience (Ingold 2000). Therefore, design is not detachable from dwelling as a previous stage of building. Though it is not particularly difficult to adhere to ontological and epistemological grounds that refuse the separation between subject / object and that emphasize the experiential component of every representation, excessive binding to existential volatility may drive us to an incomprehensible particularism. If meanings come out of experience and dwelling, it is also true that those meanings tend to be retained. If meanings are historical and two individuals can not have the same exact experience or dwelling of a given situation, the dynamics of life has rhythms that allow pre-conceptualizations to be established and shared, which guide and constrain action. Otherwise, we would be in the presence of a new form of dichotomy between structure and agency, between the social and the individual. If the act of building participates in the construction of the meaning of an architectural structure, that act is also bounded to previous meanings rooted in tradition (and generally communicated by communities) and by purposes also shared and related to that same tradition. It is not surprising, then, that Whittle recently argued that several similarities occur in enclosures in different and vast areas of Europe (such as circular tendency or concentric design), suggesting the existence of shared ideas that actively participate in architectural form and in territory and landscape organization (Whittle 2006). To a structuralist, this approach suggests that many resemblances throughout the world might express structural similarities in the solutions developed to deal with certain problems and situations of social organization that have a limited range of possibilities. But the simple inversion of interpretation, regarding all enclosures simply as sacred and religious places, is seen as a perpetuation of the criticized dichotomy “sacred/profane” (Márquez Romero 2003). The activities that occurred inside these places would be inscribed in daily social practices of those communities. Enclosures would have an active role in landscape and territory building and in mental world structuring. It

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is assumed we are in the presence of societies very different from ours, where daily life and activities are strongly impregnated with sacred meanings and that these populations organized and built their space in a local / global correspondence logic. According to this orientation, large enclosures maintain an aggregation role, but the mechanisms of aggregation are totally different from those proposed by materialistic approaches of core/periphery dependency based on social coercion, although in certain aspects they may be compatible with redistribution models. Particular importance is conceded to identity and world vision, which underline the role of cognitive and psychological aspects as critical issues to human social and territorial organization. Archaeology has always spoken of the mind. But the development of cognitive science and psychological and anthropological structuralism after World War II renewed that interest, and if efforts have been mostly orientated to Man’s evolutionary process, some research lines have demonstrate that the historical dynamics of basic mental representation categories is also very important to Recent Prehistory, helping contextualize meaning and allowing the emergence of the “differences of the past”. Recent developments, especially in Cybernetics and Information Theory, allow us to consider cognitive processes independently of a specific representation (Gardner 2002: 46) and analyze their contingency, recognizing different forms of thought through a cognitive anthropology. As Lévi-Strauss argued, an essential structure creates the frame of two rationality patterns, savage and domestic, that express themselves through specific historical “versions”; the possibilities that each pattern can assume in a certain historical context (Criado Boado 2000). Today, the general idea is that human cognitive structure has been the same throughout history, but not its contextual form of operating. If Man is basically the same (hardware), his forms of thinking and representation (software) can change and do change (Putnam 1988; Gardner 2002). Recognition is seen as a contingent process and cognitive morphologies are historical. Modular theories of cognitive evolution showed that structural transformations are not just a question of physical evolution, but that cultures have a restructuring active role in the modes of thinking, not just in contents, but also in neurological organization: “a culture can, literally, reconfigure the patters of brain use” (Donald 1999:25). This historicity of modes of thinking allows us to speculate about the mental operative frameworks that might have functioned in recent prehistory, helping to consider different

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forms of recognizing and constructing meaning that enlarge our interpretative possibilities related, in the present case, to specific architecture and spatial organization. To that purpose, the finalist model, inspired in Piaget’s work, may be quite useful. It generically establishes a set of stages of centered perspectives, where a given situation becomes an absolute and is not articulated with other possibilities. A homology is established between object and perspective of the object. Particular aspects of perspective are considered as properties of the object, in the context of an absolute system of references. This general pre-operative mental structure, (or its opposite, the operative mental one), in terms of the theoretical model, correspond to an “epistemic individual” (Piaget 1973), an ideal individual that embodies the common representation mechanisms of a specific time. As usual, complexity of reality is simplified by the model, and the “epistemic individual” must not be confused with any real existence, always more complex and heterogeneous. Nevertheless, it is useful when we try to understand basic pre-operative ways of thinking and their implications in human organization in the world. In this mode of thinking, the moments of causal sequences tend to be seen as “qualities” with essential characteristics, usually with no connections between them. Reversible thought becomes impracticable. In other words, a certain situation is not related to anterior moments in its original sequence. Reasoning is centered in the final stages of processes: the arriving point is seen as the only one possible and fatalism is established. It is not considered a possibility amongst others, submitted to reversibility principles that allow its anticipation and perception as a situation in a ground of different possibilities. Finalism is set: the situation is seen as natural and unquestionable, because there could not be another. This interferes in a very decisive manner in mental classification processes that organize the world, inducing homologies and participation mechanisms. The participation abilities allow people’s properties to be transferred into objects or participated in by them, giving way to animism and generating situations where the symbol and the symbolized are united. Examples of this include people not speaking a given name because it calls the thing, many people will not say cancer (they talk about a lingering disease), and Harry Potter should not pronounce Voldemort’s name. This centered perspective also induces artificialism, giving intentionality to causal sequences and associating the ways of the world to models of

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human action, thus generating mythological or religious creationism. The finalist way of thought is then a generator of animism, magic and artificialism, establishing the bases of psychomorphic causality (Baginha 1985). It reveals levels of non-differentiation between individual and object, fusing their properties either totally or partially. This cognitive mode is also present in basic categories of representation, especially in the perception of space. Space is finite, qualitative, discontinuous and heterogeneous: the core has qualities that other areas do not have and is frequently organized in a polarized way. It tends to become a hierarchy of qualities. Certain places are seen as cores with qualities, inseparable and not transmittable, that other places do not share. In spatial analyses, the centered perspective reveals a notion that the actual place is the natural place (had to be). Space becomes finalist since intentions are given to spatial causal sequences: things are where they should be, with qualities that are natural and essential, and each situation has a purpose (finality), which is the reason for its existence. Consequently, many places are not seen as a whole composed of different parts. The parts are seen as independent entities joined together. The Bororo villages of South America provide an example: the circular organization is divided in two parts that are considered as separable “objects” with their one trait, so the idea of one village is missing. Naturally, finalist thought is a theoretical model that does not have a plain practical correspondence. The model, like any other model, should be used carefully, with concern for particular historical conditions, and keeping in mind that discourse is a compromise between the theoretical formula and specific situations. Its categorizations, with natural graduation, could be considered adequate to approach pre-modern structures of thought and be helpful in inter subjective relations between present and past, as a contribution to diminishing the “mirror effect”. Specially, it has promising results when applied to spatial and architectonic organization, seen as a genuine expression of human way of thinking and understanding of the world. The role of cosmologies in space organization and architectural developments of prehistoric communities has been pointed to as one of the possible shared ideas of prehistoric communities. Ethnographic data is vast and generally suggests that cosmologies are reflected in symbolic elements, art, architecture or landscapes. In other words, biography speaks of cosmographies. These cosmologic approaches have asserted the

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inadequacy of dichotomies such as sacred/profane or human/natural in the interpretation of prehistoric sites, arguing that daily life, cosmos and religion constitute an inseparable unity (paradoxically, phenomenology induced holistic perspectives). Architectures and spatial organization are part of that totality, simultaneously reflecting it and acting upon it. As support evidence, many ethnographic examples are available that present houses or entire sites where construction is impregnated by cosmology. These cosmologies are typically organized by zones, with specific properties and more or less defined, but permeable, boundaries. The importance of the notion of limiting the classification of space and the construction of its meanings has been frequently outlined (Paul-Lévi and Segaud 1983; Sack 1986; Lefebvre 1991; Barth 1999; Vignaux 2000). Being symbolic devices, representations need discontinuities in order to exist. They require frontiers. Barth particularly insists that identification is simultaneously differentiation. A qualitative hierarchy of space develops demarcation modes that establish borders. Those borders, however, are not very tight or well defined, and intermediate spaces of transition are frequent (Appadurai, quoted by Silvano 2001), which reinforce the symbolic value of special elements of connection, such as pathways or gates and doors. Cosmological space frequently appears divided in three parts: an upper world (associated with sky, stars, mountains, aerial vision), a middle world (earth surface) and an underworld (sub-soil and its inhabitants, such as ants), usually articulated with the Sun and Moon trajectories. Sometimes there are intermediate spaces between these major cosmologic territories. In a finalistic context, the cosmos organization is qualitative, heterogeneous, hierarchic and, most important, participation mechanisms take place (Valera 2007, 2008): cosmographies (i.e. Cosmos representations) participate of Cosmos properties. Symbol and symbolized are fused. The base of cosmologic construction and the base of its physical representation are the same: the world and its dwelling. So anything may be used to express cosmologic properties and participate in them. In this context, architecture and landscape organization appear as ways of “mapping” the cosmos. The characteristics and stories associated with the universe can be read, remembered and experienced through spatial organization, since they are inscribed in it. Architecture, as spatial building, can be cosmographic; it can become a map representing cosmos. However, in finalist cognitive structures these building maps are not

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simple representations. Since physical particularities chosen to express cosmological dichotomies participate of the properties of those cosmological fields, they are what they represent. For instance, a mountain does not simply represent the upper world, it is the upper world, and the same may occur with a particular part of the house or the settlement. Architecture and physical particulars of landscape (such us topography, hydrology, geology, etc.) appear as semantic resources, expressing in a polarized way the dichotomies through which the Universe might be organized (Figure 8-5). Criticism regarding the projection of modern dichotomies into research on past societies should not minimize the structural role that dichotomist thought must have played in the prehistoric social organization. Specially, it should not lead us to take dichotomist thought for a simplistic dualism. Anthropology shows us that social and cosmological organizations structured by dichotomies are frequently expressed through dualistic systems of opposed elements. However, in his analysis of dualism, LéviStrauss (2003) underlines that dual symmetrical and reciprocal structures are quite rare, if existent. He distinguishes two forms of dualistic structures: the diametrical structure and the concentric structure. Divisions of elements into apparently symmetrical and reciprocal parts express the diametrical structure. On the contrary, in concentric structures, a centre/periphery hierarchy is recognized between the elements, and their relations became asymmetric and less reciprocal. An inequality is established among the opposed elements that apparently is absent from the diametrical expression. Furthermore, the reciprocal and symmetrical relationship of opposed elements tends to develop a confined diametrical structure, while concentric organization projects itself in the surroundings, prolonging the hierarchy of elements. However, in the majority of cases, diametrical symmetry is just apparent (ibid.). Frequently the two elements represent asymmetric dichotomies such as identity / transformation, stability / change or situation / process. In other situations, a triadic organization lies beneath the apparent dualism or diametrical and concentric dualism and triadic structures are combined simultaneously in a more complex social organization and representation.

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Figure 8-5. Three examples of physical resources for cosmological representations. A. Correlation between horizontal linearity of the Sun’s path from East to West with the vertical linearity of sky/earth’s surface/sub-soil; B. Using water streams to express cosmological dichotomies: axel established by division left bank/right bank and axel established by stream (upstream/downstream); C. Using topography to express cosmological dichotomies (e.g. plateau/valley). These different resources can be articulated in different ways.

With these theoretical notions in mind, let as then return to enclosures and settlement aggregation problems in Southwest Iberia.

Cosmological bonds and aggregation in Southwest Iberia: the case of Perdigões settlement network I will now present an example of settlement organization and architectural solutions that may be read according to a cosmological representation framework and help us in the interpretation of some enclosures and their contextual landscapes. The case study regards Perdigões archaeological complex (Lago et al. 1998; Valera et. al. 2000, 2007). Perdigões is a large enclosure located in Alentejo region (South Portugal), in the occidental extremity of Ribeira do Álamo valley and of the local settlement network. We do not know the exact moment of Perdigões foundation, nor the size and architecture of the site at that moment. However, nothing indicates that it is earlier than the middle fourth millennium BC, and when the large enclosure was built, the valley’s occupation as a huge megalithic necropolis was already well established. Therefore, aggregation around Perdigões can be seen as process related to a specific and meaningful territory that was under construction since the Neolithic times. Its location was not incidental. On the contrary, it was result of choice and intentionality. What can we say about those intentions? The reading of landscape, its meaning, must have presided to that decision, certainly taken among other possible choices.

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The site was built in a depression that looks like an amphitheatre opening to the east, to the valley where more than a hundred megalithic tombs were located. To west, south and north, visibility is restricted by the site’s own topographic limits. A “spot” clearly marks the centre of the enclosure and from that point, visibility is directed to east by topography, to the Monsaraz Hill that marks the horizon in the other extremity of the valley. If we are standing in this central point of the enclosure, the sun rises behind Monsaraz Hill to make its path over the valley and to sets just in the western limits of the site. This central “spot” is surrounded by a sequence of roughly concentric ditches, which are themselves framed by two other circular and concentric ditches with a 450m diameter, with very little space between them. The circularity of the outside ditch is interrupted in the east by a semicircular structured graveyard, where megalithic collective graves (similar to tholoi) have eastern orientations. Two apertures in those circular ditches open to the valley in the East quadrant, symmetrically located in each side of the graveyard, and a cromlech is situated just a few meters below, also in the east side of the enclosure (Figure 8-6). The outside ditches enclose an area of 16 ha and their geometry, along with their necropolis association, suggests planning and a restricted moment of construction. The site is in the eastern extremity of the valley and does not occupy a geographic centrality in the local settlement network. East orientation is crucial, not just of doors, tombs, necropolis area and megalithic cromlech, but of the location of the site itself: in the western extremity but with its back to the west and facing east, and the principal topographic elevation where the sun rises. The spatial organization of the enclosure and the established link with local spatiality strongly suggest an astronomic relation and a connection to the ways in which these communities understood there world. Dichotomies (such as back/front, darkness/light, west/east upstream/downstream) which are usually seen as belonging to a Neolithic modeling view of the world seem to structure not just the architecture and spatial organization of the site, but also its specific location in landscape. The design of the site and the design of the territory, at least in a certain moment of their life, could express a cosmological map, and the circular and concentric spaces express a hierarchy of territories towards the centre. Remember that there are plenty of ethnographic examples where the vertical stratigraphy of Cosmos is expressed in circular concentric representations. An open and hierarchic concentric structure of space (physical, social and cosmological)

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may be seen here, but diametrical organizations could also be present. The site’s location in the valley and the location of the necropolis are, as we have seen, structured on dichotomies of light /darkness, world of the living / world of the dead, front / back, east / west, sunrise / sunset. As it was argued before, examples of superposed complex diametrical and concentric dualities are known in anthropological research. In America, the Winnebago and the Bororo simultaneously conceive their social and spatial structure both in diametrical and concentric ways (Lévi-Strauss 2003). The Bororo divide their circular villages in two halves of four clans each according to an east-west axis, with the territories of the dead at each extremity, and then again according to a north-south axis with a different rearrangement of the groups of four clans. In this last duality one group of clans is called “the above” and the other “the below”, but when the dividing axis is physically marked by a stream they are called “the upstream” and the “downstream”. Even local geology, with a concentric lithology, (Figure 8-7) could sustain cosmologic homologies of this kind. The enclosure was built in a geologically favorable area, with weathered diorites and gabbros, but chooses a limit of that geological ground, showing the interest for the morphology of that specific point and its relation with the surrounding landscape. In a finalist cognitive context, this concentric geology would be impregnated with finalism and its configuration would have had meaning, it would respond to intentions, and the coincidence of centralities (of enclosure and favorable geology) could reinforce the cosmological reading of local landscape.

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Figure 8-6. Perdigões aerial photography with indication of specific areas and orientation and in the local territory. The biggest dot is Perdigões enclosure; the small dots correspond to megalithic monuments, the others to settlements.

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Figure 8-7. Geological context of the Perdigões area. Note the concentric tendency of geological formations and the coincident centrality of the weathered diorites and gabbros (where the ditches were easier to open).

Independently of the debate surrounding concrete functions (a place where people lived permanently, a temporary ritual meeting point, etc.), the access to this enclosure would have to be seen as a finalist movement, not simply to a surrounded space, but towards a specific place representing (in the way it was designed and lived) the local landscape, a social structure and a world vision. The two primary modes of dwelling defined by Casey (1993) are united here: the “Hestial dwelling” (name inspired in the Greek goddess of the heart, as symbolizing the core), which points to centrality, circularity and self-enclosure, and the “Hermetic dwelling” (following Hermes, the god of movement and roads) related to linearity of movements (paths) in daily life. In other words, the basic oppositions referred by Lévi-Strauss: identity / transformation, stability / change or situation / process. So the aggregation power that Perdigões enclosure would have on local communities is basically related to the specific ways in which those communities thought and imagined their world and organized themselves and their landscape. In other words, the large enclosure would have emerged in an ongoing context of local identity generation and territorial

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cognitive organization according to cosmographic worldviews, a previous process catalyzed by the site at a specific moment of the historical trajectories of those communities. The empirical information necessary for debating these interpretative hypotheses is still scarce at Perdigões, since archaeological excavations are restricted to small areas, leaving many uncertainties about design, building dynamics, nature of occupations and their temporalities. Nevertheless, these hypotheses, which do not necessarily involve the rejection of a more functionalist approach, do enlarge the questionnaire of research and provide a richer understanding of the site. To try to create empirical data to confront this interpretative path, several studies are being undertaken now in Perdigões, such as ceramics archaeometry, copper metallurgy, palaeodietary analysis, human/animal relationships and funerary practices. Concerning funerary practices, two collective tombs were excavated, revealing only secondary depositions of human remains. According to an aggregation based on a strong symbolic force, this fact may suggest that communities living in the periphery of the enclosure used those tombs to deposit their relatives’ remains after a primary burial elsewhere. There were some differences between the funerary pottery and the pottery collected inside the enclosure, suggesting the possibility of a specific production of pots used in funerary rituals, and the possible use of Perdigões necropolis by surrounding communities. Considering this, an achaeometric study was undertaken with ceramics and clay materials derived by weathering from schists, greywackes, diorites, gabbros, vulcanites, dolerite veins, schists with metabasites and also tertiary clays, representative of regional geological contexts, aiming to establish potential raw materials for Perdigões pottery, so one could ascertain diversity in their provenance and in ceramic productions. The results emphasized considerable chemical heterogeneity in funerary pottery, especially of tomb 1, and the existence of a few sherds completely outliers. A multivariate statistical approach distinguishes one main group, which includes around 50% of the analyzed samples, and a second one about 30% of the samples, including ceramics of both enclosure (in majority) and funerary context. The third group (20%) is mainly constituted with funerary ceramics of tomb 1. A regional origin for most of the ceramics is probable. Quartzodiorite derived clays were

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probably the most used raw material, as well as diorites and associated gabbros (related to the local geology of the site), and in some cases also tertiary clays. Nevertheless, the funerary pottery revealed a spread of resources and the third group, having exclusively funerary pots, is the only one that points to the use of weathered schists, the most distant geological source (Figure 8-7). Considering one of the main questions, the more diversified raw materials used in pottery of funerary rituals and the exclusivity of the use of weathered schist material in funerary pots, associated with the secondary nature of ritual in the tombs, strongly suggest that Perdigões aggregated also in death, reinforcing its cosmological role in the local settlement network. Moreover, the location of the necropolis in the east side of the enclosure, between the two openings that connected to the valley, was of particular meaning and probably that meaning was not just pure representation, but also participation: participation of the properties of a specific place of the cosmographic geography of those communities.

Final remarks A progressive sedentary condition, with territory contraction, reinforcement of borders, increasing of land investments and dependences had mental implications. Cultural contexts interfere in cognitive processing. The growing capacity of human intervention in nature stimulated the perception of space as something open to human transformation. In another way, the development of megalithic “cultural movement” generated new perceptions of time, associated to tradition and social memory (Criado Boado 2000; Bradley 2004), which imply new patterns of space rationalization and dwelling. This process would open the door to future separation between human and natural and to the redefinition of their relationships. The control over the “natural” (even if not yet conceptualized as such) has cognitive repercussions in the way mental space categories are processed. However, if changes in the perception of space and time capacities were induced during recent prehistory, nothing allows us to think that they would escape to an essentially qualitative and hierarchic organization of a finalistic type. Therefore, I assume as promising the interpretation that some of these enclosures were places where identities were produced and reproduced, functioning as poles of social aggregation and of world organization through cosmological homologies. They guide

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the “being-in-the-world” of communities and individuals that, through participation psychological processes, were in control of their cosmos by controlling its physical representation, enabling them to symbolically travel through their cosmological territories by moving in a homological organized space. Daily walking or periodic ritual walks through those “maps” would be like walking the universe hierarchy. Participation allows the control of the symbolized by controlling the symbol. Enclosure architecture (or the architecture of some enclosures) would go behind social and cosmological representation and participate in their production and reproduction. This cosmological bond would be extendable to landscapes and to the ways in which meaningful places were structured. Today we live in a world dominated by linearity and history that does not repeat itself. We even conceive contingency as something that turns our “access” to past almost impossible. A linear way of thinking is driving us away from that past, generating world visions quite different from that mythical and animist world written in the architecture of the time. In fact, independently of topographical particularities, which generate adaptation and specific design, the tendency to circular architecture is dominant in the third millennium BC in Southwest Iberia, as in other regions. Graves, houses, enclosures, towers, bastions, pits; all are dominated by an architecture that seems to refuse angles. Circle, being one of nature’s familiar forms, is also the shape that best represents the cyclic dynamic of live. The cyclic trajectory of ordinary activity ordered in time, the mythical thought of an original moment to return to, the cyclic worldviews, may all be expressed by this circular architecture. Nevertheless, this circularity and concentricity may also express (or be) the hierarchic geography of the cosmos, as several ethnographic studies have suggested. As a universal mechanism of communication, architecture broadcasts meaning and reproduces the social order. It is never merely functional, it represents. In a finalist cognitive mind, it may go behind representation. Cognitive participation processes are essential here. Places, buildings and objects can participate with people, communities or world properties, assuming animistic or totemic senses. They do not just symbolically represent the communities or the cosmos, however; they participate in their qualities, helping in their symbolic control and historical reproduction. In the Lord of the Rings, the white city of Gondor is more than a representation of humans; it is their personification as a whole. The

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destruction of the Bastille (as, later, Rudolf Hess’s prison) was for many more than a symbolic act: a destruction of evil itself, of which properties the building participate. Participative thought is a base for homologies between part and whole, characteristic of pre-operative ways of thinking that could be assumed for recent prehistoric communities. The finalist cognitive structure model provides a framework to approach architectures and their contextual landscapes in different historical periods and can be helpful in prehistoric research. In this theoretical context, many enclosures and landscapes of Southwest Iberia are open to other interpretative possibilities quite different from the traditional discourse, though I do not think they can be extendable to all, in a new generalization movement.

Endnotes 1

Applicability of World System model apart, the data used in Nocete’s approach, namely the chronological frame of Southwest settlements, is not correct, and actual data does not support the sequence of expansion and periphery formation he suggests for in this area. 2 “The data that we have, although unequal and incomplete, allow us to perceive that some key elements of these arguments –settlement hierarchy, fulltime metallurgical handcraft specialization, hereditary social classicism – still need adequate confirmation, while others - a certain degree of agricultural intensification – still stand.” (Gilman, 1999: 91) (free translation). 3 Although some research projects in the high Alentejo region also contribute to the amount of data.

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—. 2003. A propósito de recintos murados do 4º e 3º milénios AC: dinâmica e fixação do discurso arqueológico. In S. O.Jorge (ed.), Recintos murados da Pré-História Recente, pp. 149-168, PortoCoimbra: DCTP/ CEAUCP. —. 2007. Dinâmicas locais de identidade: estruturação de um espaço de tradição no 3º milénio AC (Fornos de Algodres, Guarda), Braga: CMFA/TA. —. 2008. Mapeando o Cosmos. Uma abordagem cognitiva aos recintos da Pré-História Recente. ERA Arqueologia 8: 112-127. Valera, A. C. and I. Filipe, 2004. O povoado do Porto Torrão (Ferreira do Alentejo): novos dados e novas problemáticas no contexto da calcolitização do Sudoeste peninsular. Era Arqueologia 6: 28-61. Valera, A.C., M. Lago, C. Duarte and L. S. Evangelista, 2000. Ambientes funerários no complexo arqueológico dos Perdigões: uma análise preliminar no contexto das práticas funerárias calcolíticas no Alentejo. ERA Aqueologia 2: 84-105. Valera, A. C., M. Lago, C. Duarte, M. I. Dias and M. I. Prudêncio, 2007. Investigação no complexo arqueológico dos Perdigões: ponto da situação de dados e problemas. Actas do 4º Congresso de Arqueologia Peninsular, Faro, 2004. Vignaux, G. 2000. O Demónio da Classificação, Lisboa: Instituto Piaget. Wallerstein, I. 1993. World System versus World-Systems. A critique. In A. G.Frank and B. K.Gills (eds.), The World System: Five Hundred Years or Five Thousand?, pp. 292-296, London: Routledge. Whittle, A. 2006. The temporality of enclosure. In V.O. Jorge (ed.), Approaching Prehistoric and Protohistoric architectures of Europe from a dwelling perspective, pp. 15-24, Porto: ADECAP. Zafra de la Torre, N., F.Hornos Mata and M. Castro López, 1999. Una macro-aldea en el origin del modo de vida campesino: Marroquíes Bajos (Jaén) c. 2500-2000 acl. ANE. Trabajos de Prehistoria 56: 77102. Zubrow, E. B. W. 1994. Knowledge representation and archaeology: a cognitive example using GIS. In C. Renfrew and E. B. W. Zubrow (eds.), The Ancient Mind: Elements of cognitive archaeology, New Directions in Archaeology, pp. 107-118, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

CHAPTER NINE LANDSCAPE, IDENTITY AND MATERIAL CULTURE IN “TIERRA DE BARROS” (BADAJOZ, SPAIN) DURING THE 3 RD MILLENNIUM BCE VÍCTOR HURTADO PÉREZ AND CARLOS P. ODRIOZOLA

Introduction Modern theories of social identity have opened up a new path that approaches concepts of style and social boundaries (Gosselein 1998, 2000). These studies coincide in accepting the interactive, heterogeneous, and dynamic nature of the construction of an identity through the creation of a significant “Us” in opposition to a “Them” (Hernando 2002; DíazAndreu 2005; Gosselein 2000). These studies also look to detect, using various methodological and conceptual tools, this practice in the archaeological register. This new focus, that considers identity as a process rather than an entity, allows us to explore crucial aspects such as gender, social stratification, domination-resistance processes, cultural contact and migrations from a point of view that is more pragmatic and realistic than decades ago. Any area of the material world is susceptible to expressing collective or individual identities, seeing that the use of objects in the production of social strategies is not necessarily a conscious process. In spite of this, certain uses are related to deliberate expressions of identity, while on the

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contrary, others are so embedded in our values and cultural representations that they go by completely unnoticed, thus, forming a part of our habitus (Gosselein 2000). Of course, the question to contemplate (Stark 1998; Stark et al. 2000; Gosselein 1998, 2000) is whether there exist repetitive patterns that relate material culture and identity understood as a construction process, allowing us to identify social boundaries in Prehistory. An important concept is that objects can acquire an endless amount of significance throughout their manufacture and use seeing that they are passed on by the hands of individuals that belong to various social strategies and networks (Appadurai 1986). As the objects are passed on from hand-to-hand, they accumulate a history and acquire the capacity to tell numerous stories about the people who used them. This concept can be extrapolated in a simplified manner from the “chaîne opératoires”, or production sequences. For example, in the South of Cameroon, the potters process clay in a way that clearly identifies them as members of a specific community. They decorate vessels by using a technique that is shared by a larger group of individuals, and equally as limiting, they use the same ornamental tools and decorative motifs as an even larger group of individuals. They fire the vessels in ovens with fuels that closely relate to local/regional traditions and treat the vessels after they are fired with techniques and materials that are shared spatially and socially on an even larger scale (Gosselein 1998, 2000). Through this manner, identity construction acquires its specific meaning through the spatial distribution of its stylistic contents and the steps that are carried out during the manufacturing process (Gosselein 2000:189). Of course, not all individual cases fit into this ideal model, but the case of the potters in the South of Cameroon perfectly exemplifies the concept of “Technical Identity”. This concept includes specific facets of the social identity of the craftsman, and widely corresponds with a complex group of boundaries or social interaction networks that individuals have experienced.

Technology, identity and social boundaries The mental conception of “us vs. them" will materialize the various identities, collective as well as individual, setting a standard of how things “should” be done, while conditioning the choice of production techniques and generating a chaîne opératoire that reflects this group of identities, as collected by O.P. Gosselein (2000) from the potters of the

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South of Cameroon. These craftsmen, who make up a community with their own identity, would have a technical style defined on the basis of various operational sequences, which are defined by the technical choices, and which could especially be followed and used to define the social boundaries/margins of that community. It will precisely be these technical choices that make up the specific operational sequences, differentiated between societies or social agents, which will define the social boundaries/margins. The technical style, or technical identity, can be defined as the combination of the production practices that a group uses in order to produce different goods (Lemonnier 1986). These practices consist of the interaction between techniques and human actions and the material context, social and ideological, in which these human actions take place. The production practices that characterize technical identity are a system of conducts and techniques that are directed according to the various human choices. Each technical process can be resolved by different means. Precisely, it will be the arbitrariness of the technical choice process that produces variability in the technical patterns of material culture. It is true that the set of production practices shape technical identity and that it is neither completely static nor unperturbed by external influences or the passing of time. If the technical choices that affect the segments or activities in the operative sequence are not neutral, some are susceptible to change while others are surprisingly resistant to it. Those that are resistant are what best define a community's technical style, and therefore its boundaries. We should no regard the chaîne opératoires as monolithic or stagnant functional systems, but rather as dynamic. The majority of the technical choices related to operational sequence processes are functionally equivalent. That is to say, they will allow the craftsmen to achieve the same objective, regardless of the choice selected. This means that the interdependence between various stages in the production process is scarce, in that the selection of a technical choice made in one stage will not automatically condition the technical choices associated with the following stages. The manufacturing process of, and use that is given to ceramic artifacts allows for an enormous amount of flexibility when selecting and processing raw materials. Consequently, changes can be

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made throughout the technical system without changing the result or placing the result in danger (see Gosselein 1998, 2000). If culture played a relevant role in the technical pottery system, as it in fact does (see Lemonnier 1993), all of the elements of this technical system should be structured along the same lines of symbolic and social standards and, therefore, should demonstrate internal cohesion without receiving external contributions. In the praxis, the traditions include elements from different origins, essentially depending on the respective histories of the social groups, what Gosselein (2000:191) calls “sociotechnical aggregates”: a mix of invention, borrowed elements and manipulations that demonstrate a tremendous tendency of redefinition by local individuals and groups. These aggregates unequally affect the technical system and the technical choices in so, that while some technical choices are immediately affected, or during the practice, others are tremendously stable to the change. This is because various components of the chaîne opératoire do not share a similar technical flow or involve various similar social interaction processes, in the sense that there are large differences in the potentially reproducible and modifiable technical behavior throughout time and space. It therefore reflects particular facets of identity and, at the same time, makes ceramic technology an especially attractive field in the reconstruction of social boundaries.

Landscape Our objective is to attempt to characterize the social boundaries of the communities that occupied the Middle Guadiana River Basin (from here on MGB) during the III millennium BCE. In order to do so, we will focus on the Territory of Tierra de Barros (Badajoz, Spain) (from here on TTB), our analysis unit where social dynamics and interactions take place in the southwestern peninsula. The southwest includes various analysis units, or regions (i.e. Alentejo, Algarve, Estremadura (Portugal), Guadalquivir Valley, Middle Guadiana River Basin, etc.). Although each region has its own characteristics, they all share common elements, creating a macro-region that is differentiated from others on the Iberian Peninsula. Surveys has been carried out in the MGB (Figure 9-1), which includes the broad outline of the TTB in the Copper Age (Hurtado 1995, 1999; Hurtado and Mondéjar 2008), that supplements previous research

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done by J.J. Enríquez (990) in the Mérida region, where, to date, more than 150 settlements have been documented in this period. This research has provided a broad picture of how the population of the TTB would be in the III millennium BCE (Figure 9-1). Hypotheses have been developed in regards to the territorial organization based on spatial and typological analysis of the local settlements and material culture. Geographically, the TTB is a homogenous and level landscape set on a peneplain to the left of the Guadiana River. While this river delimits the region in the north and west, the foothills of the Sierra Morena do so in the south. Both geographic accidents act as geographic barriers that limit the landscape in both sectors, leaving the east as the only sector without geographic obstacles. Numerous streams and tributaries run through this very fertile land. As observed throughout the studies that were conducted, the occupation of the region followed a pattern: on one side of the territorial center, we find a disperse series of small 1 hectare (ha) settlements always located next to fountains and streams. On the other side, to the east, the landscape continues to be flat with no apparent geographic delimits. In this sector of the territory, we can find a fortified population. Its north-south alignment could construct an artificial delimitation of the west side (Hurtado 1995, 1999, 2000a). The fortified sites that delimit the territory take advantage of the most elevated points of the orography or small terraces by settling there. The majority of them concentrate in the southeastern angle of the territory where the landscape is formed by smooth elevations that permit certain visual control of the zone. An important natural access from the south of Tierra de Barros is located in this sector. The access runs through a valley that is weakened by two mountain ranges. Various fortified settlements are located within a short distance of one another on the peaks of these mountains. The alignment of fortified sites in the periphery of the territory, which artificially closes the west side, and a very homogeneous physiographic landscape that is geographically delimiting by natural barriers on the remaining sides, invite us to assume that this arrangement was intentional. By adding the existence of a large settlement and the arrangement of a group of small, open and evenly distributed settlements in the interior to the above mentioned, we can support the hypothesis of a

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territory organized by a hierarchical structure that is arranged around the central place of La Pijotilla (Figure 9-1. 3). This hypothesis, therefore, deals with a delimited territory and is supported by the absence of other fortified sites on either side of the fortified strip that makes up the northsouth axis. That is to say, until now, none of the settlements located to the east of this arrangement are fortified, as indicated by the studies carried out in these regions (Enríquez 1990; Rodríguez 1986).

Figure 9-1. Distribution of Middle Guadiana Basin Chalcolithic settlements.

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Not all of the settlements along this border are the same size or type (Hurtado 2000a). The majority of the fortifications look for elevated points and high visibility and measure about 0.5 to 1 ha long. The largest of the settlements do not measure more than 3 ha. Only Cortijo Zacarias (Almendralejo) is larger than 3 ha (Figure 9-1. 10). La Sierrilla and El Moral (Figure 9-1. 15, 25), measuring 2 ha, are both defended by two lines of walls. All three of these places can be found 10 km from one another and are situated in a zone with a high density of settlements. The third type of fortification is even smaller in size. On the average they measures less than 0.5 ha and are situated in strategic locations, on occasion in isolated hills that dominate the plain and natural passes where the large amount of ash that can be observed in some profiles calls ones attention. These small locations can serve a more specific purpose, such as vigilance or entrenchment for other nearby settlements that are situated along the banks of the rivers. This could be the case of the small fortified settlement of Porto das Carretas in relation to the nearby settlement of Mercador (Figure 9-1. 51,52), located along the left bank of the Guadiana (Valera 2002), as well as others situated on the east line of the TTB, such as Cerro Berraco or Cerro de la Cruz, fortified and next to Molino Perdido (Figure 9-1. 12, 21), on a plain and along the river Guadajira. An important piece of information to keep in mind, in regards to distribution, is that the line of fortified settlements are situated near an important route that has served as a historic connection, from north to south, for the valleys of the Guadalquivir and the Guadiana. This route connects with another natural route from the southeast that links the mining region of Llerena-Azuaga with TTB. According to J.J. Enríquez, high settlements are strategically arranged along this route (Enríquez 1990). A simple explanation for the fortification of the communities situated on the boundaries of the TTB could be the simple fact that they were situated in the periphery of the territory and that they were, therefore, more exposed to assaults from hostile neighbors and passing groups. However, this interpretation would reveal a series of subtleties when defining the processes of expansion/resistance, where the study of material culture would contribute to clarifying local and regional identities and the specific relationships between them. During recent years, we have been researching the possible reasons for why these fortified settlements were constructed. In early publications,

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we argued that the concentration and distribution of these sites in the periphery could be interpreted, on one hand, as a diachronic accumulation of the communities that moved from the interior for economic or social reasons in the middle of the III millennium BCE (García Sanjuán and Hurtado 1997:141). On the other hand, the fact that changes occurred more frequently in the peripheral zones could be the result of higher permeability due to the continuous interactions with passing zones and neighboring territories. Until now, the main theories offered to explain the appearance of fortifications in the third millennium BCE were based on the increase of war, the protection of surplus, or, from a post-processualists point of view, based on ideological-ritual criteria. In general, all of these theories refer to locations with walls as independent units that are not related with one another, or rather, as “safes” (Barceló 1991), that were built to defend their contents. An additional theory offered is that they were built as “monuments”, or locations for ceremonial concentration. In some cases, the possibility has been kept in mind that these places fulfilled a determined function inside of an organized structure on a macro-spatial scale. For instance, they served as the control/defense of a territory. Based on the information obtained in the archaeological excavations that were carried out, the hypothesis of “safes” built in order to protect a raw materials supply zone, or as defense of particular resources such as metals, does not seems to have any foundation. Some copper mineralizing zones, where the majority of the fortified settlements lie, exist. However, the evidence found is insufficient and very little products or remains of metal production have been detected in excavation sites. In addition, there was no evidence found of the accumulation of food product surpluses, other abiotic resources, nor storage structures that could provide numbers in order to contemplate the necessity of defending any wealth in particular. Excavations that were extensively carried out demonstrate that there exist fortified locations that do not really correspond to defense strategy criteria, that are not completely fortified, or that the walls constructed at low levels were vulnerable. In the small-fortified settlement of Las Mesas (0.8 ha) (Figure 9-1. 19) there are differences in the organization of construction, and the fortifications are reinforced by bastions in the west facing the river. In

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addition, one can observe that the wall was not constructed all at once: neither the canvas of the wall nor the bastions are identical in their construction systems. Moreover, each bastion has a different design (Figure 9-2). An additional case is that of San Blas (30 ha), located along the bank of the Guadiana River (Figure 9-1. 50). Its wall is unfinished and left open, leaving its most vulnerable side unprotected and its location at the lower slope of a hill reduces its capacity for defense. P. Diaz del Río (2008) offers a recent explanation, as an alternative to those previously based on coercion and symbolism. He considers the possibility that these constructions served as collective activities of a repetitive nature, founded on a network of mutual social support relationships in a tribal context where coercion would not be necessary. He expresses that these construction activities were not carried out all at once but at different times, in function with the capacity of certain social segments in order to mobilize the work force and a sufficient amount of production material to maintain it. This is supported by evidence that the constructions were the result of a series of wall and bastion aggregates that were sequentially executed, and not a product of previous planning. However, this suggestive explanation does not take into account the group of fortifications in one territory, or in our case, the high density of locations with walls and their distribution.

Figure 9-2. Construction in the small fortified settlement of Las Mesas.

The linear arrangement of the fortifications, their proximity and the visual relation, among others, are factors that have compelled us to determine the hypothesis that the settlements on the eastern strip of the TTB intended to protect their territory. On a smaller scale, the southeast territory of the peninsula around the center of Los Millares would be very

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similar. Thirteen small forts and watchtowers in its surrounding areas can be found at elevated points in order to protect the settlement and in a “muy especial los territorios de producción subsistencial de los Millares [...] ejerciendo una gran presión sobre las áreas de desplazamientos de las comunidades megalíticas del entorno1” (Molina and Cámara 2005:74). An additional idea on the fortifications in the territory, by R. Mataloto, on the other side of the Guadiana in the neighboring Portuguese Alentejo, values “la existencia de un contexto simbólico y escénico inherente a un espacio mentalmente organizado en torno a una identidad territorial materializada en una red de fortificaciones2” (Mataloto 2005). In order to interpret boundaries and borders, it is essential to attend to the analysis of the social formations that produces it, the organization of its internal dynamics and the center-periphery interactions. In reference to the first point in a previous study (García Sanjuán and Hurtado 1997), a conceptual framework was defined on how to interpret the process of establishing a social hierarchy and the use and notion of Common Social Hierarchy in relation to the TTB communities. This framework examines the structural elements that compose this model of complex social organization of a pre-state nature. Within its demonstrations in various spheres of economy, social production, territorial implementation and ideologies, evidence of an important increase in production and generation of surplus, a considerable increase in demography, hierarchical ordering of the settlements and a particular hierarchy between individuals have been revealed. In this model, the coercive power that the leaders hold is restricted and limited by the collective interests of the community. This assumes a basic difference between hierarchical societies and stratified or state ones that resemble the notion of “cazicazgo” used in Latin America (García Sanjuán and Hurtado 1997:139). Here, the figure of the “Big Man” takes on the functions of political and religious leadership in relation to the distribution of material resources and the maintenance of the inter-group cohesion. The leader does so by using, among others, religious practices that hold up the ideology of the parental foundation. According to K. Kristiansen, in the description of exchange networks in the tribal systems, the ritual will be the main integrating mechanism that sanctions all of the transactions, whether social, economic or military (Kristiansen 2001:95). The communalist ideology is especially expressed in funeral rituals and in the collective use of tombs, which is maintained until very advanced

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periods of the Copper Age. However, the presence of prestigious items in the grave goods of some individuals, as in the case of the tomb T3 of La Pijotilla (Hurtado et al. 2000), suggests differences in social status. Tomb T3 of La Pijotilla is contemporary of the Bell Beaker production of La Pijotilla (Odriozola et al. 2008). This would imply that since the second quarter of the III millennium BCE, the phenomena of social differentiation and individual hierarchization is being produced in the TTB. This interpretation of the type of social formation of a pre-state nature of TTB is considerably different than that demonstrated for the Guadalquivir Valley. In relation to the fortifications, it is necessary to point out that other fortified sites exist outside of the territory of TTB. While there do not appear to be fortifications in the east, they are known in the west (behind the Guadiana, on the Portuguese side) and towards the south, in the mountainous territories that make up the foothills of Sierra Morena. The mountain range of the Sierra Morena makes up the natural barrier that separates the basin of the Guadiana and Guadalquivir rivers, in the north and south respectively. The fortifications are mainly concentrated in the north, in the Guadiana Basin, on the contrary to the almost complete absence in the Guadalquivir Valley. This valley has been interpreted as the geographic framework where a taxed political state structured society lived (Nocete 2001). Analysis done by F. Nocete (2001) on the settlements in the Guadalquivir Valley is based on the idea that a state territory of a classist society under the control of the great Valencina (Seville) settlement, that influence extended to other regions in the periphery, is what would represent what he called the “territorio primado” (primed territory) (ibid. 95 and 136). Nocete agreed with the models of C.N. Gailey and T. Patterson (1998), proposed for a society based on the tributary system. He explains that the transformations, according to his judgment, occurred in the territorial arrangement of the southwest: The primed centers of the Guadalquivir valley maintained their dominance in the middle of the III millennium BCE. Subsequently, in the third quarter of the same millennium, a network of large macro-territorial centers would develop (Valencina, Porto Torrâo, La Pijotilla) between the Guadiana and Guadalquivir. The millennium ends with a more complex structure that produces the destruction of Valencina (while Porto Torrâo and Pijotilla remain) and the appearance of other intermediate centers in territories that were once part of the periphery (Nocete 2001:146). However, this explanation of the

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transformation process in the southwest does not correspond with the evidence provided in absolute dating in various settlements. In addition, the recent discovery of new, large sized settlements in the Guadiana (San Blas and Perdigôes) serves to break up the organization of this macroterritorial structure. This is so, because although they are identified as peripheral centers of second order, and that a greater atomization of these macro-territories was produced, absolute dating demonstrates that the spatial organization of these large settlements was consolidated at the beginning of the III millennium BCE. By any mean, in line with the author’s idea, we would have to consider “centros políticos independientes e interperiféricos a las grandes estructuras territoriales3” (Nocete 2001:146) that formed, at least, at the same time as the “prime centers.” Aside from the interpretation of the existence of a state-type political structure and an initial classist society in a period as early as the III century BCE (evidence of which is difficult to demonstrate and is not shared by many pre-historians), the matter is that various theoretic proposals reinforce the idea that different structured territories in the southwest exist around the large settlements of La Pijotilla, Valencina, Porto Torrâo or Alcalar. The distance between these settlements is surprisingly similar. Moreover, some of the territories possibly measure the same as others throughout this peninsular quadrant. In regards to the internal dynamics of the territory (see Hurtado 1995, 1999), the occupation of the TTB occurred at the beginning of the III millennium BCE. At the second half of the IV millennium BCE, our region of analysis lacked practically of settlements. At that time, there were only indications of the occupation of megalithic groups (although there was a large scarcity of villages) that were distributed in the northern and southern zones of the Extremadura’s peneplain. These groups were located in ecologic/geologic surroundings of heights somewhat more elevated, surfacing rocks and land that was more adequate for an agropastoral economy. The few settlements that have been documented until now in our territory of study are mainly located around the Guadiana river zone, from where a strong occupation is produced of the interior lands of the TTB. The communities of the Copper Age begin to settle down next to the small rivers and streams that cross the region from north to south. This causes a dense colonization of the MGB and, consequently, a change in the landscape that now appears to be divided. The

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appropriation of rights to land in a closed space starts in this territory (Criado 1993:28).

Material culture patterning In regards to the sphere of production and distribution of resources in the territory, on certain occasions, it has been mentioned that agriculture would basically be the main wealth in this zone. Numerous hand mills and the amount of storage structures detected in La Pijotilla (independent from the ritual silos) suggest a process of surplus accumulation. The existence of a considerable variety and amount of prestigious objects inform us on the activities that, as a central point, would develop the mechanisms of the accumulation-distribution of products in relation to the territory. The large variety and quantity of products that are gathered on this settlement, (such as ceramics, Bell Beakers, ivory vessels, metal objects, gold sheets, exotic products, etc.), in addition to it being the production place for the largest number of symbolic objects know on the Iberian Peninsula, leads us to the idea that this is not only the main political and economic location in the territory, but also a ceremonial center. It is an important reference point of the ideological and religious dimensions of the Copper Age settlements in all of the MGB. The abundant production in La Pijotilla contrasts with the scarcity of raw materials that exist in the interior of the territory. The interior must have had to get them from location further away. The main copper supply points are situated to the south, in the Sierra Morena foothills, especially in the Llerena-Azuaga region to the southwest. However, our recent research, dedicated to the abiotic resource supply systems in this region, has allowed us to discover small copper mines situated along the periphery. Although mineral samples have not yet been subject to lead isotope analysis in order to compare them with the findings on archaeological sites, evidence of the mines has been found to the south, near the Guadajira River, where the largest number of fortifications are gathered. At the moment, analytical work has focused on the west, in the nearby zone of San Blas, that may have been a supplier of this material to La Pijotilla. The analysis of lead isotopes done on various samples of metal production in San Blas and La Pijotilla indicates an isotopic relation between the two locations. As previously mentioned, studying the technological variability in the space leads us to the identification of social groups, whose social

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borders/limits are determined by identifiable patterns within the archaeological register. In order to do so, various analytical chemical techniques have been used to examine the differences in technologies associated with the production of ceramic goods between the territories that are arranged around the centers of La Pijotilla and Porto Torrâo and its periphery, San Blas and Perdigôes. We have placed emphasis on identifying and characterizing the techniques that leave a visible print as well as those that do not leave any visible trace because this reflects the different aspects of identity of the producer and the consumer (Arnold 1985; Gosselein 1992, 2000; Longacre 1991). From the analysis of the variability of raw materials through the study of chemical composition, by means of WD-XRF (Wavelenth Dispersive X-Ray Fluorescence), on 103 ceramic fragments gathered on the sites of La Pijotilla, San Blas, Porto Torrâo and Perdigôes, a total of six compositional groups were identified using multivariate statistics (Hierarchical Cluster, Principal Component Analysis, Linear Discriminant Analysis). This can be interpreted as the fact that the existence of compositional variability in La Pijotilla (two groups) corresponds to the existence of two differentiated technical identities between themselves (Odriozola et al. 2008a). It also reveals that this phenomenon does not correspond with a time span, as demonstrated by the absolute dating of various Bell Beaker fragments belonging to the two groups (Odriozola et al. 2008). At the same time, we have seen that the pottery with “pastillas repujadas4” decoration (Hurtado and Amores 1982) recovered in the TTB all have the same chemical composition, indicating a possible distribution throughout the territory after its manufacture from one single center (Estrada et al. 1999). The reproducibility of the technical choices made during the selection, extraction, processing and firing processes of the raw material take place over a relatively large time span (Odriozola et al. 2008). This confirms that it is an aspect of the technical identity of communities that are highly stable over time and that the changes in segments of the Chaîne Opératoire are not frequent. As gathered by O.P. Gosselein (2000), individuals that can motivate or influence a change in the habits of the potters are restricted to those individuals that participate in the operative chain. Therefore, the adoption of new technologies would be frequent, basically, when a potter spatially relocated, changed supply sources or wanted to produce a new type of ceramics. This is the reason

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why the spatial distribution of these techniques reflects local/regional interaction networks. Within this ceramic group of 103 fragments, 86% is locally produced; that is to say, they belong to the technical system characteristic to the sites where they were found. Only 14% can be ascribed to technical systems form other sites that were studied. This 14% are mainly vessels decorated with international styles (Odriozola et al. 2008a), putting social interaction networks into practice on regional levels. These social interaction networks are active from the first moment in the Bell Beaker phase that corresponds to international styles. There is a possibility that social interaction networks were redirected towards other focuses of Bell Beaker digression. Ceramic firing is an aspect of production that is similar to the characteristics of selection, extraction and processing of raw material because it is an activity that is based on community, flexibility and contrary to change. This makes it a key aspect of the technical identity of the communities, equally reflecting local/regional interaction networks. Ceramic firing is decisive in obtaining the desired color of a ceramic piece. In San Blas, all of the regional style Bell Beaked vessels have a very similar color (CieLab* [42,17,10]). Only some vessels diverge from this standard color and in those cases, they are highly linked to the type of firing and not to the percentage of iron in the clay, as stated for the Bell Beaker productions of southeastern France (Covertini 1996). The percentage of iron in these Bell Beaker vessels can vary by more than 6% without altering the standard color (Odriozola 2007). This contrasts the idea that there is a scarce interdependence between different sequences in the operation chain. Evidence that only one technical system exists in San Blas is supported if we examine the firing temperature of bone inlayed Bell Beaker vessels. By means of physico-chemical transformations that inlayed bones suffered during the firing we can calculate vessels firing temperatures (Odriozola and Martinez-Blanes 2007), an average temperature of 777±54 ºC has been calculated for San Blas Bell Beaker productions. On this basis we can observe that all of the vessels from San Blas are processed by identical means in regards to raw materials and firing, allowing us to identify the vessels that were imported or exported from this location to other settlements in the TTB.

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At the same time, it has been confirmed that in La Pijotilla two technical identities existed in terms of the selection, extraction and processing of raw materials. These two technical identities can be found in firing, where two different customs were used when operating the ovens, a material reflection of the firing temperature of bone inlayed pottery, with an average temperature of 771±45 ºC and 820±15 ºC (Odriozola and Martinez-Blanes 2007). In addition, there is evidence of the fact that two highly standardized technical systems of ceramic production existed, implying a labor specialization within this macroterritorial center that, as observed in the case of the “pastillas repujadas”, would distribute ceramics throughout the TTB territory. We have studied the type of inlay that is present in many of the incise style Bell Beaker vessels. It turns out that for the MGB, specifically in the TTB, there is a very high volume of appearance of this type of inlay. In spite of this, we must keep in mind that the conservation of these fillings is very complicated and depends on the rainfall patterns and acidity of the ground. It is therefore probable that at least the majority of the incised styled Bell Beakers were decorated with white colored inlay. This was done in order to contrast with other regions in the peninsula such as Ciempozuelos (Madrid, Spain) (Blasco 1994), “conjunto cerámico PA 45.01” (Prieto Martínez 1998) Galicia (Spain), Valle del Guadalquivir (Andalucía, Spain) (Lazarich 1999), as well as European regions such as France (Constantin 2003). From the study of 44 Bell Beaker vessels from 10 sites in the MGB that were inlayed with white paste (Odriozola and Hurtado 2007; Odriozola and Martinez-Blanes 2007; Odriozola 2008), we were able to prove that 75% of these fillings are bone based and only 11.4% of the vessels are inlayed with calcium carbonate. The evidence that more than 50% of the vessels inlayed with CaCO3 have appeared in La Pijotilla, revealing decorations, colorations and finishes that are not typical of the zone (Odriozola 2007) and the appearance of a large number of objects made with ivory (perforated plaques and decorated vessels) reinforces the idea previously proposed by D.L. Clarke (1976). Clarke proposed the idea of a Beaker network where the distribution of prestigious objects was carried out from nodes of communication. Initially, we thought that the use of bones, in detriment to other technical choices such as calcium carbonate, would serve to define the technical identity of the TTB and, therefore, its social boundaries on the

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basis of the spatial distribution in opposition to neighboring regions such as the Meseta or the Guadalquivir Valley where the decorations are mainly made with CaCO3. However, recently we have confirmed that bone based decorations exist in Perdigôes and that in the zone of the Duero Medio (El Pago de la Calzadilla, Almenara de Adaja, Valladolid, (Odriozola, in press) the two technical systems coexist. The fact that features of technical identity of the TTB appear in Perdigôes should not seem strange, if, as we have seen in this settlement, it forms a part of the social interaction networks that develop between these two regions in accordance with Bell Beaker vessel exchange. We should also keep in mind that some of the vessels with bone based decorations come from San Blas and that both sites are peripheries of the macro-territorial centers, being, a priori, more permeable to technical influences. These social interaction networks would exist since periods previous to the Bell Beaker one, but it would precisely be in the Bell Beaker period when a Pan European dimension is adopted. Contact and exchange between the elite initially occur with the beginning of an individual hierarchization that coincides with the adoption of the Bell Beaker on behalf of the European elite of the Copper Age. With this adoption, an us would be represented, made up of the elite or outstanding members of these social groups who materialize their identity through a specific pottery style in order to differentiate themselves from the remainder of the group, whom they consider to be the them. As a result of the growing differences between members of the group and the increased socioeconomic complexity, the Bell Beaker “unifies” those who associate themselves with it (Hernando 2002: 160). As pointed out by A. Hernando (2002: 159-162), the identity of any person at this moment could not be individual because the degree of socioeconomic development is not sufficient enough to establish distance between an interior I and an objectified exterior reality using rational explanations. By these means, the socioeconomic differences of these trans-egalitarian societies (Hayden 1995) are demonstrated by narrowing the distance that separates them from a third party through material, social and identity differentiation with the country people of their group. Since these groups need to feel like a part of a community that reinforces them and gives them meaning, the separation in their own group is carried out by linking the group to another social group: their equals.

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One example can be observed in the case of the “limestone eyed idol” represented by different styles in the south-western peninsula, in the sense that it is possible to ascribe diverse variants to its distribution that exist in certain regions. Regardless of their common motive, each one identifies itself with a different stylistic and compounding tendency. Similarly, regions such as the Portuguese Estremadura, Algarve, Guadalquivir Valley and Middle Guadiana River Basin all use a certain way of representation in order to give shape to the same idea (Hurtado 2008). As proposed by some authors, this evidence could be used as an additional resource in defining cultural limits through material diagnosis (DeAtley and Findlow 1984).

Figure 9-3. Distribution of different types of “eyed idols” in the territories of the Southwest, according to Thiessen polygons as applied in the biggest settlements.

The stylistic analysis and its geographic distribution could be useful in establishing territorial indicators, as demonstrated in primitive tribal societies (Hodder 1982). In our case, the “eyed idol” is a motif, made up of eyes, eyebrows and facial tattoos that have the same significance in all of the southwest despite the fact that it is stylistically represented or interpreted in different ways according to different geographic regions (Figure 9-3). It is possible that there is a conscious purpose in the differentiation with the intention of marking a territorial identity. This seems to be so when the number and concentration of specimens made in

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the same "style" are observed in a certain zone. The fact that other specimens typical of other regions are located in the zone does not invalidate the hypothesis. On the contrary, this validates the hypothesis, since it demonstrates the knowledge of other means of representation in spite of the insistence on the symbol standing out in accordance with a determined style of their own, with which the communities of that territory identify.

Figure 9-4. Distribution of “eyed idol” and “anthropomorphic figurine” types in the TTB. Line: ypothetical eastern limit of TTB territory.

The determination of stylistic variants permits other applications. The recent findings of the fortified settlement of San Blas (Cheles, Badajoz) (Hurtado 2004), located along the Guadiana river and relatively far from Tierra de Barros, has allowed us to relate it to this territory through the analytic comparison of archaeological materials. Within these materials, an “eyed idol” appeared that is typical of the variant of the Cuenca Media del Guadiana. The presence of this idol in the periphery of the TTB, just at the boundary that marks the Guadiana river, which separates this zone and the Portuguese Alentejo, is interesting. To this regard, the hypothesis is determined that the central Alentejo is structured as another territory around the great settlement of Porto Torrâo, which constitutes the central location, while the Perdigôes would be a secondary peripheral center

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(Nocete 2001:136; Valera 2006). This last settlement is situated near the settlement of San Blas. However, findings produced in recent excavations reveal certain differences in the types and characteristics of the artifacts, which compel us to contemplate the possibility that these differences are due to the fact that we are dealing with two different territories. The fact that the “eyed idol” is stylistically expressed in different ways in each region coincides with the moment in which the communities are completely settled in defined territories, with an articulated pattern of implementation in function with centers of superior rank, where they demonstrate signs of territorial identity. The “anthropomorphic idol” would be the last demonstration of the dynamic process of symbolic representation in the repertoire of idols in the first productive societies and can be related to the appearance of the elite and social hierarchies. We are dealing with the least numerous of all symbolic demonstrations and those that require a longer amount of time and more abilities for the elaboration of all that are known between the IV and III millennium BCE, especially the work of figurines made from limestone. The lack of formal and stylistic differentiation throughout a large area, such as the southern peninsula, would support A. Hernando’s (2002) hypothesis that Bell Beaker pottery are representations that have the function of identifying the pre-eminent position of certain individuals within their social group and in the face of parallel groups of power. In addition, we must add the case of the idol that serves as a tool to legitimize its status and make it sacred, elevating the individual to a religious category. The individual therefore serve as an intermediary between the society and mythical beliefs while reinforcing their power. In spite of the repetition of this stylistic type in the southern peninsula, it is important to point out the peculiarity of the material with which the pieces are manufactured in this territory TTB. They are all manufactured with lithic material (limestone or marble in general), with the exception of one piece manufactured with bone or ivory. In the remaining regions of the south of Spain, the contrary occurs: almost all are of bone or ivory, with the exception of one that is produced with alabaster. In addition, the largest number of “anthropomorphic idol” figurines on the Iberian Peninsula has been found in the MGB. This leads to the idea that a concept of idiosyncrasy is an additional characteristic of the cultural identity of this territory. Recently, various anthropomorphic idols have been found on different settlements located outside of the line that delimits the fortified sites along the eastern strip of Tierra de Barros

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(TTB) (Figure 9-4). If we accept the pattern of a synchronized settlement and that the line of fortification did actually make up a territorial boundary, the appearance of new idols outside of this space could be due to the permeability of borders to cultural exchanges or, because they are meeting points between adjoining territories. It could also be explained by the simple phenomena of emulation that is established between neighboring regions, mainly with symbolic artifacts, and other prestigious objects, in addition to new technological advances. In the case of state borders, Lightfoot and Martinez (1995) highlight the presence of emblematic artifacts and other elements of iconography in the outlying areas of the main territory. It is obvious that this is due to other causes related to economic and political imbalances and dependencies that do not necessarily coincide with those that are applied to pre-state societies.

Endnotes 1 “very special way, the subsistence production territories of Los Millares [...] while carrying out a great deal of pressure on the movement areas of the megalithic areas of the surroundings”. 2 “the existence of a symbolic and scenic context inherent to a mentally organized space in relation to a territorial identity that comes to be in a network of fortifications”. 3 “the large territorial structures as inter-peripheral and independent political centers” 4 “pastillage repoussée” in french.

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Constantin, C. 2000. A propos des décors des céramiques protohistoriques incrustes de pates colorées. Bulletin de la Société Préhistorique Française 100(1): 135-139. Criado, F. 1993. Límites y posibilidades de la Arqueología del Paisaje. Spal 2: 9-55. Covertini, F. 1996. Production et signification de la céramique campaniforme à la fin du 3ème millénaire av.J.-C. dans le Sud et le Centre Ouest de la France et en Suisse occidentale. BAR International Series 656, Oxford: Archaeopress. De Atley, S. P. and F. J. Findlow (eds.), 1984. Exploring the Limits: Frontiers and Boundaries in Prehistory. BAR International Series 223. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Diaz-Andreu, M. 2005. Introduction. In M. Dìaz-Andreu, S. Lucy, S. Babic and D. Edwards (eds.), The archaeology of identity: Approaches to gender, age, status, ethnicity and religion. London: Routledge. Diaz Del Rio, P. 2008. El contexto social de las agregaciones de población durante el Calcolítico Peninsular. Era Arqueología 8: 128-137. Enríquez, J. J. 1990. El Calcolítico o Edad del Cobre de la Cuenca extremeña del Guadiana. Los poblados. Publicaciones del Museo Arqueológico Provincial de Badajoz 2. Badajoz. Estrada, F., M. A. Ontalba, M. A. Respaldiza, P. Perez and V. Hurtado, 1999. Técnicas nucleares aplicadas al estudio de cerámicas del Calcolítico extremeño. In J. Capel (ed.), Arqueometría y Arqueología. Actas del I Congreso Nacional de Arqueometría, pp. 77-88. Granada: Universidad de Granada. Garcia Sanjuán, L. and V. Hurtado, 1997. Los inicios de la jerarquización social en el suroeste de la Península Ibérica (c.2500-1700 ane). Problemas conceptuales y empíricos. Saguntum, 30, vol. II. :135-152. Gailey, C. H. and T. Patterson, 1988. State Formation and uneven development. In J. Gledhill, B. Bender and M.T. Larson (eds.), State and Society: the emergence and development of social hierarchy and political centralization, pp. 71-90, London: Unwin Hyman. Gosselein, O.P. 1992. Technology and style: potters and pottery among Bafia of Cameroon. MAN (ns) 27(3): 557-586. —. 1998. Social and technical identity in a clay crystal ball. In M.T. Stark (ed.), The Archaeology of Social Boundaries, pp. 78-106. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press. —. 2000. Materializing identities: an African perspective. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory 7(3):187–217.

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Hayden, B. 1995. Pathways to power: Principles for creating Socioecomic inequaities. In T. D. Price and G. M. Feinman (eds.), Foundations of social inequalities, pp. 15-86. New York: Plenum Press. Hernando, A. 2002. Arqueologìa de la Identidad. Madrid: AKAL. Hodder, I. 1982. Symbols in Action: Ethnoarchaeological Studies in Material Culture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hurtado, V. 1995. Interpretación sobre la dinámica cultural en la Cuenca Media del Guadiana (IV-II milenios A.N.E.). Extremadura Arqueológica V, 53-80. —. 1999. Los inicios de la complejización social y los inicios del campaniforme en Extremadura. Spal 8, 47-83. —. 2000a. El proceso de transición a la Edad del Bronce en la Cuenca Media del Guadiana. Ruptura o continuidad. In Tercer Congreso de Arqueología Peninsular vol. 4: 381-397. —. 2004. San Blas. The discovery of a large Chalcolithic settlement by the Guadiana River. Journal of Iberian Archaeology 6: 93-116. —. 2008. Ídolos, estilos y territorios de los primeros campesinos en el sur peninsular. In C. Cacho Quesada, R. Maicas Ramos, J. A. Martos and Mª I. Martinez (Coord), Acercándonos al pasado. Prehistoria en 4 actos. Museo Arqueológico Nacional and CSIC. Edited in CD and website of the MAN: http://man.mcu.es/museo/JornadasSeminarios/acercandonos_al_pasado .html Hurtado, V. and F. Amores, 1982. Relaciones culturales entre el sudeste francés y La Pijotilla (Badajoz) en el Calcolítico: las pastillas repujadas y el campaniforme cordado. Habis 13, 189-209. Hurtado, V. and P. Mondéjar, 2008. Prospecciones en Tierra de Barros (Badajoz). Los asentamientos del III milenio a.n.e. Homenaje a Pilar Acosta. Spal 16. Hurtado, V., P. Mondéjar and J.C. Pecero, 2000. Excavaciones en la Tumba 3 de La Pijotilla. Extremadura Arqueológica VIII. Hom. A Elias Dieguez Luengo: 249-266. Kristiansen, K. 2001. Europa antes de la Historia. Los fundamentos prehistóricos de la Europa de la Edad del Bronce y la primera Edad del Hierro. Barcelona: Peninsula. Lazarich, M. 1999. El Campaniforme en Andalucía Occidental. PhD Thesis on microfilm, Cádiz: Universidad de Cádiz. Lemonnier, P. 1986. The study of material culture today: towards an Anthropology of Technical Systems. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 5: 147-186.

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CONTRIBUTORS

Patrick Daly, Asia Research Institute, National University of Singapore. Szilvia Fábián, Field Service for Cultural Heritage, Hungary. Attila Gyucha, Field Service for Cultural Heritage, Hungary. Mette Roesgaard Hansen, Museum for Thy and Vester Hanherred, Denmark. Kimberly Kasper, Department Massachusetts, Amherst.

of

Anthropology,

University

of

Margaret R. Morris, Department of Anthropology, University of Wyoming, Laramie. Carlos P. Odriozola, Instituto de Ciencia de Materiales de Sevilla. William A. Parkinson, Department of Anthropology, Field Museum of Natural History, Chicago. Victor Hurtado Pérez, Departamento de Prehistoria y Arqueologia, Universidad de Sevilla. Gill Plunkett, School of Geography, Archaeology and Palaeoecology, Queen’s University, Belfast. Roderick B. Salisbury, Department of Anthropology, University at Buffalo, State University of New York Gábor Serlegi, Archaeological Institute of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, Budapest. Tina L. Thurston, Department of Anthropology, University at Buffalo, State University of New York.

292

Contributors

António Carlos Valera, ERA Arqueologia S.A. Jørgen Westphal, Heritage Agency of Denmark, Ancient Monuments, Copenhagen. Richard W. Yerkes, Department of Anthropology, Ohio State University.

INDEX 1

14

C calibration, 43, 49 19th century, 67, 102, 107 2 2.5 dimensional, 21 3 3D, 7, 20, 21, 32, 36, 37 A Aarhus, 68 activity areas, 104, 137, 145, 169, 175, 178, 179, 183 aeolian, 141 aerial photography, 7, 28, 43, 108 agency, 8, 17, 245 agent, 268 aggregation model, 236, 237 aggregation, settlement, 71, 233, 236, 242 agricultural, 165, 166, 168, 175 agricultural intensification, 77 agriculture, 4, 48, 116, 278 agro-pastoral, 278 Alpine, 221, 222, 223 Alpine lake dwellings, 218 amphitheatre, 251 AMS, 211 Anglo-American archaeology, 6 anthropomorphic idol, 285, 286 antiquities, 66 Arbon Bleiche, 221, 223 archaeobotanical, 165, 166, 169 archaeobotanical evidence, 54 archaeological culture, 66 archaeological region, 66 archaeometry, 255 architecture, 54, 166, 167, 233, 244, 246, 248, 249, 251, 257

architecture, monumental, 240 Árpád, 203 Árpád Period, 205 Arrhenius, 69 art, 248 astronomical, 252 Atlantic, 217, 218 Atlantic Westerly Jet, 219 Austria, 5, 222 Autarchy, 234 axe, 213 B Baden, 202, 203, 205, 206, 209, 210, 211, 213, 215, 216, 220, 222 Balatonederics, 220 Balatonkeresztes-Réti-dĦlĘ, 206 Balatonkeresztúr, 210 Balatonkeresztúr-Réti-dĦlĘ, 201 Balaton-Lasinja, 202 Balkan lithics, 139 Balkans, 131, 137 Banat, 136 Banat flint, 139 barley, 43, 54, 170, 175, 179, 180, 182 bastion, 257, 274 beehive quern, 51 Békés County, 130, 133, 139, 166 Békés-Povád, 142 Bell Beaker, 276, 282, 285 Bell Beakers, 278, 281 bell-shaped pits, 148 Berettyó River, 101, 111, 136 Berettyó-Körös, 141 Berettyóújfalu-Herpály, 124, 137, 138 Berkshire Downs, 23 Blytt-Sernander, 217

294 Bodrog, 136 bog body, 50 Boleráz, 205, 206, 209, 215 botanical, 172 bottom-up perspective, 71 boundaries, 3, 9, 24, 50, 74, 78, 84, 98, 115, 118, 165, 167, 249, 266, 268, 269, 273, 275, 282 Bourdieu, 80, 90 bronze, 45, 49, 78, 82 Bronze Age, 42, 55, 79, 166, 170, 234, 241 Bükk Mountains, 139 burial, 78, 80, 82, 104, 106, 137, 138, 142, 145, 148, 183, 255 C Caherkine Lough, 44, 51 Carpathian Basin, 4, 101, 116, 131, 217 catchment, 44, 198, 199, 218, 221 catchment analysis, 2, 19 cattle, 54, 100, 116, 120, 215 causewayed enclosures, 84, 85 Celtic, 202 cemeteries, 100, 133, 138, 153 centralized, 118, 137 central-place models, 2 centre/periphery, 250 ceramics, 24, 27, 31, 118, 136, 146, 147, 148, 157, 168, 169, 255, 256, 278, 280, 281 ceremonial objects, 45 chaîne opératoires, 267, 268 Chalcolithic, 233, 235, 241, 243 Chenopodium, 170, 175, 179, 188, 192, 195 chernozem, 109, 113 chronozone, 217 climatic change, 100, 116, 214, 216, 218, 220, 223 climatic factors, 53, 109, 199, 201 climatic optimum, 217 climatic oscillations, 220 climatic zones, 221 Clonfinlough, 45

Index cognitive, 233, 246, 247, 249, 254, 255, 258 community, 130, 133, 140, 142, 155, 157, 165, 168, 234, 267, 268, 280, 283 competition, 118, 120, 234 context, 6, 9, 17, 22, 51, 66, 68, 83, 87, 108, 148, 169, 170, 235, 237, 244, 246, 251, 255, 268, 275 copper, 79, 118, 139, 273 Copper Age, 98, 100, 101, 102, 106, 142, 234, 269, 278, 282 core/periphery, 238 cosmology, 248, 249, 251, 252, 254, 256 COVERAGES, 25 craft specialization, 156 craftsmen, 267, 268 crannogs, 53, 59 cremation, 81, 138 Crna Bara, 145 cromlech, 252 CsĘszhalom, 99, 118, 125, 126, 130, 136, 158, 162, 167 cultivation practices, 117 culture, 83, 132, 217, 246, 269 culture-area, 5 culture-circle. See Kulturkreis culture-historic, 71, 72 culture-historical, 5, 6, 131 D Danicorum Monumentorum, 66 Danube River, 166, 198, 199 data aggregation, 22 data management, 20 database, 24 daub, 104, 146, 148, 149, 152, 155, 169 decoration, 83, 130, 134, 140, 209, 279 defense, 235, 237, 273, 274 defensive, 43, 45 demographical growth, 239 dendrochronology, 221

Reimagining Regional Analysis Denmark, 4, 64, 65, 67, 76 Dévaványa Plain, 111, 112 dichotomy, 16, 31, 244, 245, 252 diffusion, 5, 114 Digimap, 25 digital elevation model, 25 diorites, 256 ditch, 137, 144, 147, 154, 235, 241, 244, 252 ditches, 24, 43, 84, 104, 137, 145, 150, 151, 154, 156, 158 ditches, circular, 103, 251 domestic, 43, 51, 165, 167, 168, 244, 246 domesticated, plants, 175 domesticates, 175, 183 domus, 183 Dowris Phase, 45, 55 Dún Aonghasa, 43 dwelling, 18, 137, 148, 166, 244, 245, 249, 255, 257 E Early Bronze Age, 78, 81, 112, 202 Early Copper Age, 99, 101, 109, 113, 114, 115, 116, 118, 119, 130, 131, 132, 140, 165 Early Iron Age, 50, 51, 55 Early Neolithic, 86, 102 earthworks, 17, 21, 24, 28, 31, 43, 50, 55 economic change, 53 economy, 49, 54, 55, 98, 116, 121, 133, 215, 275, 278 einkorn, 170, 175 embodied, 78, 80, 84 emmer, 170, 175 enclosure, 51, 85, 133, 140, 157, 235, 241, 244, 252, 256 English Heritage, 28 environmental reconstruction, 9 ethnography, 5 EU, 87 exchange, 79, 133, 134, 139, 140, 157, 276, 282, 286 eyed idol, 285

295

F farmsteads, 117, 133, 138, 142, 157 faunal, 25, 116, 120, 157, 214, 224 feasting, 155, 157 figurine, 284, 285, 286 finger-impressed cordons, 209 fish, 148 flint, 85, 139, 213 flood model, 200 flotation, 172 food processing, 169, 183 Foranderlige Landskaber (Changing Landscapes), 69 forest regeneration, 52 fortification, 104, 115, 118, 154, 234, 272 fortified, 114 foundation trench, 106 fractal geometry, 7, 10 fruit, 180 fulachta fiadh, 42, 45 funerary context, 256 funerary pottery, 256 funerary practices, 255 Funnel Beaker, 84, 89 G gabbros, 256 gallery forests, 117 gender, 78, 138, 266 geochemical. See soil chemistry geochemistry, 144 Geographic Information Systems (GIS), 16 geological, 218, 220, 221, 223, 254, 256 geology, 24, 254, 256 geomorphology, 213 geophysical, 72, 106 Giddens, 18, 34, 260 Gilman’s redistribution model, 236 GIS, 18, 74, 172 globular, 210 goat, 215 gold, 44, 45, 139, 278 Gosden, 17

296 Gråfjell project, 70 Great Hungarian Plain, 4, 98, 99, 129, 165 Greenland ice-cores, 219, 220 groundwater, 200 Guadajira River, 279 Guadiana basin, 235 Guadiana River, 270 H habitus, 267 Habsburg, 107 Hagestad Project, 68 Hallstatt, 48, 49 Hastorf, 170 hearth, 104, 137, 145, 156, 168, 178, 180, 183 herding, 113 heritage management, 8, 18, 129 Herpály, 99, 118, 130, 136, 139, 167 heterarchical, 54 hierarchy, 53, 71, 74, 136, 238, 248, 250, 257, 276 hillforts, 23, 28, 43, 44, 45, 48 hoard, 43, 44, 45, 51, 78, 79, 82 HódmezĘvásárhely-Gorzsa, 123, 137, 160 Holocene, 101, 107, 108, 109, 112, 200, 217, 219 homogenization, 118 Horgen, 222 house clusters, 114, 115, 118, 119, 154 house, destruction, 146, 155 household, 4, 156, 165, 167, 168, 170, 176, 181, 183 houses, 42, 85, 106, 133, 137, 143, 145, 148, 152, 167, 168, 200, 202, 205, 248, 257 human action, 17, 80, 247, 268 human/animal relationships, 255 Hungarian Archaeological Topography, 130

Index Hungary, 3, 4, 98, 101, 129, 130, 133, 138, 143, 165, 166, 197, 217, 222 hydrological regulation, 102, 107, 108, 113, 198, 199 hydrology, 107, 108, 113, 115 hydromorphic soil, 109 I Iberia, 233, 235, 236, 238, 241, 244, 257 Iberian Peninsula, 9, 269, 286 identity, 78, 155, 244, 267, 279, 283 idol, 283, 284, 285 IKONOS, 7 impressed dots, 210 incised herringbone pattern, 209, 222 Indo-European, 100 inductively coupled plasma spectroscopy, 75 infant, 106, 147, 148 inhumation, 81, 203 interdisciplinary research, 68 intra-site, 7, 33, 69, 131, 132, 134, 165, 167, 169, 170, 172, 183 invasion, 115 IRDISI, 20 Ireland, 38, 42, 45 Iron Age, 23, 31, 39, 49, 54, 74, 78, 116 ivory, 278 J Jutland, 72, 76, 77, 85, 89, 90, 92, 96 K Kernel Density Estimation, 172 KDE, 174, 179, 180, 183 kiln, 104, 145, 168 Kis-Balaton, 220 Kis-Sárrét, 108, 112 Knockaulin, 50 Körös region, 116

Reimagining Regional Analysis Körös Regional Archaeological Project, 4, 13, 98, 102, 125, 131, 133, 161, 166, 184, 186 Körös River, 3, 101 Körös Valley, 101, 109 Körös-Berettyó region, 141 Körösladány-Bikeri, 103, 104, 147, 156 Kulturkreis, 5, 67 L La Pijotilla, 278 La Tène, 50, 52, 55, 202, 204 Lake Annecy, 219 Lake Balaton, 197, 198, 200 Lake Constance, 221 landscape, 3, 7, 16, 17, 49, 86, 116, 133, 154, 168, 245, 248, 249, 251, 269 Langobards, 203 Late Bronze Age, 39, 42, 51, 104, 113, 144, 148 Late Copper Age, 170, 201 Late Iron Age, 52, 55, 76, 144, 202 Late Iron Age Lull, 52 Late Neolithic, 98, 99, 101, 109, 111, 114, 116, 119, 130, 132, 142, 153, 154, 156, 165, 221, 222, 233 Lengyel, 157 levees, 117 limestone, 283, 285 Limfjord, 79 limnological, 220 limnoquartzite, 139 lineages, 156 lithic, 100, 102, 116, 118, 139, 148, 156, 286 lithics, 139 lithology, 254 local community, 83, 154, 157 local identity, 79, 82, 255 localism, 234 localized practice, 78 loess, 141, 147, 149, 200, 201, 205, 213, 218, 223

297

long-distance specialists, 139 longhouse, 103, 146 longhouses, 119, 147, 154 loom, 137 loom weights, 104, 145, 156 Loughnashade, 39, 43, 54 lugs, 136 M macro-regional, 4 magnetic anomalies, 105 magnetic survey, 144 magnetometry, 70, 144, 147 Magyarország Régészeti Topográfiája MRT. See Hungarian Archaeological Topography Mahr, 39 malacological, 218 map-based approaches, 2 marble, 286 Maros Fan, 106, 109, 112, 114, 116, 118, 119 Maros River, 107 material culture, 6, 18, 23, 78, 87, 98, 118, 169, 267, 273, 278 materialistic, 234 Medieval, 53, 75, 76, 78, 107, 205 megalith, 66, 84, 85, 86 megalithic, 85, 251, 257, 278 megalithic tombs, 84 Mesolithic, 70, 86 metallurgy, 234, 255 metalwork, 45 methodological individualism, 6 MezĘberény-Bódis-major, 149, 150, 155 micro-region, 106, 110, 114 Micro-regional, 4 Middle Ages, 205 Middle Bronze Age, 106, 202 Middle Copper Age, 202 Middle Neolithic, 84, 106, 140 migration, 5, 115, 120, 266 Migration period, 106 Monsaraz Hill, 251

298 monumental, 51 Mooghaun, 39, 43 Mooghaun Lough, 51 Moravia, 222 mortuary patterns, 130, 138 mortuary practices, 5, 100, 132, 134 multi-generational, 156 multi-scalar, 3, 18 multi-scalar approach, 4, 98, 121 N Nagyberek, 201, 213 Nagy-Sárrét, 108 national traditions, 71, 87, 89 Navan, 50 necropolis, 251 Neolithic, 38, 52, 84, 98, 100, 102, 134, 241, 242 networks, 17, 18, 79, 139, 282 New Archaeology, 5 Norway, 70 nuclear family, 137, 183 nucleation, 114, 120, 140 nucleation, settlement, 136 nuts, 175, 179, 180 O oats, 54 obrovci, 137 obsidian, 139 Okány-Futás, 106, 149, 155, 158 Oldcroghan, 51 Ole Worm, 66 Ordinance Survey, 25 ore, 102, 116, 139 Ovcharovo, 139 oven, 104, 137, 156, 168, 202, 203 Oxfordshire, 23 oxygen isotope record, 219 P palaeochannel, 108, 110, 119, 143, 149 palaeodietary analysis, 255 palaeoenvironment, 38, 53, 98, 108, 109

Index palaeohydrology, 9 Palaeohydrology, 133 palaeomeander, 103, 112 paleochannel. See palaeochannel paleoenvironment. See palaeoenvironment paleohydrological, 107 paleohydrological model, 109 paleohydrological reconstruction, 108, 114 paleomeander. See palaeomeander palisade, 103, 105, 143, 144, 147, 155, 156 palynology, 59, 86, 217 paradigm shift, 6, 71 passive survey, 65, 67, 72, 88 pastoralism, 51, 100, 116 pedestrian survey, 69, 70, 72, 75 Peer Polity Interaction, 238 Perdigões, 256 performance, 244 Pfyn, 222 phenomenology, 244, 248 phosphate, 69, 75, 104, 105, 144, 149 Piaget, 246 Pijotilla, 236, 239 pit, Copper Age, 105, 147 pits, 17, 24, 27, 43, 51, 85, 104, 148, 150, 152, 168, 169, 202, 203, 205, 206, 213, 257 pits, rubbish, 215, 216 pits, storage, 157, 181, 200, 202, 213 Pleistocene, 11, 107, 109, 110, 112, 141 Poland, 139 political organization, 137, 156 political structure, 277 pollen analysis, 215 Pollen analysis, 38 Pomponius Mela, 53 Portugal, 234 Pósár, 111 post-depositional, 183 postholes, 24, 103, 148, 202

Reimagining Regional Analysis pottery, 255 praxis, 74, 269 precipitation, 199 predictive modelling, 19 predictive site modelling, 19 prehistoric cultures, 72 preservation, 169, 183 pre-state societies, 286 prestige goods, 74, 240, 278 Proto-Tiszapolgár, 158 Q Quartzodiorite, 256 R Randsborg, 65, 66 Rathcroghan, 50 Rathgall, 43 raths, 53 Ratzel, 5 raw materials, 100, 118, 139, 140, 170, 256, 268, 273, 278, 281 region, 65 definition, 3 regional scale, 167 regional survey, 65, 130 regionalized behavior, 78 relationships, 17, 274 remote sensing, 69 residential mobility, 115 Ridgeway, 28 Riksantikvarieämbetet (RAÄ), or Swedish National Heritage Board, 70 ringforts. See raths ritual, 45, 50, 78, 80, 83, 137, 153, 254, 255, 257, 273, 276, 278 Roman, 20, 39, 52, 199, 203 Roman Iron Age, 74 romanticized past, 66 roundel, 157 roundhouses, 43 S sacred, 244 sacrificial pit, 203, 215, 224

299

Sahlins, 140 Sarkad Lake, 108, 112 Sarmatian, 104 Sarup, 85 satellite images, 7, 199 scalar stress, 100 scale, 4, 17, 131, 234, 273 schist, 256 Secondary Product Revolution, 234 secondary state, 76 sedimentological, 218, 222 Segsbury Camp, 23 Segsbury Castle, 27 Selevac, 140, 170 semi-subterranean houses, 203 settlement clusters, 114, 117, 154 settlement hierarchy, 136, 234 settlement network, 101, 114, 237, 243, 251, 252, 256 settlement networks, 240 settlement organization, 154, 165, 213 settlement pattern, 53, 142, 156 settlement space, 138 settlement structure, 132, 155, 201, 214, 221, 223 settlement variability, 154 settlements networks, 234 SHAPEFILES, 25 sheep, 215 Shepton Mallet, 20 sickles, 82 Sjælland Survey, 84 Skåne, 68 Slovakia, 99, 136, 139, 222 Sluggan Bog, 51 social dynamics, 166 social hierarchy, 39, 53, 234, 241, 275 social identity, 267 social inequality, 238 social interaction, 282 social memory, 2, 155, 257 social organization, 98, 114, 158, 275 social practice, 2, 17, 18, 23, 156

300 social production, 275 social structure, 138, 255 social structures, 80 social units, 168 socioeconomic, 121 sociotechnical aggregates, 269 soil chemical, 104, See Soil Chemistry soil chemistry, 76, 86, 87 geochemical, 72, 133, 157 geochemistry, 68, 69 soil chemsitry geochemical, 102 soil degradation, 42 Somerset, 20, 33 Somogy, 201 spatial analyses, 19 spatial database, 76 spatial dataset, 25 spatial dependency, 239 spatial organization, 84, 101, 102, 106, 115, 119, 131, 137, 238, 246, 248, 252, 277 spatial patterns, 9, 152, 169 spatial statistics, 2 spatial variability, 169 spindle whorls, 145, 213 Spondylus, 139 SQL, 26, 33 State University of New York at Buffalo, 73 statistics, 279 stratigraphic, 22 stratigraphy, 21, 22, 104, 105, 115, 119, 222 structural change, 134 structuration, 17, 18, 22 structure, 18, 39, 53, 54, 55, 245 style, 82, 83 stylistic boundaries, 71 Subboreal, 217 sub-surface IT, 20 surface survey, 67, 102 surplus, 237, 239, 273, 278 survey, 75 Swartkrans, 21

Index Sweden, 4, 68, 70, 72 swine, 215, 216 pig, 116, 181 sword, 83 symbolic, 6, 81, 236, 240, 244, 249, 255, 258, 269, 278, 285 symbolic elements, 248 symbolic interaction, 83 symbolic meaning, 82 Szarvas, 142 Szarvas-Kovácshalom, 142 Szeghalom, 139 Szeghalom- Kovácshalom, 142 T taphonomy, 169 Tara, 50 technical identity, 267, 268, 280, 282 technical style, 268 tegula, 203 tell, 103, 106, 114, 117, 118, 133, 137, 139, 143, 154, 156, 167 tell-like mounds, 137 tells, 101 tephra, 46 terra pise, 147 territory, 154, 234 tertiary clays, 256 Thy, 75, 78, 79 Thy Archaeological Project, 72, 85 Thy’s Iron Age project, iii, 73 Tilley, 17 Tisza, iii, 99, 101, 107, 109, 118, 122, 123, 130, 136, 137, 139, 141, 142, 155, 159, 160, 161, 162, 167, 184, 186 Tisza River, 136, 140, 166 Tiszaföldvár-ÚjtemetĘ, 156 Tiszapolgár, 99, 102, 106, 112, 116, 130, 137, 155, 167, 172 Tiszapolgár-Basatanya, 138 Toar Bog, 51 Tokaj, 139 tool, 285 tower, 257

Reimagining Regional Analysis trade, 49, 100, 113, 133, 139, See exchange tradition, 153, 154, 155, 156, 165, 168, 245, 257, 267 Transdanubia, 4, 121, 218, 221, 223, 227, 230 trans-egalitarian societies, 240, 283 transformation, 101, 102, 115, 121, 131, 138, 165, 168, 246, 255, 277 transition, 49, 76, 77, 98, 99, 101, 113, 119, 120, 129, 130, 132, 134, 153, 167, 183, 222, 249 transitional period, 98, 156, 218, 222 Transylvania, 102, 136, 166 TRB. See Funnel Beaker tribal, 51, 100, 274, 276, 284 túaithe, 53 typological, 215 typology, 205 U Uffington, 24, 29 Uffington Castle, 23 Uppåkra, 69 Upper Tisza, 136 V Valência, 241 VésztĘ-Bikeri, 103, 106, 115, 119, 139, 143, 144, 153, 156, 166, 172, 183

301

VésztĘ-Mágor, 103, 106, 138, 142, 153 Viking, 74 Viking Age, 4, 77, 78 village, 42, 74, 75, 117, 133, 137, 168, 205, 222, 244 Vinþa, 139 Volhynian flint, 139 Voxel, 21 W Wallerstein, 238 wattle-and-daub, 103, 137, 155, 168, 178 weeds, 175 well, 104, 113, 145, 147, 200, 203, 205 wetland places, 45 wetlands, 42, 45, 52, 82, 112 Wissler, 5 woodland clearance, 48, 51 woodland regeneration, 42 World System, 238 World Systems, 239 Y Ystad, 69 Z Zubrow, 7, 16